And it continues...

Except for my pastie pale white skin and my prominent Roman nose, I could be mistaken for a Indian. I can be seen carrying a load of dirty mediation cushion covers on top of my head, with a belly the size of 5 month pregnant lady. Yes, I eat too much rice and chapatis (small circular flat bread) and only sit and meditate. Good thing I'm beginning to understand the truth of impermanence, otherwise, I would have a difficult time coming to terms that I've gained weight in India, instead of losing weight. I'm on a search for a tape worm. I guess Holy water, does not come equipped with worms, as I had thought. Getting back to Delhi...

After my short nap in my $6 crap hotel, I had to walk through the madness of the main bazaar and make my way to the train station. I got to the train station and stood in one of the million different lines. Men were cutting right in front of me. As I stood there about to go into a tangent, I realized that I was in the wrong line. Males and females are segregated. That's right I thought, this is India. I made my way to the line that read "LADIES." I purchased my local train ticket and was told to go to another line to find out which platform the train would be arriving on. This simple task ended up requiring going up and down flights of stairs, talking to numerous rude, unfriendly people, until I was finally told to go platform 4 or 5. Interesting I thought, no one was sure where or when the train would be arriving. I ended up waiting at platform 5 for an hour or so finally asking a newspaper seller if he knew which train would be going to Ballagarph. He shook his head "no." I finally sat down, without a trace of anger, realizing I had once no control over the situation, therefore, it would do me no good getting upset. At that moment the newspaper guy pointed at a train arriving on platform 2 and told me that was my train. Kind thanks were given and I sprinted up the stairs and down to the other platform, just in time, as the train barely came to complete stop before taking off again. The train was incredibly crowded and everyone stared at me as I jumped through the door. I was the only foreigner. Two very nice school aged boys offered me their seat. Perspiring buckets, I thanked them kindly and sat down with my huge backpack sitting on my lap, blocking the view of the million dark eyes staring directly at me. Madness I thought. How does anything get done in this country..I love India...xoxo...to be continued...