I left the States and now I'm here, in India.

After 22 hours of travel, including a four hour stop in Frankfurt, two six to eight hour plane rides, and a four hour car ride to Pune from Mumbai, we are finally here. From Philadelphia, where Jousting and I visited old and beloved friends for a few days, we drove with Juliet Jacobs to Newark Airport. Our final breath of American air smelled like a parking lot.

The flight from Newark to Frankfurt was Continental and I watched the Godfather Part II. I could not sleep, even though I should have.

And what about airline food, for cryin out loud?

In Frankfurt, Jousting and I realized that no longer will our drinking be hindered by force of law. After a pint each and a bottle of wine between two at the airport bar to celebrate this reality, we were ready for the second eight hour flight. On the flight, I fell asleep readily.

I awoke to Shrek 4 and more airline food, this time in the Indian tradition. Then, more sleep. Food, sleep, food sleep, foodsleep. The two activities became my sole traveling activities. As I awoke, a Bollywood movie was finishing.
The movie was about a guest who called himself the uncle of the hosting family (even though they did not recognize him as such), and far overextended his welcome. Ironically, they began to enjoy his charm and wit, and when they became separated from him during the Ganesh festival, they spent the entire night looking for him. Worry heightened. They found him the next day only to realize he was not hurt or dead, but merely spent the night waiting for a way back (and did not call). They argued outside the apartment building when all of the sudden, a man drove up and recognized the guest as his uncle! Apparently the whole time he had the wrong room and thus, the wrong family.
How hilarious! I enjoyed the plot, a movie about nothing. They kvetched and kvetched about how cumbersome hosting this "uncle" truly was, which he seemed to be, but would not ask him to leave. It seemed like a plot for a Seinfeld episode.

I spoke for a two hours with my neighbor on the flight, an IT specialist from Hyderabad coming from Slovakia. The American-based IT company for which he works has business all over the world, and he had spent a month in Eastern Europe working and traveling. He said he enjoyed how much less crowded Slovakia was, but complained how bland European food was. He was unable to eat plain boiled potatoes. After the flight, he helped Jousting and I fill out our Immigration forms and find our luggage. I will always appreciate his help and friendship.

The journey from Mumbai to Pune was decidedly tiresome. We arrived in India at 1:30 a.m. this morning. The air was sticky and the airport exit had a white tent with bright colorful lights as decoration. Beyond that, Mumbai was dark, littered, and canine.
The first thing I noticed coming out of the city of Mumbai was the dogs. I must have seen eight or ten every mile in between naps on the car ride. Sleep was needed. We stopped at a roadside store, what may have been the equivalent of a trucker stop. Gene, one of the program coordinators, asked if we wanted food. Foodsleep, food sleep, food, sleep. Jesus Christ, no thank you. It was 4 a.m. and while I hadn't eaten in four hours (and could have), more food was not appetizing. Nevertheless, they had snacks I could not help but try. One seemed like Indian Chex Mix. Finally, we arrived at our hotel at around 6 a.m., just before sunrise. Jousting and I are sharing a room, sounds good to me.

We ignored the first wake-up call, and I jumped like a cat on the second one. As we dressed, we received the third. Crap, late. After a cautious welcome conversation on health, where the program doctor advised us to wear masks in public places (I will not), we ate a very very mild lunch. They say we should wait to eat really spicy food for otherwise we will get sick. If you know me at all, erring on the side of caution is not my style, and so this meal was a bit disappointing, but the caution will probably be healthy in the end.

We broke into groups and spent the afternoon exploring the city. In a group of five to seven whities, we received many strange stares. Fair enough, for we saw two other whities on our long walk. The streets teem with rickshaws, scooters, motorcycles, cars, and the occasional bicycle. Sidewalks are split by massive tree trunks and gaping potholes--one must keep open eyes and swerving footsteps. I attempted discretion by wearing sunglasses, but that may have only heightened my presence. Our group stopped at a coffee shop near the university which was full with university students and a Western atmosphere. "The Reason" by Hoobastank played through the coffeeshop speakers, twice.

Caffeine and Hoobastank can cure jetlag, right?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fV4DiAyExN0

We ambled and ambled, always to be noticed by locals. Surprisingly, I was only accosted by two beggar children in the four hours we were walking. One boy kept walking with us, holding out his hand to my belly button, saying "something" and "please." After his third time approaching me in the group, I finally gave in and placed a two ruppee piece in his metal bowl. We saw the river where water buffalo grazed the lush grasslands on the riverbanks and where a group was making drums near what was either a temple (judging from its large white cone structure) or a motorcycle store (judging by the large amount of priced motorcycles sitting in the courtyard of the building).

On the other side of the river, we found an actual temple where we cautiously entered, afraid of insulting or overstepping our boundaries. Everything seemed ok, and we felt dumb when we took off our shoes unnecessarily. That was ok, even if the courtyard stone was scalding. In the ornate but blackened temple, the courtyard had a large statue of what we guessed was Krishna's bull, or perhaps not. We did not go completely inside, it did not feel right.

We saw cows sitting in the street, the occasional cat, dogs everywhere, and a goat standing on a bed in a house (?). Jousting petted one dog, and he followed us for about an hour. We creatively named him Buddy.

The trees here seem great for climbing, but I am afraid to climb them. Not because of the treachery, but rather, from my fear of standing out more than I already do.

Now I am sitting in my hotel room anticipating dinner.

David