Rickshaws, buses, trains, and automoblies

On the highway, occasionally we'll encounter a car driving in the opposite direction, on the wrong side of the road. You'd think they would at least move over for the traffic that is abiding by the law, but no, we have to move off the road for them. Whenever such incidents happen, I'll give Jodie the, "I'm confused" blank look, he always replies, "This is India mam," meaning that anything is possible. Getting back to Delhi...

After spending some time in Delhi, I was bored of my windowless, cockroach infested hotel and needed to move on. I spent Thanksgiving in my room, eating Chinese take-out, while watching a Sikh religious ceremony on Television. The following day, I left for Hardiwar in the late afternoon by train and knew I was in for a treat. The train obviously needed a break, because it stopped for an hour or so in the middle of nowhere. We arrived in Haridwar two hours late. I was slightly concerned that it was nearing 10pm and I was arriving in a complete foreign city. My first lesson of Haridwar was never get in a auto rickshaw with a angry driver. Leaving the train station a young guy asked if I needed a Auto rickshaw, I said yes and he quoted me 100 rupees (two dollars) to take me to my Ashram. He ran off to get the rickshaw and I asked another driver how much it should cost. He quoted me 80 rupees, so I went with the second driver. The first driver came around and flew into a rage. He threw off his hat and screamed at the second driver in Hindi. All the while I'm sitting in the back of the rickshaw, wide eyed, wondering if this was going to escalate into a fist fight. While the two drivers spit and exchanged loud, harsh Hindi profanity, I tried slipping out of the rickshaw, only to find myself coerced into going with the first driver for 80 rupees. The already overly aggressive driver, drove me down the main drag in a furry, weaving in and out of buses 20 times our size. I thought these were my last moments on Earth, but somehow I made it to the Ashram intact. Speechless, I handed him the money and walked towards the Ashram office, wishing to curl up in the fetile postion and suck my thumb. I got a room for $1.50 a night which came with mosqutios, a ghastly smell, and a downright institution feel. I attached my mosquito netting to the broken ceiling fan above my rock hard bed and tried to sleep. The next morning I felt far from rested and the incredible stentch forced me to venture out on the streets by 8am. The day consisted of being the only foreigner dodging beggars and observing Indian families bathing away their sins in the Ganges. The next day I boarded a run down city bus and was off to Rishikesh. In a constant state of confusion of my whereabouts, I asked a man if we had arrived in Rishikesh.