La, la, la...

Because I attempt to avoid eye contact and conversation with most people, I think I've forgotten how to speak. Being the only foreigner in Haridwar, I was stopped yesterday to take a photograph of two Indian men standing by the Ganges. When they asked me where I was from, I stumbled on my spoken words like a insecure teenager. My Indian angel, Enu, told me before departing Delhi that it might be best not to announce that I was American, so I told the men I was from Vancouver, Canada. To my surprise one of the men informed me he lives in San Francisco. I wanted to hug and embrace him, but I thought this might frighten him, so I resisted the urge, instead I told them that I too once lived in San Francisco. Getting back to Jaipur...




Despite my obsession with getting worms at the Monkey temple, this was the highlight of my trip in India so far. When I returned back to the Hotel, I found two of my travel mates sharing hot chai in the lounge. I expressed my enthusiasm for the free Monkey Temple and decided we would return the next day. We went upstairs to check on Nate, who had vomited all over the bathroom toilet. He lay in bed with the chills, attempting to figure out what made him sick. "I think it was the milk in the cereal I had this morning," he would say. "No love," I'd reply, "I too had the milk and I'm not vomiting all over the toilet." This interaction went on for a while, as we watched a baby water buffalo get malled by a pack of female tigers on Animal Planet.




Before departing Jaipur the next day Jodie took us to the Monkey Temple. On our way, my travel mates informed me we were going to stay at the Sheraton in Agra that night. I sat there exressionless, while my travel mates were expressing their joy for the gym and miniature golf. Then we started the trek to the fascinating Monkey Temple. Before long, two of my travel mates turned around midway to the temple, because they felt that everything looked like it was dying. I wanted to say,"Well, we're all dying," but I thought this might not be the proper conversation to have with these people. Before I had time to think, I informed Nate I was going to be taking off on my own. As we made our way to Agra, my mind ran circles where I should go next. Upon arriving at the Sheraton, I felt more out of place than I had felt the entire trip in India. I was wearing a long, orange hippie skirt and the same smelly, sleeveless shirt I had worn for the past four days. This was not my cup of tea, so I had Jodie take me to a windowless, shitty hotel in Agra, where I attempted to reestablish my purpose for visiting India.

Since there were random knocks at my door and anonymous phone calls to my room during the night, I had no problem getting up at 5am to go see the Taj Mahal. Jodie had already swung by the Sheraton to pick up my travel mates. I hopped into the mini van to hear stories of lavish room service and treadmills at the Sheraton. We got to the Taj, where we had to wait in a corrupt line for over an hour to see one of the seven wonders of the world. Finally, we got to see the great Taj Mahal standing tall in a midst of fog. Hundreds of tourists snapped photograph after photograph. People seemed to spend more time viewing the monument through the lens of their camera, than simply observing its magnificent presence. When departing, Nate informed me that he took over three hundred pictures of the monument. I wondered if he had even seen the Taj or whether he was too preoccupied with getting the perfect picture to place in a frame above his fireplace mantle. We went back to the Sheraton, where I bid my farewells to the my travel mates. Off I went with my new friend, Jodie, back to dirty ass, polluted Delhi, to figure out my next plan of action.




I had a bad cold, with a fever by this time and Jodie offered me a "tablet," as he called it, that would fix me right up. He sensed my uneasiness and he told me, "not a sex pill." Jodie blasted his Indian music and we stopped at McDonald's where they served no beef burgers, only chicken, and primarily veggie burgers. We also stopped at non-tourist approved rest stops for chai, where I pissed in a hole in the ground. Jodie and I chatted the entire way. He described his miserable arranged marriage and other Indian customs, along with his desire to leave India.

I called my Indian angel, Enu, to inform him I was coming back to Delhi and asked if he could suggest a hotel where I could collect myself and heal for a few days. Arriving back in Delhi only reconfirmed how much I hated it. Loud, polluted, intense madness everywhere you looked. I got situated in my midrange $25 room in Delhi and slept for hours on end. I spent a few days in the confinement of my hotel room. It was difficult stepping foot out of the hotel. You had to constantly be on the look out for crazy drivers who will run you right the fuck over...I love India...xoxo...to be continued...