Bamboo, Nepal 8/31/07

Bamboo, Nepal 8/31/07
- Annapurna Base Camp Route -

When I pictured my trip to Nepal I envisioned chilly hikes along rocky hillsides in the shadows of snow covered mountains. Where I sit now though feels more like a jungle expedition than a trek along the rooftop of the world. This is not a complaint rather a pleasant surprise. Technically I knew I was arriving at the end of Nepal’s monsoon season but I still wasn’t expecting the lush vegetation, and thick, wet forest that I have found on most of the trail. For example, the little village I’m in takes its name from the dense forest of bamboo that surrounds it.

I arrived in Kathmandu on the afternoon of the 24th and left to start trekking at 6:30 a.m. on the 25th. It was a 7 hour bus ride to the town of Pokhara, a short taxi ride to the edge of town and then a rocky path up into the countryside; about 3 hours of climbing stone steps until I reached the first village, Dahmpus. Stop one on my 15 day trek to and from the Annapurna Base Camp.

I hired a guide in Kathmandu and while I probably didn’t need one I’m really glad I did. With a good map it’s pretty easy to figure out where you are going. The paths are easy to follow and you are usually just a few hours from a village that has a map & distances easily marked. It’s a simple system, and not developed in a modern touristy sense, but this place is definitely set up for English speaking trekkers.

The cost for a guide though was within my budget and after a month of figuring out every step on my own I thought a little vacation from having to think and calculate would be nice. All I would have to do is hike and enjoy the scenery. Someone else could figure out where we were going and where we were staying when we got there. So far this benefit has been nice but I am finding out I like having my guide for more reasons than that.

My guides name is Pasan Ngima Sherpa, but he just goes by Ngima (pronounced “Neema”) He hails from a small village called Phedi, which is in the Everest Region of Nepal, maybe 400 miles East of where we are now. He is 33 years old and has been guiding treks all over Nepal, India, and Tibet for over a decade.

While the Annapurna area, and from what I can tell many other areas in Nepal, is set up for trekkers, this is the end of the monsoon season; not the ideal time for hiking here. The busy season kicks in towards the end of September and goes to December. Until then the trails are pretty empty and the tea houses/guest houses in the hillside villages are slow. For the first 4 days Ngima was my only conversation.

It has been a pleasure getting to know him and I have learned a lot about Nepal through our conversations in broken English. Also, with Ngima’s help, I’ve spent many nights just hanging out with the local Nepalese. The season for tourists hasn’t kicked in yet so at night the Nepalese that run the tea houses aren’t very busy. They gather at one of the lodges to hang out, play cards, etc. So I sit at the table with them and try to look like I fit in and I’m following the conversation…even though it’s Nepalese. They are always nice and usually a few of them speak some English so eventually they ask me questions about America or places I have been. It’s a simple thing. Just sitting around really but I love it! It has provided me with some greet moments where my mind wonders how I got here. I’ll think, “I’m a 2 day hike to the nearest thing that you could call a road and I’m talking by candle light with two Nepalese guys about arranged marriages, Buddhist customs, and what New York looks like. This is AWESOME!"

I remember one night after talking about America with Ngima and the proprietor of the guesthouse we were staying, the owner said. “America…it’s so far away. You have come very far.”
I said, “No not really. At least it doesn’t feel like it. It was easy, I just booked a flight. Ngima, if you left right now how long would it take you to get to your village?”
His eyes rolled back in thought and then he said, “3 days.”
I said, “I bet I could get to my village in the United States in 3 days also.”
It was silent for about a minute while everyone did the route in their heads…granted my trip would require commercial air line assistance and Ngima’s would probably just count on local busses and his feet but in the end they nodded their heads in agreement.
“You see “far” is only in your mind.” I pointed out.

A couple nights ago I met up with my first Europeans of the Trek. They were a couple, my age, from Spain, named Jesus & Susanna. They were staying at the same guest house as me, which was also the only one that was open, at the Machhapuchhre Base Camp (MBC). It was great to meet them and we have been on the same route for the last 3 days so there’s been lots of fun conversations with them. Normally Jesus is teaching/learning swear words with the Nepalese. It’s like being on a playground again in 4th grade. I try to participate but both sides already know how to swear in English so I don’t have much to contribute.

I think the first night with them though set the stage for the rest. At the lodge, we again were the minority with about 10 Nepalese hanging out for dinner and cards. It was probably just 8 p.m. or so but it was very dark outside, and a chilly rain was falling, so inside felt very cozy and late. As the Nepalese were waiting for their Dal Baht to cook one of the guys busted out an acoustic guitar.

He started plucking through some tuning chords and everyone seemed to find a comfy spot in preparation for the entertainment. The lodge was a typical one for this area; a rectangular room, about 15’x 25’. The main focus and purpose of the room was the long table in the middle, about 8’ x 15’. It had blankets attached around the edge to cover up your legs, or to hold in the heat when they put heaters under it on colder days. Around the outer walls of the room were raised platforms, about 3’ wide by 7’ long but placed end to end so the thin mattresses that cover them make a nice soft lounging area all around the table. This is also where the guides and porters sleep in the busy season. There were pillows and blankets tossed about and I was perched at the far end of the lodge from the door and the guitarist; reclining on a pillow, legs covered up, just soaking it all into my mind and soul! I truly felt in the moment and knew this is the reason I travel; to feel just like I did on that night.

Soon the guitarist started playing some nice melodies I had never heard and then he started singing the Nepalese words that obviously went along with them. As in most sing-a-longs the guitarist possessed the only musical talent but that didn’t stop several of the other Nepalese from joining in with the words that they knew. It was great and everyone there loved it as was evident by the clapping after each song.

They had been playing Nepalese folk songs for about 20 minutes when the guitarist turned to Jesus & Susanna and asked “Where are you from? Maybe I know a song from your country.”
They said Spain and then we all racked our brains for a song from Spain that he might know. At first I thought this would be easy but I soon realized of all the Spanish songs I know NONE are actually from Spain.

(On a side note; the next day I did think of one and I asked Jesus, “Hey, what about The Macarena?”
He said, “Ugh! Yes, it is and don’t remind me. We are still embarrassed.”)
Now back to the story….

When we couldn’t think of a song, the guitarist suggested, “How about you just sing one and I’ll try to play along?”
There was a loud laugh from Susanna and a “No Way!” from Jesus.

Next he turned to me, “How about you?”
I said I was American and he smiled. “I know a lot of American music!”
I smiled and said “Me too.”
“Do you know any Eagles or Bob Dylan?”
I smiled even bigger and said “Yep, pretty much.”
Before I had my short confirmation out he was already plucking through the opening to Hotel California. When it was time to sing I knocked the obligatory taps on the wooden leg of my platform and started into verse one. When I got to the chorus I replaced “Welcome to the Hotel California” with “Welcome to the Machhapuchhre Base Camp”. The few Nepalese that understood the switch loved it and translated the joke to the rest. They all laughed and cheered. My first turn at sing-a-long night was a hit.

They went back to the Nepalese folk songs after that and I just sat back and tried to remember key words from some of the songs so I could find recordings of the ones I liked when I get back to Kathmandu. They played traditional songs that the other Nepalese sang along to with a look of reverence and then others that caused them all to laugh out loud. Ngima explained that the funny ones were new re-mixes of songs currently playing on the radio. Hip Hop played over an acoustic guitar…always fun no matter the language.

Towards the end of the session the guitarist turned my way and without saying a word started playing the un-mistakable intro to “Redemption Song”. I guess he figured it was as given that I would know it because when it was time to sing he paused for just a second and looked up at me. I stumpled through the verses and he joined me on the chorus. It fit very well with the atmosphere, despite my poor singing ability, and I noticed even the Nepalese that didn’t speak English smiling and nodding. That’s the power of Bob Marley I suppose….even when sung badly.

After MBC it was a short hike, less than 2 hours, the next day to the Annapurna Base Camp (ABC). At 4,130 meters above sea level this would be my highest point of the trek and theoretically my best mountain views. The base camp sits in a horseshoe shaped valley with most of the Annapurna peaks surrounding it.

Annapurna South 7,219m
Vara Hashikhar 7,847m
Annapurna I 8,091m
Tharpu Chuli 5,663m
Annapurna III 7,855m
Machhapuchhare 6,993m

The monsoon season here doesn’t mean just rain though; it means clouds and gray skies. This can be great for hiking on most days because it keeps the already humid conditions from being even more intense with the sun beating down on you. Those clouds are bad though when it comes to viewing mountains.

Maybe it’s my usual positive attitude but I really don’t mind the clouds. I think they just add to the beauty. Occasionally they will part or spread out and reveal a huge peak; bright white snow and jagged gray rocks. With the passing clouds just revealing them for a few minutes it makes them feel like a secret to me; unveiled just for the patient observer. The morning after arriving at ABC was just like this and I got some great views from about 6 a.m. to 7 a.m. but then the clouds moved in and the drizzling rain started up again.

One area that was visible at ABC on the morning that I arrived was the vast rocky path left behind by one of the reseeding glaciers. It blew me away! I came up over the ridge past the small cluster of guest houses and was not expecting to find the huge valley void of all vegetation running for miles up and down from the mountains. I just sat stunned on a rock overlooking the huge path. Ngima soon joined me and pointed out where the glacier used to be when he first started coming there in the early 90’s. The ice was now nowhere in sight of this point. As the peaks have become more visible now and then it’s very easy to see where the ice and glaciers have made their rapid retreats.

ABC was also a great place for meeting more people and making more friends. It is kind of a destination for most treks in this area and there are very few guest houses there so I found it to be the busiest spot of the trek thus far. Of course there was still just 7 other trekkers there with me including Jesus & Susanna but that’s about 7 more than I’m used to seeing.

I met Allen & Rowina from Scotland, who are wrapping up a 10 month world tour, and Paul and Mike from England. Paul and Mike were there acclimating to the altitude before heading to Tibet for some mountaineering. I chatted with them about my eventual mountaineering goals and they recommend some books to read.

Eventually Allen and Rowina busted out a deck of cards and the 5 of us played some Gin Rummy. It was a new game for me but with the group’s help I picked it up quick. We basically spent the afternoon and evening this way; learning and playing various card games. It rained all day so it was a nice way to pass the time.

The last noteworthy thing about my experience at ABC happened on the morning that we all left. I had risen early to view the peaks at sunrise and the clouds cooperated just a little bit. The day before I had asked Ngima about the small stone towers and monuments that dotted the grounds west of the guest house about 50 yards away. Normally I would call these collection of rocks cairns and you see them marking trails around the world but the way they dotted this area I knew there had to be another purpose for them.

He explained that they were a kind of “Stupa”. Ngima explained to me that it was a Buddhist custom to build these little houses. He said a stupa has several purposes and they come in many different shapes and sizes but one of the beliefs is that when you die your spirit can return to the stupa’s that you have built to visit. The wealthy build very elaborate ones near their homes but the poor people just build them out of stones.

Like many other Buddhist customs I really liked this idea. Even if my spirit doesn’t really visit them when I die it seemed like a nice way to take note of the special places that you visit in a lifetime. A way to look back and think of the places you have built your stupas.

The morning we left I built my first stupa on one of the boulders looking at Annupurna South. I told Ngima that maybe when my spirit comes back it won’t be as cloudy.
Ngima also took the time to build one, something he had not done before on all his other visits. When it was completed he said, “There, we neighbors.” It was a nice moment.

The full moon was 3 days ago. It is a religious holiday here and it’s supposed to mark the end of the monsoon season but this method looks about as effective as using a groundhog to predict the end of winter because it has rained the most in the 3 days following the full moon. When I told Ngima I thought his people were way off on there full moon prediction he smiled and said, “I think it was the Hindus.” Ngima is a quiet guy but quick witted. He cracks me up.
This gives you a nice look at the amount of snowfall they get here in the Winter. That's me in the middle.

Again, like the clouds, I don’t really mind the rain either. It’s not a downpour; just an occasional sprinkle. The humidity is so high, when you are hiking you are usually soaked by sweat anyway. A little drizzle of rain doesn’t matter.

I have actually found watching the clouds very entertaining. It’s different when you are at their level. When you are walking along a ridge and the fog is so think it feels like you are on the edge of the world. On other occasions I would watch clouds flowing up the valley towards me. They would be so thick and moving so fast I’d swear it was smoke from a huge fire raging down below. Your brain keeps checking with the nose for confirmation of the smell of smoke but it never comes. Soon you won’t be able to see 10 feet in front of you. Then 10 minutes later it will be clear. It’s amazing.

I guess when you are entertained by passing clouds and fog it’s pretty evident how quiet and slow this trip is. The hiking is rigorous in many parts but still very relaxing. Ngima and I only talk occasionally while hiking so there are hours that go by in silence. “Hours spent in thoughtful silence help us make the right decisions more than days and days of talking.” I learned this in Scouts and its truer now than ever.

Of course it’s not really silent ever. There are always birds chirping when walking through a forest section or the hum of insects. As we approach villages there are usually cows, chickens, or even school kids, making some noise, occasionally a dog barking. Oh, and water; always the sound of water on every step of the hike.

Our route thus far has kept us near the white waters of the Modi Khola (river) so depending on how high or low we are determines how loud it is but even if it’s far below there is always the sound of one of the many waterfalls. They come pouring out of the forest down the sides of the hills. Some are from valleys that lead up to a glacier or mountain peak; others are just run off that flows down the steep hillsides. Some fall hundreds of feet in a steady stream with a violent crash at the bottom or on cliffs on the way down. Others just cling to the rock face and the water shimmers so that it doesn’t look like it’s flowing at all. It turns the side of the hill into a shattered pane of glass. I don’t know what it is that makes a waterfall so photogenic but I find it hard to pass one by without taking a picture. I doubt it’s possible to find an ugly waterfall anywhere in the world.

The silent hikes have left me hours to think. You daydream some but you have to watch almost every step so your mind never wanders far from the moment. The trail is rarely flat. You are usually either hiking up or down and one wrong step could ruin your whole trek.

I have found many metaphors for life in hiking on this trip. Nothing ground breaking and probably just more confirmation for how I already think but it helps to pass the time…especially when climbing up for over an hour, step after step. For example:

- On a hike, as in life, most of the time is spent looking down, picking each step carefully but once in awhile you need to stop and look up at your goal…but if you stare to long at the goal you’ll never reach it, or worse you’ll stumble and possibly never reach it. It’s watching each step, and taking each step, that eventually gets you there. (It always seems to come back to balance with me.)
- The view is always better when you are breathing heavy.
- I’d rather hike uphill than downhill. (This one probably says more about my aging left knee than my personality but, without a doubt, I would rather have my leg muscles burning and sweat pouring off my face as I crawl up then look down and try to find stable footing every step and brace myself on a wobbly knee. Then again it probably does reflect my personality pretty well.

I still have another week before I get back to Kathmandu and check back in with the world. On this trek phones, e-mails, etc. aren’t an option. Hell, not all the places we stop even have mail service or electricity.

While I do miss Jillian and general e-mail conversations with friends and family I’m not in a hurry to get back. It’s an odd feeling and somewhat contradictory but its how I feel. I am finding on this trek it’s one of the rare times in my life where I don’t feel like I’m missing something else.

MJF

Delhi, India 8/22/07

Delhi, India 8/22/07

Just two days left and my tour of India will be over. I’ve holed up in a 5 Star hotel in the suburbs of Delhi for these last couple days to relax and recover. India has been a tough 3 weeks; an intense 3 weeks. I’ve seen a lot and still have not even begun to see it all.

I picked this hotel out on the internet because it was one of the few options that had a gym and I’ve found that getting some exercise at least a few times a week is not just healthy it’s vital to my happiness. In other countries, when finding a gym wasn’t possible or I just didn’t want to spend the money on one, I’ve solved this exercise need by going for runs, hikes, walks in the parks, renting bikes, etc. usually killing two birds with one stone; sightseeing and exercising. In India I found these options to be harder to pull off but I digress. I was talking about this hotel.

I booked it for the gym and then through some confusion on the map didn’t realize that it was basically a resort outside of town all by itself. The ironic part is now that I’m here I’m in no shape to use the gym! Well not yet at least. I’m hopeful that before I check out I’ll feel up to working out.

Four days ago as I was leaving the town of Panjim for the second time, I started to feel really run down. It’s a feeling I’ve experienced a few times in this crazy year of traveling. I knew a little bug had gotten in the system despite all my wellness efforts. It was time to find a place to lay around awhile and let the body fight off the illness.

Unfortunately that place to lie around was 2 days travel away in Agra and I had 18 hours to kill in the Paharganj area of Delhi before I got there. Delhi’s a huge town and again I didn’t come close to seeing most of it but I do know that the Main Bazaar road in Paharganj is one of the worst places you want to be with an upset stomach. It made Koh San Road in Bangkok look like …well Singapore to reference a recent spot.

I ended up in Paharganj because I had already made plans to meet up with a friend there, Marieke, one of my friends from Hampi that I’ll talk about soon. So, always the optimist, even though I didn’t feel well when I left Panjim for Delhi I continued with the plan. As I spent the next day puking in the bathroom on the top floor of a $5 flop house in Delhi I wondered when I would ever learn to listen to my body.

Well I must be getting better at it because now I’m in a cushy, western, non-traveler, hotel room and while part of me hates being here and I’m bored out of my mind, there is a deeper part of me that knows my body and mind needed a rest. I’m also justifying this to myself as a means of preparation rather than just wussing out. I start an 18 day trek in Nepal in just 3 days. I need to be healthy. Let’s hope the diarrhea is gone by then!!

OK, India, where do I begin? How do I begin to sum up a place like this? The cliché “love & hate” jumps to mind but I think both are to extreme to sum up my feelings. I think my thoughts are more like “amazed and confused”. You could probably throw in saddened too.

I guess I should start with the places I visited. After my last entry I wrapped up my time at Baga Beach in Goa with my first new friends of the trip. I met Adam and Kirke at the Auyervedic Spa that I visited. They are both Americans but have been living abroad in various countries for over a decade now. Currently they are teachers at an International school in Qatar.

We enjoyed a few laughs and stories during my morning at the spa. Adams warning that they use a lot of oil for the massage, “I’m talking A LOT!” rang through my head during my entire slippery rub down. Before we all left the spa that day they asked me if I wanted to get together for drinks that night. I enthusiastically said yes. They met me at a beach shack bar near my place that I had visited before and we had a great evening telling stories and sharing opinions over cold Kingfisher beers and a shisha; more International backpacker friends to hopefully cross paths with again.

I added even more backpacker friends to the list at my next destination, Hampi. It was an all day train ride from Vasca de Gama to Hospet (the nearest train station to Hampi) and 20 minutes into it I met Axel & Jenny from Germany. The three of us ended up crashing at the same guest house in Hampi and at dinner that night they introduced me to some others they had met on the journey; Isabella & Fillippo from Italy, and Karine, Fabrer, & Clovis from France.

This became my gang for a few days and I really enjoyed the company. I still did some sightseeing on my own but we all met up for most meals over the 3 days that I was there. Good times!

Hampi was an amazing spot. It’s a different climate from the hot humid tropical coast of Goa. Hampi was more like the desert. The scenery reminded me a lot of Boulder Utah and my time hiking there last June.

Hampi is a small town but what put it on the map for most of us backpackers are the many ruins, temples, and sculptures that surround the area. I’m far from an archeologist, and the depth of my knowledge with places like this usually stops at “Wow, that’s cool!”

So for lack of a better educated description the area is home to ancient Hindu temples, bazaars, and shrines mostly around 500+ years old. The ruins are sprawled out over many miles much like the Angkor ruins in Cambodia. I think I found those ruins more impressive though….Hampi was still amazing to see of course and I did say “Wow, that’s cool!” a few dozen times.


Above: Sunset

Below: Sunrise



After Hampi I spent about 2 days traveling north that included an overnight bus next to a big, sweaty, snoring guy, a crowded flight to Delhi, and an even more crowded train to Agra. (I don’t know how I got sick?!) It was long slow travel made even harder by an upset stomach for half the trip. When I made it to Agra I checked into a nice hotel ($75 a night) cranked on the AC, and went to sleep for about 16 hours.

I had planned to visit the famed Taj Mahal, which was just a mere 3 km from where I slept, as soon as I woke up...whenever that might be. When I did wake up around Noon the next day I felt better than I did when I arrived so, again always the optimist, I figured a good nights sleep was all that I had needed. It was time to stock up on some cash though so before heading to the Taj I set out in search of an ATM. The front desk at my hotel said there was one about a10 minute walk away and they gave me directions. Directions that included “…it’s the first right past the elephants.” I loved it!

I found the ATM without any problem but by the end of my 10 minute walk there I was exhausted and in need of my $75 bathroom. I hopped in a bike taxi back to the hotel and was back in bed in less than 5 minutes. That was the extent of my first full day in Agra. I figured the Taj has been standing there since 1648. It would be there the next day.

In hindsight I’m glad I waited. After my full day of sleeping and watching my only English speaking TV channel option (which by the way was a Christian programmed station out of South Bend, Indiana…in between their Christian “news” programs they showed old episodes of Bonanza, The Beverly Hillbillies, and The Cisco Kid. I saw Ricardo Montalban play a Native American on Bonanza….I laughed every time he spoke. I guess any accent would do.) I was feeling a little better and decided I would tackle the Taj at sunrise . So at 5:30 a.m. I made my way to the most famous monument ever built for the love a single woman.

It was a beautiful morning and as the powerful Sun rose higher with every minute the Taj seemed to glow whiter and whiter. It is an amazing, beautiful, structure that lives up to all the hype. The sunrise viewing was nice and by 8 a.m. as I saw a steady stream of tourists flowing in and swarming it I realized how nice some of my people free photographs of the monument were going to be.

After Agra I pretty much just made my way to where I now sit in Delhi. I feel better with each day but I’m still a little worried I won’t be 100% when I reach Nepal. OK, I’m a lot worried. I went to a chemist and got some medicine a couple days ago and spoke with a doctor here at my fancy hotel. I guess there's another positive for staying here. He said I needed to keep taking the pills. My symptons usually go away around day 6 or so. Delhi has more sights to see but I’ll play it by ear depending on how I feel. Plus frankly I have visited enough temples, shrines, markets, and bazaars in this country. I’m ready for something new.

Well that pretty much sums up the geographic parts of India that I have wandered, now for the not so tangible experiences.

Before coming to India I did my standard research which is to say I skimmed through a Lonely Planet, got some general tips from friends that have traveled it before, and reached out to my “network” for contacts that are actually from India. Basically I got just enough info to have a rough idea of where I wanted to go, by region at least, but not too much set in stone other than the flight out. It’s touring, not wandering, if you already know where you are going before you get there.

Of all my pre-trip planning, the words of my trekking buddy Kristen proved to be the most accurate. She said the Indians were extremely nice, helpful, and curious and I should try to meet as many as possible. She was spot on!

As for the Indian's curiosity, once you get past the weird feeling of people staring at you everywhere you go it becomes easier to embrace it but it can be a bit tough at first. Most of the people staring at you are just curious because you are different than what they normally see, but just like any individual, some are just shy. Staring is all they will do. Eventually some will talk to you and usually they start with these questions:
1) Where are you from?
2) “What is your good name”?
3) What do you think of India?

I must have answered these questions a thousand times on this trip. Most of the time I tried to be as happy and eager to talk to them as they were to me but I’ll admit sometimes I just wasn’t in the mood. Sometimes you just want to get to where you are going and not say a word, especially when you are not feeling well. This must be what a celebrity feels like…only I wasn’t cashing checks based on my fame so I won’t feel to guilty for being occasionally cold to “the public”.

Generally the Indians are extremely helpful. I can think of a dozen instances off the top of my head where one of them stopped to offer me assistance or directions. Sure half the time I didn’t need it. Can’t a guy just stand on a corner looking around without the rest of the world thinking he’s lost? Of course the other half of the time I did need help so it was nice that I didn’t have to look far. This would include every train ride. If it wasn’t for some nice person helping me out I never would have gotten off at the right stop.

There are a few specific instances that jump to mind though that I want to make sure I remember. The first was night one out in Baga. I had a few days in one spot, no reason to get up in the morning, it was Saturday night; time to enjoy myself! I was kicking back in a reclining chair on the beach at Xavier’s enjoying the people watching and a cold beer. Xaviers is more of a lounge on the beach than a crowded bar and a person sitting alone there stands out, especially a Caucasian, so it didn’t take long before I was invited to join a table of Indians doing the same thing that I was, just chilling out watching the waves crash on the beach. When that group moved on, instantly another group approached me and invited me to sit with them.

I had a great time throwing back drinks with random friends for the night and took note again that everyone acted very similar to how a group of my friends would be acting if we were out in the States. I find fewer and fewer things that separate us all. My favorite moment of the evening happened close to Midnight. There were just 3 of us sitting there and one of my new friends, who was a few drinks past everyone else, turned to his other friend and started whispering. His friend rolled his eyes at me and said to his friend “Why are you whispering to me in Hindu?!” He doesn’t speak it! A good laugh followed from all 3 of us and the big secret to have another round was openly discussed. It nice to know that drunken “close talking” is a cross cultural phenomenon.

Probably my longest cultural interaction occurred on the train ride to Hampi. I had moved to an open window seat earlier in the trip. A second class sleeper car mostly filled with backpackers that took advantage of the open space and bench style seats. I enjoyed several hours laying down parallel to an open window watching the scenery roll by as my iPod shuffled through it’s memory of songs. This is one of my most favorite things to do of course. God I love traveling by train!

A few hours outside of my stop at Hospet the train picked up a lot more passengers and soon the seats around me, normally designed to hold 7 passengers, were filled in with about 10 Indians. They were all in there mid-40’s, probably considered lower middle class, and they all knew each other.

I sat up to make more room for them despite their gestures to stay as I was. Some started playing cards but soon, just like in the Gambler, boredom overtook us and we began to speak. I noticed one of them staring at my iPod and when I popped out my ear buds he pointed at it and said “radio?”
I said, “Sort of. Digital music.” To which I saw a confused face look back at me confirming my instant thought that this guy probably wasn’t going to understand “digital music”. Thus began my iPod tutorial with 10 Indians who had never seen one before.

The Beatles were the first band in alphabetical order that I thought they stood a chance of recognizing so I hit play on their catalogue and passed it around. I got some head nodes and smiles but then froze their stares as I put on the video for U2’s “Where The Streets Have No Name” I felt like John Dunbar with a coffee grinder. (A Dances With Wolves reference…) I think the biggest iPod hit though was when I put on my photo slideshow. They liked identifying some of the International landmarks that I have visited and studied the pictures with snow closely but the pic of Jillian wearing a bikini in the BVI’s got the most smiles and head nods. “Wife?” one of them asked.
“No. Girlfriend.” I said.
“Better!” he replied and laughed.

The children of India were the source of many of my most sad images but there were also a few moments of fun with them. Like when I’d catch a kid staring at me while I was at the checkout stand of a store. I’d slip them a chocolate even though they had not asked for anything. My favorite encounter happened at the Goa airport. I came around the corner of my gate area to find 5 kids about 8 years old flinging yo yo’s. Ahhh, they read my mind. That’s my most favorite thing to do while waiting for a flight.

I pulled out my trusty Yomega Raider and Walked The Dog into the group. I was an instant hit and after showing off a little began some individual lessons. The parents sitting nearby loved it and reminded the kids to pay attention and learn as the P’s snapped some photos. One of the Dad’s came up to me and we talked for a little bit.
He pointed at one of the boys and said “This one here I could barely get to put that thing down before, now he’ll never stop. His Mother’s going to kill him.”
I laughed and said “There’s a Mother in America that sympathizes with her.”



By far though the most intense day I had when it came to interacting with the locals was August 15 in Hampi. The date’s significant because it is India’s Independence Day and 2007 marked their 60th Birthday. Hampi is a small place and there only significant celebration of the holiday was a small parade of school kids and a couple ceremonial flag raisings in the morning. What made the date impact me were the thousands of Indian tourists that trekked to Hampi for the day.


Hampi is considered a holy place but these were not religious pilgrims. Just hard working Indians on a day of sightseeing, and what could make some 500 year old Hindu shrines even better? Well meeting some Westerners along the way of course!

I had woken early that day, along with a few of my European friends, to watch the sunrise over the horizon of boulders. After breakfast I took the rest of the morning off for a little nap and work time. So when I ventured out alone to see some temples at around 3 p.m. the peaceful quiet streets I had seen at sunrise were now like Disney World in the desert.

I kept moving through the crowds on my way to my specific destinations while a barrage of “Hi! Where are you from?” flew at me and I politely dodged hand shakes. I smiled of course but it was really weird and it took at least an hour before I let the guard down and embraced it. These were not taxi drivers outside a train station. They weren’t trying to direct me anywhere or sell me anything. They just wanted to meet me, and not really even me, any foreigner would do.

Soon I embraced it. Call it my one man American PR campaign. I put on the stage persona a little and started to crack jokes when I could and asking my own questions in return to theirs. Each time I would stop to talk to a few people a crowd would swarm around me. If I sat in one spot, the crowd would form around where I sat. After a few minutes of chatting, the crowd would move on and another group would see me sitting alone and run over.

In addition to the standard questions the other standard request was a photograph. They all wanted to take a picture with me. Here is where I really cheesed it up! I’d throw my arm around them, flash up a peace sign, make everyone scream...basically anything to keep me from getting bored…and they always loved it. I stared counting at one point and posed for 50 photos in about 3 hours. After that I stopped counting.

I took a few pics of my own but quickly realized this was a bad idea. Digital cameras are not real wide spread here but they the all know what they do. So after you take the pic, they all want to see it. 30 hands all grabbing at your camera is never a good feeling. Plus the kids come running like it’s a game at the fair. They all want to have their pictures taken and then viewed back to them. It’s cute at first…at first.

When I met back up with my European gang that night for dinner they confirmed that they had the same kind of afternoon that I did. As I said earlier, Hampi is a holy place which in Hindu means no meat and no alcohol. Axel & Jenny had rented a scooter that day and discovered a place about 4 km away that was apparently just outside the holy rules of Hampi. They quickly sold us all on their plan for dinner and drinks and after some haggling with the scooter man on rental prices the eight of us zipped through the night like Hells Angels on Vespas.

We found the place with no problem and there was already a table of English, Irish, and Ausies doing exactly what we had in mind. Soon some Dutch and French arrived too. Everyone had the same tired look on their faces and everyone immediately ordered a cold beer. I like hitting the places where the local’s are as much as possible but that night was perfect and a lot of fun. Plus it wasn’t like I was at the Hard Rock Hampi. It was a local place….just full of Westerners.

They were celebrating a birthday at the UK table and so all the tables sang Happy Birthday to him. After the song the Birthday Boy raised his glass for a toast and said “Here’s to never having to tell anyone my good name ever again!” There was much rejoicing.
The people of India will always stick out to me as my most favorite part of my experience here. Unfortunately what I will always remember just as vividly about the country is the pollution and general filth of everywhere I saw. I speculate it must be a direct result of the huge population because I’ve seen many poor countries and places; none of them come close to India.

Cars, buildings, factories, trucks, and busses all spew out visible black smoke, and not just in the large cities. One of the most telling views came from my window on the train. We were passing a pretty green and brown field being plowed by 2 white oxen in the shadow of an oil refinery with 3 tall smoke stakes. Two were billowing out gray clouds and the other a ball of flames.

In addition to the toxic emissions there is trash and debris everywhere. People just don’t care and throw things anywhere. Even in Hampi, “a sacred, holy place” I ran into some guys drinking some beers behind one of the temples. (Hey it was Independence Day!) I stopped and talked to them for a couple minutes and when one of them was done with his beer he just threw the bottle against a wall, a wall about 500 years old mind you. Nobody reacted at all.
After the trash the next level of filth is the feces and urine, and no, not just from the animals. The animal part I could get used to and understand. There are cows everywhere, even in the cities, but also pigs, goats, chickens, and the occasional camel or elephant. While waiting in Hospet for my overnight bus I took note of a small donkey that came wandering through the bus terminal. It was like a stray dog in a city, only a donkey! It’s head down stopping at various piles of trash to root his nose around.

I’ve been trying to think of a polite way to write this next part but I can’t think of one so I guess I’ll just be blunt. The number of people I saw either urinating or defecating blew me away. It’s outrageous really, especially at the train stations. You are standing on a platform waiting on a train and people just jump down onto the tracks and take a squat. I saw people on curbs of the roads, on the edge of a bridge, along the river banks, everywhere! I pick on this part because it adds to the filth and I don’t think there is a reason for it. I just don’t understand how they as a society can get used to it.

You also see beggars that are sick, deformed, and diseased, usually only in the bigger cities, but I won’t complain about this. Don’t get me wrong, it’s very sad but it didn’t disgust me. There were a lot of sad things here but I felt compassion for the country as they try to grow and deal with the problems. However, I believe the answer to most problems has to start with the individual and for Indian’s that would be not littering and finding the proper place to relieve yourself.

The natural landscapes I took in while wandering here were beautiful; rolling hills, green jungles, rice fields, boulders and desert, long beaches with crashing waves….it’s only where man has staked his claim that it becomes abhorrent. I suppose civilization as a whole is a filthy thing. We just find better ways of hiding it.

India seems to be trying to deal with the trash problem in some places. Like at the Taj Mahal gas powered vehicles are not allowed within 2 km because the emissions were turning the white marble brown. If the air does that to hard rock, can you imagine what it’s doing to our soft lungs? They have declared other parks in the country plastic free. There are signs posted that state it’s illegal to posses any plastic; bottles, containers, etc. in that area. Not just litter, but even posses these items.

A line Thoreau wrote in Walden has run through my head a few times recently. “I would rather sit in the open air, for no dust gathers on the grass, unless where man has broken ground.” Boy how true is that. Thank God Henry did not live long enough to see the spread of plastic bottles.

I think that about covers my thoughts on this section of the trip. I worry that when I post this blog, or even just tell people about my experiences here, I will come across as elitist or snooty; a neat freak looking for sterile adventures. Of course I could line up old roommates that would attest that this is not the case. I am not that kind of person and that is not my feeling here. These are just my observations.

While I won’t list India in my most favorite places of the world I am glad that I came here and I would definitely come back. There is still so much I need to see. I am a firm believer that the journey is the reward….and my short 3 weeks here has definitely been a journey!
MJF

“It does not require money to be neat, clean, and dignified.”
Mahatma Gandhi

Goa, India 8/13/07

Saligao (Goa), India 8/13/07

This will be a short entry. I only have a few pages left in this book but also because I'm just killing time before my massage therapist is available. I'm spending this morning at the Ayurvedic Natural Health Centre, just outside of Calangute, and I am about half way though my planned activities.

I started here at 7:30 this morning with a yoga class. A small class of about 5 people. Most of them appeared to be about the same level of experience as me which is just better than novice. The instructor was good but far from an old, mystic, yoga guru, wearing a white sheet and sitting like a pretzel in a cave on some mountain. I need to work up to that level. This was still yoga in India though, it's birthplace, so I feel like I've crossed something off my "1,000 Things To Do Before You Die" list.

After my yoga class there was a herbal breakfast which turned out to be a lot of fruits, rice dishes, chick peas, etc. I enjoyed it but my Dad and Brother would still be confused on how it could be called breakfast. There wasn't even coffee.

Following breakfast I had my Body Constitution Evaluation where I sat with an Ayurvedic Doctor and she determined what my body type was. The evaluation begins with a simple description of what the word Ayurvedic even means which is "Life Knowledge". It was a very interesting explanation. It seemed to me that what Wellness practices are to Western medicines, Ayurvedic is to homeopathic medicine. Essentially; know what determines good health, and the best ways to stay healthy, so you can prevent major illnesses and injuries.

Of course that is just my rough opinion of it based on one 90 minute consultation. Many of the things she explained seemed very logical and therefor true in my mind. Other aspects seemed a little general, unfounded, and more of a correlation rather than an actual direct cause for something. While I saw the logic in most of it I'm sticking to my balance philosophy. Too much of any one thing is bad for you....whether it's red meat or yogurt.

Ayurvedi medicine defines three body constitutions; Vata, Pitta, and Kapha. The Doc determined that I was Pitta dominant with some minor Kapha. Based on the description that she gave me of all three I would say she was 90% accurate. She then went through some eating habits and other exercises that are good for a person like me.

They were generally all things I was already doing except for cutting back on spicy foods. She said I'm already a "fire person" so I shouldn't eat things that could overheat me. A few times a week was OK but not everyday. I let out an audible "Doh!" that I think she understood without probably ever seeing an episode of the Simpson's.

Also during my consultation I explained my hatred for tomatoes and my indifference to red meat. She smiled. "You probably don't like red wine much either do you?" she asked.
"I don't. How did you know that?!"
"Because Pitta people should not eat a lot of red things."


Wow! That explains a lot! If only my Mother would have had me tested as a child! We could have avoided so many dinner table fights. Then again I don't think there were many Ayurvedic Doctors in Philo, Illinois so I suppose it wasn't a case of parental neglect.

Up next is my Kitzi massage, a procedure they described as best for joint or back pains. Even though my joints feel pretty good it seemed like the best massage option for me based on what they offered. The other descriptions highlighted the use of oil and that just doesn't sound real appealing to me.

My back is still a little tender at times though. A new affliction from sleeping in Jillian's extra soft bed while back in the States in June. A problem I fear will be worse when I return in October. I've gotten quite used to sleeping on hard surfaces; cheap dorm beds, Asian futons, floor mats, airport benches, overnight trains and buses, even the ground now and then. A return to a normal mattress will take time to get used to.

I have been in this area of Goa for about 5 days and in general like it much more than Mumbai. It is still a very poor area but it's out of the big city so not everything is in your face as much. I passed through the town of Pananji for a few nights on the way here and really liked that spot also.

Pananji is a small city with lots of character. I rented a bike for one of the days there and covered most of the town including a ride to the nearby beach of Mirmar about 3km away. I stayed in Pananji for a few nights and was finally able to get the running shoes out and use them for the purpose that I brought them, actual running. It was insanely hot but it still felt great. I love running in a new spot and the route I took along the Mandovi River was one of the cleanest spots I have found in India so far.

Beach Front Housing

Now I am staying in the beach area of Baga but with the scooter I rented for a couple days I have hit many of the other areas like Calangute, Fort Aguada, and Candulim. This whole area reminds me of L.A.; a string of beach towns running along the coast. Of course the actual landscape and amenities are totally different than L.A. so it's a very rough similarity and probably only exists in my mind.

Filling up my scooter...with 1 liter of gas.

Good thing I pulled up next to the pump!

I'll save my insights, thoughts, and opinions as well as new travel stories for another entry. Right now I'll just say I'm having a great time and I have finally settled back into my travelling groove. It usually only takes me a day or two but for some reason it took almost a week this time. It's hard to describe what I mean. It's just a feeling. I'm not sure how it clicks into gear. It probably helps that I've been able to get in some exercise. I don't know how it happens but I know what if feels like when it has. It's a moment when I stop feeling internally overwhelmed by everything new around me and I just feel comfortable. I let the guard down some, not enough that I could find myself in trouble but enough so that I don't feel like everyone is trying to rip me off or danger is lurking around the corner.

I'm not sure why I always feel like this when I first start out, especially the financial fear. I know there are as just as many rip offs, or more, in the States. There price is not even negotiable. Here when a guy gives you a price he's just trying to make a living. If the price he gives is double what he actually would have accepted, and you agree to it, well then that's just good business. It's not done with malice. Just like when Tommy Bahama charges me $100 for a shirt they probably bought for $1 or I pay $10 for a concert beer that actually cost them about 50 cents. They are not evil for overcharging. It's just business. I'm the stupid one for paying it in any case foreign or domestic.

Anyway, my babbling point is I'm feeling good; happy, excited, curious, anxious. All that and I haven't even had my massage yet!

MJF

Mumbai, India 8/8/07

Mumbai, India 8/8/07
-Chowbatty Beach-

It's about 9 p.m. and I've come to the place that the Lonely Planet says is the "favorite evening spot for courting couples, families, political rallies, and anyone out to enjoy what passes for fresh air." I fall into the last category.

This is the end of my third full day here, home of the Brits Gateway To India, and a fitting start to my wandering in this country. I have been cautious not to be to quick to form an opinion of this place, city or country. After all it's a big place and I've barely scratched the surface in 3 days. India's population is 1 billion plus, which is more than 3 times the United States and about 1/6 of the entire world population. The City of Mumbai (formerly Bombay) alone is home to around 15 million which is around twice as much as New York City. I know I won't even scratch the surface of this country in my 3 weeks here and I hate generalizations in all cases so I'll try to just state my observations.


Of course usually when you withhold an opinion it's because you are giving it a chance to improve rather than decline and that would be the case here. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad I'm here. It truly is an experience that I will never forget and I'll emerge a better person for doing it. I feel like this is true traveling, not touring, which is what I preach, and keep reminding myself lately as I try to find breathable air.

In an effort to change this somber tone I will definitely say it's not Mumbai's fault...it's mine. By nature I like order. I'm methodical and organized. Mumbai in contrast is organized chaos; swarm theory in practice. Everyone going to, coming from, selling, or buying, as individuals that all seem to flow together. Note I didn't say "cleaning" in that sentence. Few people are actually doing that it seems.

In my 3 days here I have covered some ground by foot, car, and rail and I have yet to see an area that I would not describe as squalor. I have always heard that India was a land of extreme wealth and poverty but so far I've only seen the poverty. Inside the restaurants, hotels, cafes, etc. you are surrounded by what you would describe as middle class citizens but when you step outside the door...it's back into squalor. I think it's the opposite of the States. There the poor are mostly found in the poor parts of town. Here, it seems the poor are the majority. You operate in there world, not the other way around.

I could fill this book with details of sad images I have already seen, and again I know I have only scratched the surface. Things that we Americans just would not stand for if we saw it on our own streets. For example you don't step over a 2 year old sleeping on a sidewalk in a major city and just keep walking. Here I've stepped over entire young families. It makes me sad and we shouldn't stand for it on any street in the world. I'll get back to my changing the world rhetoric another time though.

My jet lag has been interesting. I thought I was on a good schedule leaving Singapore but then flight delays into Mumbai cost me a nights sleep and now I'm playing catch up again. As a result I've been up before the dawn each day, which I don't really mind. The chaos doesn't seem to start until around 6:30 a.m.

One morning as the sky was turning from black to gray, signaling another sunrise on a rainy, overcast day in the monsoon season here, I ventured down to Sasoon Dock to watch the fishermen unload. It was probably around 5:30 a.m. and nothing was open on my 15 minute trek to the dock. The people that would eventually be trying to sell me something, the cabies that would eventually be honking like crazy, and even the poor families and kids that would soon be begging for my money and food were all still asleep. I literally passed them all where they lay on the sidewalks, doorways, stalls, and cabs they call their homes.

The humidity level had not risen to 96% yet and there was a nice breeze. I chuckled to myself when I thought "What a beautiful morning." and then took a visual note of the actual decrepit conditions that surrounded me.

When I reached the dock I was instantly amazed. It felt like I had stepped into the pages of one of my Dad's National Geographics only there was now more sensory input, most notably, smell; a mixture of raw seafood, salt air, and diesel. The marina was packed with worn out, but still colorful, old fishing boats. I guess you would call the area a marina but there weren't any boat slips. All the boats were just tied to each other. They looked like they had been collected by the current as they, again chaotically, bumped together and more boats pushed their way through the narrow channel into the enclosure.

On the dock was a flurry of activity; men and women yelling things and sorting things, guys pushing huge carts with various heavy items like ice or barrels of fuel. The women had large baskets. How they carried them varied, some in their arms for just a short walk to an awaiting truck, others with them balanced on their heads preparing for a longer walk.

I was the only tourist there and while I got a hundred looks it was just curiosity. Nobody said a word to me expect for a couple passing smiles and a "Hello boss!" Nobody tried to sell me anything and even the guards stationed under the "no trespassing" sign and "no photography" sign didn't feel like they needed to tell me anything.

After moving past the actual dock where the boats unload I found myself on the backside of the marina where the boats and crew wrapped things up. A few guys were cleaning decks on the boats but most were cleaning themselves. I tried not to take note of what culturally for me is private but you couldn't help see it all. I thought one guy was getting ready to roll back into the water off the edge of a boat until I unfortunately realized he was just using the perch for his morning constitutional.

Aside from shocks like this, my trip to the dock that morning was an amazing experience. A true traveller moment where I felt like I was really at a particular place in the world. It's hard to describe it in words but I hope I'll at least remember the feeling.

I have also had more "normal" sight seeing experiences here in Mumbai. I checked out the actual Gateway to India monument which is just a few blocks from my hotel, Bentleys. I wandered around the Fort and Churchgate sections of town and strolled past the High Court and Mumbai University. The Oval Maiden, a large park, was mostly mud so there were not any cricket matches going on but I could imagine it would be a popular spot after the rainy season.

I was inspired by my visit to Mani Bhaven which was the residence of Mohandas Gandhi when he lived, and worked, in Bombay. This is the site where he launched the Satyagraha movement in India and basically changed his country forever. The house is now a museum and office for a foundation.

I have read a lot about Gandhi including his autobiography "My Experiments With Truth" and he has always impressed me. Many of his doctrines and quotes are my favorite reminders for how I want to live. I found some new "favorites" in his former house that I will need to commit to memory. One of his statements about machines summed up nicely my thoughts on escalators.

"The supreme consideration is man.

The machine should not tend to make atrophied the limbs of man."

Mohandis Gandhi

I saw a letter there from him to FDR where he mentions his love of Thoreau and Emerson. This brought a smile to my face; a little validation from a hero of mine that I'll never meet. I also read the most fitting tribute I have ever seen to him, written by Albert Einstein. It's no wonder I suppose that he wrote it. I hear that guy was pretty smart.

"The admiration for Mahatma Gandhi in all countries of the world rests on recognition, mostly sub-conscious, of the fact that in our time of utter moral decadence, he was the only statesman to stand for a higher level of human relationship in a political sphere. This level we must, with all our forces, attempt to reach. We must learn the difficult lesson that an endurable future of humanity will be possible only if, also in international relations, decisions are based on law and justice and not on self-righteous power,

as they have been up to now. "

excerpt from Albert Einstein's tribute to Gandhi as posted at Mandi Bhavan.

I'll wrap up this entry with a fun story. Mumbai is also home to India's Bollywood. Like the U.S.'s Hollywood, it's the center of India's movie making industry. In fact I read that Bollywood cranks out more movies each year than Hollywood. However in my opinion they seem to have sacrificed quality for quantity.

While I was walking down the Coloba Causeway, a main tourist thoroughfare, in the chaos of being asked to buy a dozen things, one guy started walking with me and said "Would you like to be an extra in a Bollywood movie?"

It took a second to register what he had said but then I recalled a section in the Lonely Planet that referred to just this. Apparently at certain times the movie folks need a lot of Caucasians, or just non-Indian, extras. For example, to shoot a scene that takes place in a London Club, instead of shooting in expensive London they just fill an Indian club, or set, with people that could pass for Londoners.

The guy offered me 500 rupees for the day, gave me his card, and told me where to be at 7:30 a.m. the next day if I wanted to do it. I asked him "How do I know you are legit?"

He replied "There will be a bus load of people here in the morning that look just like you. If you don't feel safe you don't have to come."

So much for being discovered I thought to myself, but it sounded like a safe plan and an unusual adventure. I figured the chances of an entire bus load of Westerners going missing was slim so at 7:30 a.m. the next day I set off with about 25 other Backpackers to make our India film debut.

I was expecting to find a movie studio lot similar to what I've seen on T.V. in California, basically a large area with various large warehouses. I also figured it would be outside of Mumbai and would give me a chance to see more of the city and maybe some of the less blighted areas. I was wrong on all assumptions other than the location being outside of town.

It was about a 90 minute bus ride to the set and as I stared out the window during the ride I never saw an area that looked like an improvement from the area I was staying. If anything, Coloba was looking better and better.

The movie production was just like the rest of what I've seen in Mumbai, chaos. The lot was a collection of dilapidated shacks, buildings, trailers, and warehouses. I followed some other people from my bus into a room that looked like a small Good Will thrift store. There a guy glanced me up and down and then handed me a black pin striped suit. No instructions. No explanation. As I moved along to make way for more people coming in I realized this day was going to be about following along and figuring it out as you go.

I put my suit on and figured as long as I didn't take any deep breaths, high steps, or sudden twists it was a good fit. So much for doing any action scenes that day. I guessed they were only shooting from the knee's up also because the thrift store, uhhh, I mean Wardrobe Department, didn't worry about my shoes. So with my "new" suit and Teva sandals on I was ready to become a star. I wandered around the studio, which looked more and more like a condemned building, for a little while until a guy pointed me to set #4. There I found the rest of my Caucasian bus friends and a set that looked like a bar. A bar decorated by a prom committee but a bar none the less.

Bollywood movies are almost always musicals of some sort. They love a good choreographed dance routine. My movie looked to be no different and dance routines were all they were shooting on my day, little dance routines in sections of the "bar". There was probably about 100 of us extras there and we mostly just sat around and talked. I met people from the UK, US, South Africa, Australia, and Denmark. I was the only one just starting out in India while the rest were just wrapping up so I got a lot of good travel tips.

Occasionally a member of the shooting crew would point at me and direct me to stand somewhere. That was the extent of my directions. No instruction to look at something or not look at something. I was not told to smile, or even stop talking. There was no discussion of what my motivation was or what my character was feeling in that particular scene. Hell, even when I stood where they told me to I don't think I was even in the shot half the time. Nobody yelled "action" or "cut". I would just stand where I was told and talk to whoever was around me until they started moving the lights and camera around. This was my only clue that my "scene" was over and I could go find a place to sit down again.

This went on for about 4 hours until there was a break and I followed the swarm of extras to another room where they fed us. I was sitting on the floor with a guy from Australia and two girls from Scotland when I got word of an escape plan. It seems I wasn't the only one a little disappointed with my break into the cinema. I wasn't having a bad time...I was just bored. The thought of another 6 hours there was not appealing and the rumor going around the set from the extras that had been there before was that the day would last easily until 9 p.m. or later. Luckily one of the extras I knew actually knew the area that we were located. She explained that if we didn't mind getting wet in the monsoon outside it wasn't to far to the local train station. From there she could help us navigate the proper trains back to our respective homes.

We all quickly changed out of our costumes and returned them to the wardrobe room. The guy there looked a little confused at the early return. It was about 1 p.m. and we had agreed to stay until at least 6 p.m., a point that was then reminded to me, as we bolted out into the rain, by a staff member trying to thwart our escape. "Where are you going? You can't leave?" he kept saying to me.

I felt a little bad for breaking the verbal agreement but just smiled and kept walking and eventually made it to the gate of the lot, into a tuk tuk, and to freedom. My early departure meant I didn't get my 500 rupees (less than $10) . I'm pretty sure I won't get credit towards my SAG card either but it saved me from a very boring afternoon in an uncomfortable suit. Plus I got another great experience; navigating the local trains back to Coloba. My box car hopping past was good practice.

Of course I am still glad I did it. What a fun experience and a great story. I'm sure I'll make more than 500 rupees when I sell my first screenplay "Escape From Bollywood!" to an American studio.

MJF