Farewell, India, hello, Nepal!

My last week in India was a wonderfully easy-going ride in the north. I took a noisy bus to McLeod Ganj (Upper Dharamasala) in Himachal Pradesh, where it was nice to have a breather after several days of fast-paced sight-seeing. I met a great group of people in the chilly little village bordering the Himalayas, and spent the whole week working on revisions in the very cozy Cafe Arabica, battling Delhi Belly while trying to continue inhaling as many delicious momos as humanly possible, and puzzling out the mysteries of the universe (no, really...) on rooftops beneath the stars.

I also managed to time it right for seeing the Dalai Lama speak--pretty incredible to witness, as he's just decided to step down as a political leader, though I couldn't understand a word, as it was all in Tibetan--as well as observing Holy Day for the Hindus--essentially, a big party where everyone throws paint at one another.

I made cursory attempts at yoga (my stomach rebelled both times) and meditation (where, thinking I had succeeded in my intense focus on the third eye, I suddenly realized I had been worrying about my taxes for several minutes...), and did some light walking around the beautiful scenery. Then I headed to Delhi, where I spent approximately one and a half hours before heading to the airport and Nepal. In the airport a man farted on me, loudly and deliberately. Farewell, India.

I've been in Kathmandu now for a few days, getting last minute stuff together for my trek to Everest Base Camp. Hooohah! I'm so freaking excited for this thing. I met my group of five (plus me) today, and what a bunch of awesome, interesting people they are! We've got a Romanian ex-pat who has repeatedly circled the globe, a Bostonian bad-ass who used to run for Nike and is now a master of Haiku, an English ex-pat who has already run several marathons this year and has hiked everything from Rainier to Aconcagua, and a Californian couple (IT guy and former professional ballerina) who went to Botswana on their honeymoon. All are definitely (as REI requests) "infused with a sense of adventure."

Oh, man. This is going to be amazing. I'll be "going dark" for two weeks, obviously, so stay tuned for an update when I've returned from thin air...

Running: the addiction that sneaks up on you.

Right now, even though it's pretty sweet to be hanging out in Kathmandu, Nepal, I'm yearning for New York. Why? (Yes, I miss loved ones and brunches--thank you, G, for planting that seed...) But right now, in this moment, I really, really miss running. I crave it, suddenly and surprisingly. I just walked for hours, but my feet still itch with the urge. After the marathon, I never thought I'd yearn for that regimen again, but now all I want to do is put on my tennies and headphones and do the loop in Central Park until my legs give out. And I can't.

I know some people (like Laura, from A Wandering Sole) manage to keep running while they travel, but I haven't really found it to be a viable option in the places I've been (excepting New Zealand). Beyond finding it hard to imagine running in these crowded, winding streets, as a woman alone, I want to stay as covered up as possible, and donning running shorts seemed implausible, particularly in India. That, and I didn't bring my shoes...

Don't get me wrong, there's no doubt these past few months have been incredible, but while taking in world wonders and eating delicious treats, I've gotten pretty unhealthy. So as I'm preparing to hike to Everest Base Camp next week, I'm excited not just for the exhilarating sight itself, but also the physical endurance and exercise it'll take to get there, to finally feel my body straining for something again. It's going to be awesome! Then after, maybe new running shoes will be in order...

Just a quick note to say

I am surrounded by the Himalayas, sitting on a floor of pillows and drinking chai in India. I saw the Dalai Lama speak this morning.

Is this real life?

*Edit: Six hours after writing that, I was afflicted with my first case of the notorious Delhi Belly. Yes, this is real life.

Month Three

My third month, traveling from Thailand into India, was all about acclimatization. I was way out of my comfort zone, but with time, I settled in. The one rupee coin has a thumbs up on it—how can you not warm up to India?

Now I'm starting to really love this country just as I’m about to leave it—the colors, the landscape, the food, and even the heat. I love her contradictions, especially: a sea of garbage trod on by immaculately dressed women in beautifully-colored saris; fresh sewage running along the street leading to the breathtaking Taj Mahal; a man in traditional dress working in an electronic superstore; hands reaching for your wallet just outside the Golden Temple, where everything is free; ultra-effeminate heterosexual boy love alongside such dismissal of women; the incredibly complex (and flawless) system of organization for laundry and lunch delivery in sharp contrast to the mind-numbing bureaucracy endured to accomplish the simplest task; “untouchable” children begging in the same streets frequented by beyond-touch Bollywood movie stars...

So many languages, cultures, religions, castes…all thrown together and coexisting to form one thundering heart, one indescribable country: this is the spice of India.

And there’s so much more to see!

Favorite place: Udaipur

Favorite experience: having Ad around to share it with
Favorite meal: thali in Ahmedabad

Favorite saying: "The only problem in India is no problem." [head wobble]

Favorite lodging: Hotel Castle House, Goa

Sights

I accompanied Wayne and Nicole to the train for an ultra-quick sightseeing adventure. We took sleeper class for the first time, which I didn’t find much different from 2 or 3 AC, apart from the fact that people were infinitely more curious about us. I arrived at my berth the second night to a family of 8 who watched me like television. They were quite entertained when, climbing to my upper bunk, I lost balance and catapulted over the side, smashing my breast bone into the side and landing in their laps. It was a definite Bobbie moment.
After a breakfast I never grow sick of—samosas and chai from train vendors—we headed for the Taj Mahal. We had four hours in Agra, which, minus train station, rickshaw, lunch, and queing up to get in, translated to about half an hour at the imposing world wonder. What a sweet half hour it was, too! The Taj Mahal shimmers in the light, and is so bright that, without sunglasses, it's difficult to look at directly. Though it appears to be all white at first glance, there are intricate designs throughout. I’m not doing it justice, so I’ll just concede that the monument to love is, as they say, indescribable.

There were many people eager to get a picture with me (even more with Nicky, for her red hair); white skin makes one a celebrity in certain places, which, having grown up in the West, feels strange and a bit discomfiting. I imagine it's how people must feel when I want a picture of them for their colorful saris and bracelets, so I try to smile with as little awkwardness as possible for the women. The men make me more uncomfortable.

After Agra, we headed to Amritsar, where every moment was notable for the overwhelming kindness and inclusiveness displayed by the Sikh community. On my way into the stunning Golden Temple, a man offered to show me around and explain the ceremonies and construction. The entire sight, inside and out, is covered in gold leaf, and the singing you hear from outside is live, all the time. A man named Rohit stopped us on the street to offer his help, and we ended up sipping the tastiest lassis with him. We also received everything for free—from a room at the Golden Temple to meals at the incredibly efficient 24-hour kitchen, which runs on volunteers and donations, and feeds up to 100,000 people a day. We took a turn at the sewa (selfless service) as well: Nicole helped make chapatti, and Laura from England and I chopped veggies on our last day.

In the evening of my second day, I rode 20 kilometers to the India/Pakistan border in a death-defying van ride (seriously the most terrifying driving I’ve yet experienced—which is really saying something, in India). What an experience! Every day at 5pm, the guards on both sides perform a dramatic border-closing ritual. As tensions between the two countries have grown, this ceremony has expanded to become a sort of dance off a la “Honey” (yes, I did just reference a Jessica Alba movie), and the daily audience grew enough that they installed bleachers. Beyond the lively, crowd-inclusive dancing (taken from the latest popular Bollywood films), women lined up to run with the Indian flag down the street toward Pakistan, there were call-and-response cheers, and the impressively-uniformed guards flamboyantly high-kicked with solemn purpose toward the gate. Through all of it, of course, the crowd went wild.

After many dosas, ice creams, and package shipping together (you have to have packages sewn up by a tailor in order to mail them), Wayne and Nicky took off for Delhi, and I packed my bags for Dharamasala.

Rajasthan--Ahmedabad and Udaipur

After Ad left, I felt miserable and lonely. It seemed impossible that I had done this on my own for almost three months, and I felt like just heading home. Instead I caught the next train out of Mumbai.

Ahmedabad was a dazed day and a half watching Bollywood movies on TV and mourning Ad’s departure in a hotel called the Ritz Inn that, while not related to the actual Ritz, was hands down the fanciest place I’ve stayed during my travels. I got room service twice.

On day two I did manage to venture out into the rickshaw-packed streets to do some errands. Without a map and with all the street signs in Hindi, I felt quite overwhelmed at first, but many kind people pointed me in the right direction. I had been nervous that I’d find it a lot more difficult without Ad around (beyond just missing his presence, I was worried I’d be harassed a lot more, based on some of the warnings I’d received). I’m relieved to say that that hasn’t been the case. If anything, people seem more eager to help and genuinely concerned for my welfare as a woman traveling alone. As such, I was able to locate a printer and get my hard-to-procure contact solution and phone charger without too much hassle.

(Let me take this moment to strongly advise against the Lonely Planet ekit for an international phone; the rates are through the roof [I’m paying almost $4 a minute to call the US from India despite the advertised $0.39], there’s a delay on the line, the charger broke, and the phone itself is such an ancient model that, despite the overwhelming number of technology stores on the streets here, NO ONE carries that type of charger anymore. If you plan to travel and need a phone, it’s much smarter to buy the phone and SIM from the country you’re in. Also, it’s worth noting that my $50 universal charger from New Zealand refuses to work in any outlet here, though I’ve spotted my former $2 model in use in several cafes. Grumble, grumble.)

After my errands, I had one of the best meals of my life at the restaurant atop the MK Mansion. I also went to see the Sidi Saiyad Mosque (where, shoeless and head covered, I was invited by one man to step closer and encouraged to take a photo, and then yelled at by another who told me women weren’t allowed in and my picture-taking was incredibly disrespectful).

Another overnight train later, Udaipur was a little haven. Situated on a lake and in a valley, the white city—most buildings are white, as opposed to, say, the blue homes of Jodhpur—was distinctively less sweltering than my former stops, the people were friendly, and the whole place seemed infused with an easygoing outlook. The colors were also incredible—the brightest turquoises and richest saffrons I’d ever seen. I love Rajasthan.

I ventured to Sunset Point the first evening, but of course got lost in the tiny, winding streets and was in danger of missing the sunset. A store owner volunteered to drive me the short distance so I’d make it in time, so I had my first, thrilling ride on a motorbike, dodging and weaving through rickshaws, cars, and pedestrians, and arrived safely and breathlessly to the spot on the hill just as the sun started its descent into Lake Pichola, lighting up the Lake Palace in the center.

On my second day, Chiky, my rickshaw driver from the train station, took me on a half-day tour to see Udaipur’s key sights, including the palace, the Museum of Heroes, and the folk art museum (complete with free puppet show), but the highlights were the detour to the bustling fruit and veg market and the final stop at the Royal Memorials, where I sat alone and in silence among the sea of imposing cenotaphs, awestruck. The rest of my time during my almost week-long stay in “India’s most romantic city” was spent working in the extremely comfy rooftop restaurant of my hotel, looking at intricately detailed scarves or miniature paintings in the shops (where one very kind old master taught me how to improve my yogic breathing), or having guitar sing-alongs with Israelis. It was bliss. On Saturday morning I was, as usual, sitting on the floor of the hotel restaurant, drinking a banana lassi, and doing some work, thinking I might never leave Udaipur because it was so carefree and comfortable, when, out of the blue, in walked Wayne and Nicole. I had last seen my friends over a month before, on Tonsai Beach in Thailand, and had not expected to meet up with them in India at all. Yet, we ended up in the same city, at the same time, in the same restaurant. Very auspicious. With only five days left in India, they were on a whirlwind, marathon train adventure, determined to see a few more major sights before leaving. It was just the nudge I needed, so I checked out of my hotel on the spot, waved goodbye to fair Udaipur and my Israeli friends, and joined them on the train to Agra.

Goa, Mumbai, Ad…

With Ad it felt easy. Easy between us and easy to travel. It was a huge relief to have so much of the work of traveling lifted from me, even for a short while, and I found myself leaning on him more than I expected. He explored the neighborhood while I worked. He paid attention to where we were going so we could find our way back. He got me coffee. He asked directions and hailed cabs. I could leave my stuff at the table when I went to use the bathroom without worrying. And, of course, it was wonderful to have the one I love there, in person.

We’d planned on three days in Goa, but instead we vegged out for five full days, taking in sunshine, lots of food, and one another’s company. There were vendors and touts everywhere, and one guy, in particular, so wanted to sell us light-up devil horns that he gave us a twenty minute demonstration of every one of his products. Goa is supposedly “ultra Western,” with bikinis on the beach a regular sight. Not my experience. After about ten minutes of being leered at in my bathing suit, I resigned myself to a t-shirt and pants. The staff at our hotel was highly entertaining, as was the dog and Mr. Bigglesworth-like cat pair that playfully attacked one another.

My 28^th birthday was spent sipping pina coladas on a beach in India with one of my favorite people. Culture, love, and more than a few gray hairs. Not too bad. But the best part of my birthday happened a few days before, on the train ride to Goa: sour patch kids. No that wasn’t the real best part (though we did demolish those in hours—thanks, Mom!). The real best part: We were bored, and Ad said, “I know something that will pass the time,” and brought out a stack of envelopes. Oh, man—letters from friends and family! You guys made me laugh and cry, and some (Connie’s) did both, simultaneously and with snorting. I miss you all so much, and it was great to have a little piece of you halfway around the world with me on my bday. 2011: best yet.

In Mumbai we stayed in Fort, near Crawford market. We decided to do some sightseeing and passed the British-constructed Gateway of India to take the ferry to Elephanta Island. There we saw the extremely old (specific, right?) caves that had taken 1,300 years to complete. Imagine your whole life spent chipping away at one piece of stone. They were incredible. There were also monkeys everywhere. Sad monkeys, monkeys drinking Sprite. I’ll never get over the sight of monkeys, just lounging about. It always seems so improbable. I got too close to one nursing mother monkey who responded by almost biting my face off. Woah, there.

Another afternoon, we headed out to see the Haji Ali Mosque rising from the sea, where there were lots of families beautifully dressed up, and teenage boys pushing one another into the water. At Chowpatty Beach, we watched couples shyly hugging, and we spent a lot of time just walking around Mumbai, eating sweets and taking in the tightly-packed streets, the rushing motorbikes, and the fabric stalls.

Then, way too soon, Ad had to go home, and I had to leave the home of Bollywood.