Just Another Day

Scaring Matt

My Unemployed American Life

Ah Yes, the Outcome...

My day in court ended in a fine show of the California Judicial system.  The judge called up groups of five and in my group of five I was called upon third.  The first two in front of me were appearing for some fairly serious fines and were not very respectful of the judge.  I grinned a little inside, knowing that my infraction was not as bad as driving without insurance or running a red light, and the fact that I said "your honor" and was very polite, if I do say so myself.  I asked the judge if there was a way that I could plead not guilty, but not have to pay the fine since it was more than I could afford.  The way it works is, you pay the fine when you plead not guilty then when it goes to court if you win the case you are refunded the fine.  The judge smiled at me and said, "if you plead guilty I'll waive the fine."  Before he could finish his sentence I sang like a bird.  "Guilty as charged your honor," came out of my mouth so quick I surprised myself.  Sometimes things work out well.  Now if I can find out how to get out of my $60 parking ticket, hmmm...

My Day In Court

Getting a traffic ticket sucks.  This is not a new revelation, I just wanted to go on the record and state that sometimes the law is not fun.  On a balmy day in March of this year I was sitting in traffic when I look in my rear view mirror and I see the bubble gum machine going off behind me.  Traffic was stop and go and I had been in the same lane for miles, so I was confident in the fact that I had not broken a law.  Well, it turns out that I had.  I was just hanging up a phone call when I got pulled over and, in compliance with the newly minted hands free law, I was using my hands-free headset that came with my phone.  Apparently my headset is not in compliance with the hands-free law.  Damn.

So Im here now, waiting to see a judge about my $212 fine.  Court is an interesting place.  You have all the people who broke the law, be it wearing headphones or kidnapping a child, all in one place.  It surely is a motley crew.  Today at the courthouse there is a Halloween party as well.  It's like a little salt on the wound as all the workers are happy, smiling, eating cake, enjoying their freedom while I and my law breaking brethren are shuffled around, waiting in lines, and watching happy civil servants eating cake.

Sitting in the hallway waiting to be let into the courtroom makes for some interesting people watching.  Folks are strategizing their defense, making new friends with those with similar rap sheets.  The contempt and general bad mood of all those who are here is palpable.  No one likes to get a ticket, so it is obvious that no one likes appearing in court because of a ticket.  I have my defense prepared.  Plan A is hoping that the officer doesn't show so that the case is thrown out.  Plan B is my actual legal defense and since I have no legal background other than catching a bit of Law and Order and having seen My Cousin Vinny a few times, I'm really hoping Plan A is a success.  I'm guessing that the guy waiting in the hall next to me who is playing video games with the volume up really loud on his ipod doesn't have a good defense.  Hopefully he is before me and I can wow the judge.  I've got my fingers crossed for Plan A, though.

Uncharted Waters

There are places throughout America, and the world, that when I lay witness to them I am awed by their vast expanse and unmolested beauty. When I am in an area that has yet to be filled with houses, industry, or any other evidence of modern civilization I can't help but think what people one or two hundred years ago first thought as they gazed upon these seemingly never ending tracts of mountains, wispy plains, or any number of nature's wonders. I think to myself that they must have been inspired, awe struck, and quite a bit overwhelmed. Overwhelmed at both the beauty and the loneliness that accompanies such daunting remoteness. I have come to a point where I feel as if I have crested a mountain and in front of me is a great plain, filled with nothingness, but rife with opportunity.



I thought to myself the other day that I have been alive for quarter century. I am half way to being fifty years old as well as half way between 20 and 30 years old. I am now in a state of flux as my mind is constantly playing ping pong with ideas inside of my head. Back and forth, back and forth, batting ideas around until eventually I forget what the hell I was thinking in the first place. Ah yes, so what am I getting at? I have a blank sheet of paper in front of me coupled with a monumental case of writer's block. I have my degree now and I have graduated into one of the worst job markets since the Great Depression. I am faced with a good deal of debt from my world travels so I am swallowing my pride and looking for seasonal work in retail. I am setting myself up for more, but my next step is uncertain. I am an extremely motivated and driven person, but without direction I am forced to bide my time so that I may seek inspiration. A piece of advice that I have heeded in the past is, "do what you love and the money will follow." As of right now no one is throwing money at me to travel and surf the Internet on my couch, but I'm going to keep plugging away.

Back In America

For the first time in a long time I got to walk through the "Citizens" line at the customs and border check.  When the agent checked my customs form he asked me if I had been to any other countries prior to Australia and as I started the list he stopped me, smiled and said, "I'll just put "others."  He stamped my passport and I was home.  I'm actually in Hawaii, which is the most familiar place I have been in a while.  I like some of the familiar feelings, but at the same time it's a reminder to me that my travels have neared their end.

As I walked out of the airport I was greeted by my friend who lives here.  Having a real person pick you up from the airport is such a treat.  I didn't realize how much I liked it until I got in Andy's car.  Stepping out of the airport, or off of the train or boat, was a different feeling in each country and besides my cousin picking Seth and I up in Sweden this was the only other time I had a friendly face to greet me.  I think it just starts things off on a good note.

I didn't sleep or eat on the plane so I was hungry, but surprisingly not that tired.  Andy had the perfect plan: malasadas at Leonard's bakery.  Leonard's is one of my favorite eateries in Hawaii.  They are known for their malasadas, which are Portugese donuts.  They are just custard filled donuts, but they are ridiculously delicious.  It took us about a minute to tear through the entire box.  Not having had super fattening sugar loaded American food for a few months I immediately felt so full I thought I would burst.  It was good to be back in America, where fat people are made, not born.  It will take a little training and a lot of hard work, but I'm hoping I can harden back up my arteries in a few weeks.  I had a burrito for lunch, so I jumped right in.  It really is amazing to me how many calories you can buy for such a little amount of money.  I guess when you buy in bulk you get a discount though.

Last Night

I used to be a light sleeper but sleeping in hostels has forced me to adapt to sleep through just about anything. The hostel I am staying in here in Sydney is one of the smallest rooms I have stayed in. Somehow there are 6 beds in this room and each one of them is occupied. Last night one of the local bars was having a promotional night where they invited everyone at our hostel to have free dinner and free drinks. If you are staying at a place that is charging $10 a night, chances are you are not going to miss a free meal, so the entire hostel made their way over to The Gaff to cash in their meal ticket. I got my free meal and hung out for a while enjoying the spectacle of folks drinking as much as they could, as if they could get really drunk on the free booze and store it for another night, rather than thinking of, oh, I don't know, alcohol poisoning.

After some dancing and hanging out I ventured back to the hostel and into bed. A couple of my bunk mates were already asleep and within the hour we had all taken to our beds. I read a little bit, turned out my light, and began to sleep. Before I could fall asleep, however, everyone went insane. Let me fill you in on the cast of characters here first. There is the half German, half Chinese girl who is about 5 feet tall and can't weigh more than 90 pounds, she is a tiny thing, but very nice. Then there is Claire. She is French, a bit quiet, but a nice girl. There is the only other American in the hostel in my room and he is from Cleveland. He smokes a lot and is always showing me pictures of his dogs, which are huge canines. Then there are the two British lads. They are traveling together. They are great fun, always cracking jokes and saying things that wouldn't be funny, but since they say it with their accent it becomes hilarious.

So, as I am counting sheep, waiting to go to sleep I hear this snoring that sounds like a lion snarling. I really have not heard snoring like this before, but sometimes alcohol induced snoring is the loudest. I couldn't tell where it was coming from, but I knew it wasn't the British guys because they were still awake playing cards. I heard Chin, one of the British guys, say,"she's a little one but she can roar," referring to tiny German. "Is that half pint?" I asked, not believing that a person of her size could produce such a sound. "Yeah, bewildering, idn it?" Then, as if choreographed, the French girl started speaking frantically in French as if startled. She blurted out a couple of lines and the British guys and I quickly shut up, thinking she was angry at us. A few seconds later she rattled off some more frantic French, this time sitting straight up in her bed. The French girl was the first person to fall asleep, so we had figured out that she was sleep talking, it sounded like sleep arguing though. Frenchy said a couple more things then laid back down. The Brits and I were stunned, then we started laughing hysterically. With the snoring and the sleep arguing, it was just a strange few minutes.

It didn't stop there, though. The beds in the room are bunk beds and the layout is: French girl and German girl on one bed, me and one of the British blokes on another, and the other American and the other Brit on the last. The French girl had not piped up for a little, but the German girl was still sawing logs when the British guy who wasn't on the bunk with me started digesting his alcohol, which gave him a bad bit of gas. He was not discreet about his flatulence either. He was loud and giggled like a child after each time he relieved himself. It didn't smell great at all. His gas was so bad that it woke up the other American guy. Once he awoke he could now hear as well as smell was going on above him. He piped in with his frustration, "hey man every time you fart it goes right through your mattress and into my face." The British guy came right back and said, "I'm sorry, mate. They were serving cheap alcohol at the pub and it rips right through me." As he said this he ripped off another fart. I couldn't help but laugh. I just started laughing hysterically at everything that was going on and soon everyone else started to laugh as well. In the span of ten minutes we went from normal room to mental institution.

Eventually things started to die down. The British guy digested more regularly, I am guessing the French girl settled her dispute, and the German girl ended turning on her side and stopped snoring. For the next half an hour before I fell asleep, though I would go through giggle fits, just shaking my head at what had transpired. It was like feeding time at the zoo, where everything comes alive for a moment. The next morning everything was business as usual, though. No one said a word about it except for the British guy on the top bunk from me. We passed each other in the hall and he stopped me and asked, "what do you think that French bird was so pissed about?" I laughed and told him that I'm changing rooms if she tries to smother one of us with a pillow in her sleep. I was a little sad that I only have one night left here, but I'm starting to think it is a blessing in disguise.

The Long Walk

Luckily for me Sydney is not that big of a city. It is rather easy to get around on foot and having kept up a rigorous walking regimen I am in peak stride (thanks Arthur Frommer). My list of free/inexpensive things to do here is gradually winding down and today was my day to visit Sydney's famous fish market. I have been waiting for a bowl of good clam chowder for a long time and I was sure that I would find one there. I planned my walking path, which didn't take long. I just had to go out the front door, turn left and walk for four miles. I walked out the door, turned left and began walking. I felt a familiar feeling, though. There was some sort of watery discharge coming from the clouds above me. That's right, it was rain. Son of a bitch. I am starting to think that since the prevailing winds tend to go east to west, and I am going east to west around the world that for the past few months I have been followed by the same dam storm. The clouds look awfully similar.

I made an about-face and headed back in to check the weather report to see if I could just wait out the rain. The weather told me to expect rain later, but that it was not raining at the moment. I am losing faith in the internet, if it is on the internet isn't it true? I decided to go the old fashioned route and ask a local. I went to the convenience store next door and chatted up the worker there. He was from Taiwan, but he had been living in Australia for 2 years. His credentials checked out good enough so I popped the question,"when you think this rain will

clear out?" I asked. "It's done, you will be fine." He replied. I looked outside and sure enough, there was sunlight. I bid farewell to my new clairvoyant friend and chugged on, ever closer to my bowl of clam chowder.

The walk to the fish market from Kings Cross takes you most of the way across Sydney. For most everything that I have done I have taken the same street and today was no different, I would just be taking it longer than I had before. On my walk today I really started to take notice of all the little things. All over the city there are odd little works of art I guess you would call them. In one round-about there was a car with a big rock dropped on it. It is stuff like that, just randomly dispersed throughout the city. It made for some good photographic fodder, but I had to scratch my head searching for a reason why some of these things are there.

I did come across a giant chess board in the park. I stopped for a bit to watch. It was around lunch time and there were guys in business suits, I'm assuming on their lunch break, watching the chess match. Chess is not the best spectator sport. I would liken it to watching someone play solitaire. Every move that was made would provoke a wince or a sarcastic sigh from the onlookers. There was no shortage of sideline critics. Whenever I play solitaire on the airplane I inevitably sit next to someone who starts telling me which red jack to put on some black queen somewhere. I don't think that they understand that solitaire is not a team sport, hence the name solitaire.

With my bowl of chowder beckoning me I beat feet and trudged on. As I reached the fish market the sun started to peek between the clouds. I smiled up at Mr. Sun as I headed into Sydney's famous Fish Market. The market is an old warehouse that they converted, by converted I mean put chairs and tables, into a few store fronts, making it resemble a food court. The eateries are all downstairs and then upstairs there is the auction house where all of the fresh exotic catches of the day are bought and sold. I perused the offerings, still in search of my clam chowder. I asked an official looking person which place had the best clam chowder and wouldn't you know it, the only place that serves clam chowder in the whole fish market was closed for renovation. My c

lam chowder bubble burst. I donned a frown and sulked around the market for a bit. To my surprise, though, I found a delectable bakery. I wondered what a bakery was doing in the fish market, but why look a gift horse in the mouth? One caramel macadamia pastry later and I couldn't even remember what ingredients were in clam chowder.

The fish market is a short walk from Sydney's Darling Harbor, which is an upscale park and restaurant area, so I made a quick stop there. They have the world's largest IMAX screen there. It is huge. They were playing Harry Potter, which I did not have much desire to watch, seeing as Harry would be on a 10 story screen, so I sat around the park for a little. It did not take long for some menacing clouds to appear so I took the hint and made my way home. I felt satisfied with my days work, though. I failed to have a bowl of clam chowder, but was happy to substitute it with my macadamia caramel delight. There seems to be a reoccurring theme with rain and interrupted plans. Maybe I should look at a weather report and plan things in advance. Naaa, what's the fun in that?

The Zoo

I gave in. I only have a few more days down under and I wasn't sure if I would see a koala, so I accepted defeat and ventured to the zoo. The zoo here in Sydney is a great way to see the myriad of poisonous creatures that roam around Australia. I wouldn't want to see the Fierce Snake (Australia's most poisonous) out in the wild. There are few things that would make me scream in a high pitched voice and do all sorts of un-manly things like flail as I rud away, but a ridiculously poisonous snake would be one of them. I admired the venomous things from behind plexi-glass, which was fine by me.

The zoo here just had a new baby elephant. Well, one of their elephants had a baby elephant, but you know what I mean. I put that at the top of the list of things to see, right behind koalas. The elephat exhibit was hilarious. I don't have kids but I always like to hear children talking to their parents, and listening to parents skirt around the procreation talk is as entertaining as any prime time sitcom. "Where did the little elephant come from mom?" asks the kid. "From the momma elephant," was the standard reply. Children's curiosity is generally never curbed after the first question, so the kids would press on, "how did it get inside the momma?" This is where most of the parents would point to something, or suggest that it was lunch time. The zoo has taken the liberty of displaying the equivalent of elephant pornography, though, which throws a curveball at the parents. There is a big picture of two elephants making a baby elephant right in front of the exhibit. There is no way you can miss it. Most of the adults that passed had to have a chuckle, but the kids would ask what was going on. The parent of the day went to a couple that passed by and their child, who was probably around 8 or so, asked them what the elephants in the picture were doing and the dad quickly piped in,"they're having sex. You don't need to know about it now, but you'll find out all about it when you're 16." The guys wife hit his arm and quipped at him and he looked at her and said,"lets be serious, shall we, I'm not going to lie to him."

While I was makingmy way around the zoo I realized that Im not that into going to the zoo. It is a great way to see animals without having to dodge them in a car or worry about them eating your picnic basket, but it is always sad to see those animals in their tiny little cages. I stopped by the seal show to cheer myself up a bit. Those crazy seals can put a smile on anyones face. They can balance balls, jump and touch stuff with their nose, and wave those flippers to say "hi." Oh, those seals, they just love to entertain. They are a lot better performers than the spider monkeys. Those lazy bastards just lounged around.

Feeling satisfied with my tourist ventures for the day I hopped on the ferry and headed home. It is a nice way to end the day. You have to take the ferry from Sydney across the harbor to the zoo and on the ride back you get a great view of the skyline, Sydney harbor, and the Opera House. Even though I already have too many pictures of the Opera House I snapped a few more. Everyone else was doing it, so I gave in to the tourist peer pressure. Maybe I can sell one of my pictures to a postcard company.

Sydney on a Budget

I am nearing the end of my travels, with Sydney being my last international destination before I head back to the states. With the end of my travels comes the near end of my budget. Sydney has forced me to "tighten my belt," as my grandmother would say. I don't mind, though, as with every new challenge comes new rewards. Sydney is a city, and, like most cities, it is expensive. I am limited in the amount of free things to do here, but I have been resourceful.

Yesterday was my first real day in the city so I wandered. I made my way over to the most recognizable piece of Australian architecture: the Opera House. The Opera House is quite an impressive building. I could not believe how clean they keep the roof. It literally sparkles. I wonder if they clean it or if it just has Scotch Guard on it or something. Either way, it is immaculate. As luck would have it my wandering paid off. Around the corner from the Opera House is the Royal Botanical Gardens. It was free to get in and provided a colorful backdrop for my stroll through Sydney.

Sydney has a different sound than nearly every other city that I have been to. There is the usual horn honking, people talking too loud about deeply personal stuff on their cell phones, and the regular ambient chit chatter that accompanies a mass consortium of people, but Sydney has bats, parrots, and all kinds of crazy animal sounds. I sat and read the newspaper for awhile in the park and I ended up putting down the paper so that I could see what was making these noises. The noises are not incredibly loud, nor obnoxious, in comparison to the birds I am used to hearing in Los Angeles, but the sounds are different enough to make one take note. The birds that are around here are beautiful as well. Birds with yellow, white, orange, flashes and contrasts of colors that look like little flying Picasso's darting from tree to tree.

Today I decided to head over to Sydney's famous Bondi Beach. The beach is a little half moon crescent piece of sand that looks like it was cut out of the surrounding rocks. Australia is coming out of their winter and transitioning to spring so even though it is a bit chilly for beach weather (it is about 70 degrees with a cool breeze) folks were out on the sand taking advantage of the cool sunlight.

I eventually made my way back to where I am staying. I didn't notice it until my walk back to the hostel from Bondi, but the area I am staying in is what most people would think of as the red light district. I don't know how I didn't realize it before but there is a lot pubs and strip clubs, which usually translates to the red light district. I looked at my map and sure enough, I am staying in King's Cross, which isn't exactly known for it's country clubs. There is a McDonalds. Right next door is a sign that advertises "Live Full Nude Girls." I knew there was a reason that this hostel was so inexpensive.

The Internet Cafe

Internet in Cairns sucks. None of the places that I have stayed have had great internet, if any. I don't spend much time on the internet. I do like to keep some semblence of what is happening in the real world, though, so I have had to seek internet cafes and McDonalds. I like McDonalds because I don't have to pay for the internet, but I have to buy something, so I buy an ice cream cone. They are $.50 and delicious. When I get fed up with McDs agonizingly slow internet I end up going to an internet cafe, which is where I am while typing this. The internet cafes here in Cairns are interesting places. If you take off your head phones you get a cacophony of sounds. There are several languages being spoken over Skype, people laughing at videos, and a baby crying. I don't know why someone brought their baby to an internet cafe, but they did.

I have had to kill some time before my flight so I found a cozy little interent cafe to lose myself for a couple of hours. Everyone gets their own little cubicle with a computer, which is funny. It is funny because people seem to think that by putting on a pair of headphones and having three little barriers around them that they have some privacy. Folks are clicking, typing, chatting, and video chatting away like they are in their own home. If you aren't wearing headphones, like me, you hear some interesting things. As you walk around looking for an open cubicle it is impossible to not look at other peoples computers. No one is looking at anything illicit, but there are so many people who watch videos of snakes eating hippos and women shooting automatic weapons. The internet is an endless array of anything that anyone wants, though, and internet cafes have proved that sentiment to be alive and well.

McDonalds is a great place to meet other free wifi seekers. The internet is so slow there so you end up talking to others on their laptops because most of your time is spent looking around while the webpage is loading. I have tried to time my web browsing with others sitting around so that we can wait for our pages to load together and have a conversation while the pages load instead of staring at the status bar and doing the nervous knee dance. The internet brings all types of people together online and to put a face on a few of those anonymous has been an amusing past time of mine while I have sought a portal to the series of tubes that makes up the internet. Seeing the people on the other end of the computers seems interesting to me.

Scenic Drive

Spending the night in the rainforest was a great idea last night. All the comforting sounds of nature. Boy was I wrong. I woke up with mosquito bits on my legs and I as I stepped out of my room to go use the facilities there were all sorts of critters everywhere. I jumped at the sight of this good sized rat looking things. The guy who works there told me that that was a tree kangaroo. A lot of the species found in the rain forest are protected and since I had the Nissan Tida with me I had to be careful. So careful, in fact, the hotel owner had to watch me back up and out of the parking lot so that I didn't squash some endangered species. I felt bad but I had to laugh out loud because the hotel owner is a pudgy little Scottish guy who has the quintessential Scottish accent and while I was pulling out he thought he saw something and all I heard was "Shite...oh..ner a pro-blem, false alarm. Keep 'er comin' as she goes." It was perfect.

I had no agenda for the day, which was a big surprise. As I stopped for gas I saw a brochure for a scenic drive up to Port Douglas, which is a posh yacht club type town, so I turned the radio on and headed out. The radio out here is complete shit for driving music. There are nine thousand talk radio stations and one music station. The music station only plays re-makes of 70s and 80s songs with crazy rave beats behind them. I could only take so much of the "boom, boom, boom, boom" before my head was out to explode (I swear that music kills brain cells) so I put it on the talk stations. It was interesting for a little but all of the talk stations just talk about gossip stuff. I lost a lot of respect for Australia today. Of course I was in the Outback. The American Midwest doesn't have much for radio stations either, so I became a victim of circumstance. There were some interesting stories that popped up, which was a welcome relief.

The drive was beautiful. It is one of the very scenic drives in the world that is a World Heritage protected highway. It is easy to see why. The drive meanders along the coast, which is more than just a normal coast taking you through rock beaches, sandy beaches, and these mud beaches that look like someone came and sucked up a bunch of water with a straw because it looks like the shore should be higher up but it isn't. After a while in the coast you turn west into the rainforest, which encapsulates the entire road in greenery making a tunnel out of the forest. The forest is right on the beach but extends all the way up the mountains. Nature did a bang up job with the landscaping here.

I am starting to get really used to driving on the left. I am starting to wonder how it will feel when I go back to the "normal" way. One thing that I will not get used to is the roundabouts in the middle of the highway. You have to be alert because they can sneak up on you too. They aren't as crafty as the kangaroos and cows so I was prepared. I was a little worried that the rave music might have slowed my reflexes, though. I swear they need a health warning on that stuff.

Outback with the Roos

I figured it was time for a change in pace so I rented a car. I love napping in hammocks and lounging around beach communities just as much as the next guy, but I also wanted to see what else Oz has to offer, so I decided that the best way to cover the most ground was behind the wheel of an automobile. I packed up the Nissan Tilda and headed west.

Just twenty minutes out of Cairns I hit the rainforest. I love the way the rainforest feels. The cool, misty air creates a perfect balance of temperature and humidity while the multitudes of insects, birds, and mammals all chirp and chime. It is always hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that at one time the vast consortium of trees, vines, and plants were all seeds once. I don’t know why I always think that, but it is so impressive how life flourishes in the right environment, much like the coral reef.

Since I am in Australia I am determined to see the local wildlife. For some reason I am really into seeing wildlife in it’s natural habitat. There was a koala farm (I don’t think they called it a farm, but I can’t remember what they called it, a reserve or something, whatever you get the point) that I passed straight by. Anyone can go to the zoo and see a koala, but I wanted to see a wild koala. I told that to an Australian guy at the hostel the other night and he said, “why would you wanta see one ‘a those, the lazy little fucks. They sleep like 18 hours a day.” Dale, the Australian guy, has not had a vacation in 8 years and I think it might be time. I hiked through the rainforest for an hour and drive through the entire drivable area and I didn’t see one damn koala. I’m writing a letter to the minister of tourism. Freaking lazy koalas. I stopped by the forest ranger and she told me that they are nocturnal, so I would have to pretty much climb a tree to see one. The ranger station is also a quasi-educational center and for $16 you can have your picture taken holding a live koala. I thought about it, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I wanted my wild koala.

I left the rain forest and headed for the outback. It is fairly comical how the rainforest ends and the desert begins. It is almost like there is a border, there is no thinning out of the forest, then shrubs, then dirt, kind of easing into the desert. Nope. It’s just trees, then no trees. I was flabbergasted driving and looking in my rear view mirror because once you get far enough out of the dense forest into the wide open outback you can look back at the forest and it looks out of place. It made me laugh, like the forest was on it’s way somewhere else and got lost.

The outback is a completely different world from the forest. I guess that goes without saying, though. While driving through I did get to see wild kangaroos. They are hilarious looking, just jumping around. I ended up driving for about 6 hours. The driving is fun and nerve racking at the same time. The roads are your standard two lane roads and you drive through livestock fields, but the difference is the livestock and wildlife are all on the road because there is no chicken wire or fencing to keep them off of the road. I would be driving then all of a sudden there would be a warthog, or a kangaroo, or a huge cow in the middle of the road.I even got stopped by a two cows and their calf. The calf, in typical child-like fashion, was taking his sweet ass time crossing the road too.

I had taken all of my things and checked out of the hostel, fully intending to find a place to stay in the outback, the only problem was finding a place to stay.Apparently the little towns of 30 and 40 people that dot the outback don’t feel that a bed and breakfast or hotel is a viable business in the undesirable outback. Probably a sound bet since 5 hours away is a beautiful rainforest or beach, but I didn’t care about logic, I just needed a place to stay. I kept driving west, thinking that I would stumble upon a flashing neon sign that said “This Is Just What You’re Looking For” but I didn’t see one, so I turned around. I had noticed a neat looking place in the rainforest so I headed back. I was not looking forward to the drive back, seeing as I was a little tired now and I really didn’t feel like playing another round of “Dodge that Oversize Mammal.” Eventually I made it, and I am glad that I did. This hostel is right in the middle of the rainforest. It’s the next best thing to staying in a tree house. 350 miles, no wild koalas, and too many close calls with cows to count, I am in the Kuranda rainforest. I just hope the screens on the windows don’t have holes because everything in Australia is poisonous. I guess I’ll find out…

Planning a Trip

I have already fallen into the lifestyle here in Cairns. Today I decided to get some housekeeping done by doing some laundry, restocking on groceries, and planning my next few days here. Cairns is in a great spot for seeing a number of things and I wanted to see what exactly was on offer. I am not much of a planner, though, so I was working in a field that I am no expert in.

I woke up around 10 and got started on my busy day. I made my way down to the McDonalds so that I could check my e-mails and get a few tips from my travel planner Google. I quickly got distracted by a few of the folks at the hostel, so my 10am McDonalds target quickly became a 12:30 McDonalds time, and now instead of being a solo act, I was joined by 3 other laptop toting guys, free internet seekers. We got to McDs and set up shop. As I started to turn my computer on we all began talking and as soon as the internet turned on we were all basking in the hilarity that the internet has to offer. Videos, songs, and pictures flickered from one screen to the other as we all got preoccupied doing everything but the business we came to conduct. Eventually all of our batteries died and we headed back to the hostel with nothing accomplished.

I decided to take a nap when I got back, after all I had been up for nearly five hours and I had almost gotten something done for the day, so I needed to rest up for the next half of the day when my plan to plan things would likely come to fruition. This hostel has a bunch of hammocks, so I picked one out, got about one sentence into my magazine, and fell fast asleep.

When I awoke I looked at the time and realized it was dinner time. I headed out, got something to eat with a few of the guys from the hostel. Eventually I made my way back to the hostel, turned on my computer and realized that I hadn't done anything on my checklist. That thought made me tired, so I am going to go to sleep and try again tomorrow. It is amazing how easy it is to get nothing done. I didn't even have to try and I was able to accomplish absolutely nothing.

Among Mental Giants

Today I met the dumbest fish in the ocean. This fish is so dumb (how dumb is it?) that it is an endangered species, in great part due to it’s sever lack of instinctual prowess to stay alive. The fish is a Napolean Wrasse and they are really cool looking, super friendly, and huge. They would make great friends. The one that I met today looked like a Lyle, mostly because I could see myself saying, “Don’t ya think so Lyle?” and him answering “yup Sean, hur, hur,” in really hicky, twangy voice.

I spent the day with Lyle and his other friends in the Great Barrier Reef. It is the most amazing place that I have ever seen. There are schools of fish that zip around, manta rays flow by in their smooth calm way, and sea turtles navigate their way through the water. The wildlife, the colors, and the sheer beauty of the place are out of a fairy tale. There is a whole world that is completely separate from the overland one that I am accustomed to, and it is simply staggering in it’s diversity and beauty.

I was planning on scuba diving the reef, but I ended up going a bit sooner than expected. As I was hanging out at my hostel last night a group of folks who were staying here came up asking if I was going to the reef. I said I was, and then they asked if I wanted to join their group, so I did. In total there was about nine of us. The group was a great bunch, and a lot of fun. Jack came with us. Jack is from England, and he likes to drink. I think it is starting to affect his brain, however. I met Jack five separate times today. Each time we met he would ask me where I was from, shake my hand, then say, “oh, shit mate, we’ve already met. I knew you looked familiar.” At first I thought he was joking, but then each time the same thing happened. It wasn’t until the third introduction t

hat I found what I think might be the culprit of his lack of a short term memory. Jack apparently was very drunk the night before and had not fully sobered up. I didn’t mind a bit about introducing myself, it was like Groundhog’s Day. Between Jack and Lyle I realized that I was not in the presence of mental giants, but it was good company nevertheless.

As I walked back to the hostel I kept thinking about the difference between Australia and India. One of the guys that was in the group from the hostel was in India not to long ago and we talked for awhile about how incredible it is and how there is no place like it. In India honking your horn is something you do all the time while driving. Tyler told me a great story that perfectly encapsulates the horn honking phenomenon. Tyler had hired a cab at the wee hours of the morning to take him to the airport. The roads were completely empty and out of the blue the driver taps the horn. After a few more minutes the driver gives the horn a few more taps. Tyler looked at him and asked, “Are you serious, man, there’s no one out here.” The driver looked at him and said, “I know, it is what I do.” I think they just like the sound it makes. They don’t honk they’re horns here in Oz. I don’t mind, but I must say that the silence can be deafening seeing as I was finally getting used to it. It is just funny how a 7 hour plane flight can transport you to another world, and a hop in the ocean can transport you to yet another completely different universe. We live in an incredible world.

The Road to Oz

Walking around Cairns I missed New Delhi a little. The hustle and bustle as well as the endless amount of things to see really started to grow on me in India. Cairns is the definition of a sleepy beach town. School hasn't quite started yet so the town is abundant with shaggy haired, tight pant clad skateboarders and teenagers. India is a place that I am so glad to have visited, happy to have left, and will never forget. It seems a world away from this place, and it is.

I was a little sad to leave the airport in Singapore. I still can't get over how much stuff they had to do there. Did I mention that they had a rianforest nature walk in the terminal? You can't make this stuff up peopele. I didn't take any pictures, though. My flight to Australia was tiresome. I sat next to a family traveling with a little baby who was testing the audible limits of human hearing. The kid had some pipes, I see a rich future in a career as a fog horn, or perhaps emergency siren. The whole 5 hour flight to Darwin he screamed, cried, bawled, and let out sounds that I did not think were possible for human beings to make. At the end of the flight I was really more impressed than angry, that kid was good at what he did.

As I landed in Australia I still had the wonder of if they would deport me in the back of my mind. I knew they wouldn't, I mean who wouldn't want me in their country? I didn't get deported, but I did get selected for a random search. Yeaaaaay! The customs agent introduced himself to me, escorted me to a stainless steel table and proceeded to go through every single item in my bag. As he went through my belongings with great diligence I thought to myself," I'm coming into the country and off of a plane. Why am I being searched to come into the country?" I asked and he said that Australia is very protective of their natural beauty and they are very strict about not bringing any food, organic things like wood souvenirs from other countries, even dirt on your shoes. I appreciated their effort and after he said that I unclenched a bit, realizing that I would not be the subject of a cavity search. That was a relief, until the agent looked at me and said, "ok, just one more thing..." I clenched up. "If I could just see your passport again." I handed over the passport as I breathed out a heavy sigh of relief. He stamped my little blue passport and I was in Cairns.

Of Blunders and Mishaps

I lied to the Indian government. Not intentionally, mind you, it just happened to work out that way. On my application for my Indian Visa I wrote that the main reason I wanted to visit India was to see the Taj Mahal. I hear that it is really amazing. In fact that is what the bus driver for the tour I booked to see it told me. He told me this, then got in the bus and drove away...without me. It was at my behest, however.

It was going to be perfect. The tour that I booked to see the Taj Mahal was to return to Delhi at 10:30pm and my flight to Singapore left at 12:45, so it would be tight, but it would be perfect. That was until I asked the bus driver what time he thought we would be back. I only asked because the tour was to leave at 6am and it was now 7:30am when I was asking him. He looked at the sun and then looked at me and breathed out, "oh, maybe 1 or 2 in the morning." I immediately went into problem solving mode because the ship was taking on water, and fast. I pressed him to find out if there was any possible way to be back at 10:30 and he laughed a great big, evil Disney character belly laugh and said that was not possible.

I got off the bus and walked into the tour agency to speak to the guy in charge to weigh my options. I knew there was no way I would get my money for the tour back so I started trying to figure out what the options he could give me were. All he gave me was that I could have hired a car and driver for about $200 US, which was way out of my Taj Mahal budget. That was it, or come back tomorrow, which would be even more expensive seeing as I would have to fly from Singapore. I thought about the train, but in India if you are a foreigner you have purchase your train ticket 5 hours in advance before boarding and you can not purchase a return ticket, which means that once in Agra, where the Taj Mahal is, I would have to buy a return ticket that was 5 hours out, which would get me back at 1am if the train doesn't break or get lost, which are likely possibilities. After three hours of optimism and problem solving I accepted defeat. The tourism Gods were not with me.

Instead of the Taj I ended up getting a cab to the Humayun Tomb, which is older, less impressive, and not half as iconic as the Taj. It was a shitty consolation prize, but I took it. I ended up just heading to the airport early after I just got tired of lugging all of my stuff around Delhi in the 100 degree heat and humidity. I figured I could putter around on the Internet at the airport for awhile since I would be there about 6 hours before my flight left, but at least I would be in air-conditioning. That's what I thought, at least, but I should have taken the cue from the days events that things don't always go to plan. As I got to the airport and headed in the guard looked at my ticket and said, "no, you can't come in until 2 hours before your flight." I pleaded for a moment, but the guy had a machine gun, no sense of humor, and a big bushy mustache. He was all business. I wandered for a few moments, thinking of what to do. Eventually I did like many of the other people were doing and I found a nice comfortable piece of concrete on the sidewalk, curled up and slept off my frustration. For being hot, humid, and surrounded by smelly people I actually got a couple solid hours of a nap in on the concrete. It was surely welcome as well, seeing as the frustration from the day really took it out of me.

When it was time for me to be granted permission to enter the premises it felt good to back to familiar territory with check in counters and air-conditioning. There I went again, though, thinking that things would be smooth. As I checked in, the ticket counter guy asked me for my Australia visa. I told him that I was going to buy it at the airport, which is what the Australian website told me before I left, albeit a couple months ago. I was wrong, Australia changed the rule last month and I could not board my flight until I had a valid Australia visa because I would be deported if I landed without a visa. That would have been a perfect ending, being deported. I ended up being shuffled around from person to person until finally I talked to someone wearing a sport coat and a nice tie. I convinced him to let me use his computer and so that I could apply for my Australia visa, which takes 24 hours to be approved. Then I talked him into only book me on my flight to Singapore and not all the way through to Australia, since I had a 13 hour layover in Singapore and I do not need a visa to travel there. With the 13 hour layover in Singapore I was sure that my visa would have been pushed through by then, at least that's what I hoped. He reluctantly obliged, although I think it was mostly just to pass me off so that I would be Singapore's problem.

After all that I am in Singapore and my visa was accepted so I will shortly be boarding my flight to Australia. This is a very poorly written entry because I am tired, hungry, I have to pee, and the story is still pretty fresh, so it stings a little to relive it. It was an experience, though.

I have made the best of my layover while here in Singapore. This is the best airport in the world. It has mini golf, a pool, showers, a fitness club, a bounce house, and they have free city tours if you have a layover longer than 6 hours. At every counter they have candies. It's like Disneyland! I didn't really feel like doing the city tour because there is a resort type island that I have wanted to see here in Singapore which the tour didn't go to, so I made my way around the city. Singapore feels like a city that they just popped the freshness seal off of. Their economy is one of the fastest growing economies in the world and much of their infrastructure, like roads, the metro, buildings, are all brand new. Add that to the fact that they are very near the equator so they have an unbelievably tropical climate making the city covered in lush greenery and vital wildlife and you have an impressive place. It is a beautiful place. It was a welcome respite from the past 36 hours. I still can't wait to get to Australia and lay on the beach, though. I guess I shouldn't get my hopes up too much, though, I am not in the country yet so I still have the chance of being deported. That would be the cherry on top of this layer cake of blunders and mishaps.

The Monsoon

So it rained today. I didn't think much of it because I was inside most of the day. After my visit to the coiffeur I strolled around for a bit. I then realized that I hadn't eaten anything and it was 2 in the afternoon. I hopped into the nearest eatery and grabbed a bite. As I was gnawing on lunch I looked outside and noticed that it was raining. The rain began as a trickle, then, as if the dam broke from the leak it had sprung, the heavens opened and visibility went to nil. I saw people running for cover so I decided that it was a good idea to grab a post lunch tea and some dessert. The rain only lasted for about 15 minutes or so and once it let up I made my way outside. As I stepped out of the restaurant I felt as if I was transported to another world. Cars were wheel-well high in water, people were gathering their things as they floated down the street, I was just waiting for Noah to float by in his ark.

I guess these monsoons they have here are serious business. I chatted with the hotel manager after wading my way back and he said that this has been a really dry season. He was telling me that they usually have rain like that, but it usually doesn't stop for weeks. Once again, I'm glad I live in Los Angeles, where rain is worth interrupting Days of Our Lives as "breaking news." The part that I understand the least is why the city is designed so poorly to accommodate the monsoons. This was a quick rain in a dry season and the section of the city I was in came to a stand-still. If that lasted weeks Delhi would float away. They know it's coming, so why not prepare? I am only an arm chair critic, though, so I do not have room to criticize. It was pretty crazy, though. I had to smile, though, because last time I was in rain that hard I was bailing water out of a doorway. I decided that I am in retirement for now when it comes to bailing water, and I don't see a comeback anytime soon.

By the way, India has the coolest coins ever, I put a picture of the backs of the 1 and 2 Rupee coins. How awesome is it to have a thumbs up on your countries currency? I laughed so hard when I saw that. Its just great.

Shave and a Haircut

I have been looking pretty shabby lately and feeling quite fuzzy. Luckily New Delhi is a hotbed for personal grooming services. You can get your shoes shined, grab a haircut, body massage, you name it. You can usually find all of those things within yards of each other or sometimes in the same shop. I walked into a shop that cut hair, did massages, nails, sold clothes, and booked travel tours. It was a rather ambitious business model, I thought, but it seemed to be working.

I walked out of my hotel and surveyed the local barber shops. There are impromptu hair cutters that set a chair up on the sidewalk, much like a shoe shiner. I wanted to splurge a little so I opted for a barber with a roof and a more permanent mirror. I can be spoiled some times. I found a quaint little barber that had the two letters I really wanted to see on the sign: A/C. It is a hundred degrees and 100% humidity and the monsoon decided to pay a visit so it is raining like crazy to boot, so an indoor, air-conditioned shop was well worth the extra 50 rupees (about $1 US).

I walked in and to no great surprise saw the normal goings on of any good barber shop, a whole lot of newspaper reading, loud talking, and little work being done. As the bell on the door rang and I stepped through the threshold the shop went silent and all eyes turned to me. There was an older guy sitting in the barbers chair who set his glasses down his nose and peered over the lenses at me. "Hello my friend. Oh God, you need a haircut and this," he smiled as he rubbed his chin, implying I had let too much of my primate roots catch up with me. I smiled and took the chair he offered me.

He wrapped me up and went to work. It sounded like Edward Scissorhands as he jetted around my head and clumps of hair fell off. He could have been cutting me bald or writing his name in my scalp, but I was mesmerized by how the guy would eye up the cut, make a little "eh" grunt, then snip, all within a second. Within a few minutes I went from shabby backpacker to modestly well-kept backpacker. I still needed to get shaved, which I was nervous about for some reason. I had never had someone shave my face before and for some strange reason I kept having these visions of the guy slipping and blood shooting out of my neck like that "Scanners" movie. Except their heads just exploded, but you get the point.

As the guy laid me back and lathered me up I had the uncanny urge to talk in my best mafia voice and say, "Pauly, did you take care of the thing?" The guy stopped and asked, "huh?" I knew it would only be funny to me so I just said, "oh, nothing." It was an inters ting experience getting shaved. I felt like a sheep being sheered, but my face has never been smoother. When I looked in the mirror after he finished I just laughed. I looked completely different without a weeks facial hair or my Puerto-fro. It is a welcome change, though. It was well worth the experience. All in all, the shave, haircut, and uncomfortable face massage (uncomfortable because of how nice it felt, that old man has magic in his fingertips) only cost 100 rupees, and I tipped the guy another 50, so about $3 US. Its almost worth the flight over here just to get a haircut and buy some clothes. Ah, India...

Broken Things

Normal things can become difficult in a matter of seconds. For instance, a taxi ride back to your hotel can become a walk on an Indian freeway when your "tack-tack" breaks down. Such was the case today. I decided to go back into downtown Mumbai so I grabbed a tack-tack to the train station and hopped on the S train. The train was much busier than yesterday and as a result I found myself hanging out of the train doorway again, only this time I didn't have the option of coming back in. The train car was bursting with people and I was there hanging out of the doorway holding on with a kung-fu grip to the side of the train. Eventually we passed enough stops to thin the herd out a little and I was back to a comfortable hang rather than an "Oh shit!" hang out of the door.

Once in Mumbai I decided to do some shopping. I forgot my swimmy trunks in South Africa so I decided to make use of the strong dollar and find a bargain. I really can't get over how inexpensive things are here. I picked up a shirt, two pairs of shorts, and a pair of swimmy trunks all for about $18. All of the stuff was brand new and name brand, in fact the shorts I bought still had the U.S. price tag on them and they retail state side for $89.99. Satisfied with a successful bargain hunt I treated myself to a cup of Darjeeling tea.

I sipped my tea at a trendy little coffee shop on a busy street corner. Mumbai is an interesting city to observe. As the city hustles about it seems as if it could be New York or London, but then a guy on a bicycle that is loaded ten feet high with boxes passes by or a cow walks through the street. The little things that are unique to India always make me chuckle to myself.

I finished my tea and headed back to the rail station hoping that I wouldn't have as stressful a train ride back. No dice, it was just as packed, I had a little better position, though. I feel like I am getting better at the whole jockeying for position thing and I earned the respect from the locals by standing firm. Once of the train I flagged down a tack-tack and I was on my way. It is only about 4 miles from the rail station to my hotel, but my tack-tack didn't eat it's Wheaties and shut down. The driver looked at me and said, "broken," in his best English. My impulse got the best of me as I asked, "really?" as if that would magically fix the little tack-tack. No dice. So, there, literally in the middle of the highway, I helped push the busted tack-tack off the road, and began my walk back. I just laughed to myself. I felt a little bad for the guy, but as I walked back I passed about three other broken tack-tacks so I just figured that it was a normal occurrence and the guy could fix it.

My walk back was through a slum, which was a bit eye-opening. I don't really know what to say other than I just can't believe that places like this exist. It is unfortunate. I don't even know what to say, the conditions are absolutely horrifying. As I got to my hotel I have never felt so fortunate to have a bed. I really don't know what to say.

Just a quick aside, I started writing this entry at the Mumbai airport and I had finished but wasn't able to upload it and on the way to my hotel from the Delhi airport guess what happened? My taxi got a flat tire. I must be good luck. This time I could lend a hand, so the cab driver and I changed the flat. This one was pretty scary, though, because it was midnight and we were on a really busy road. Needless to say we fixed it and were back on the road. Maybe I should just walk from now on...

Mumbai and the Ganesha Festival

My day started like most others. Actually, I can't really say that because everything that I have done in India has been just a little different. I started my day with a shower, but the showers here are not like showers I am used to. The shower head in the bathroom seems to have been an afterthought as it is haphazardly just put into the wall. It is about normal height for a shower head, but it is a foot right of the toilet and there is no curtain or shower basin, so you just shower and the get the floor all wet. I swear it feels like I'm doing something wrong because I just get water all over the place in that 8 square foot little bathroom.

Regardless, I showered and headed out into the world. I was excited because I would have to ride the train into Mumbai today. My hotel is about a 40 minute train ride outside of the city center so I got a tuck-tuck (that is the name for those little three wheel half motor-bike, half Volkswagen things. They got their name because that's how they sound, "tuck, tuck, tuck, tuck"...you have to say it with an Indian accent though, seriously that's how they sound) and I headed to the rail station. Once there I got into line, which was quite a long line, but moved rather efficiently. I purchased my first class ticket, which meant that I got a padded seat instead of a prison-style stainless steel one, and I headed to platform 2.

Once the train came I was already smiling. People are hanging outside, running on and off before the train even stops, it is organized chaos at it's best. I really wanted the full experience so I waited for the train to get going before I jogged and jumped on. Once on I had to make my way to the open door and hang out. It is an awesome feeling holding onto the train and letting your body hang out. I thought people just liked doing it but as the train started getting more full it got real hot and muggy and I realized that hanging outside with the cool breeze was the best spot on the coach.

I got off the train in downtown Mumbai and started to do my normal wandering. Mumbai is definitely more of a European/industrialized city than Delhi. Mumbai is India's largest city and the second largest in the world, and it definitely lives up to those stats. At any time in any nook and cranny there is a flood of people. The city itself looks right out of the Jungle Ride at Disneyland. Besides the smattering of modern buildings, most of Mumbai is buildings that the British built while India was still a colony. The buildings are all uniquely Mumbai, and they look as if at any moment the safari guy from Jumanji is going to come out riding an elephant.

I didn't have a plan for the day so I just walked around and tried to get into something. As luck would have it, I got into a mess. At around 5 o'clock I started to make my way back to the train station to catch my train home. Once at the train station I started hearing all kinds of drums, hollering, and then fireworks. I had a few minutes so I walked over to see what the commotion was about. There was a parade, people dancing in the streets, throwing this colored powder on everyone, guys on other guys shoulders playing drums, it was a huge party. There was another train later so I took out my camera and started to get closer to get some pictures. I made my way to the side of the street and started snapping away and as I was taking pictures I noticed that the people dancing and parading were hamming it up for my camera. I looked around and quickly realized that I was the only one who looked like me around. All of the paraders seemed to like that I was taking pictures so I kept snapping and wouldn't you know it after a minute I was surrounded.

All of the people dancing in the street were begging me to take their picture, tugging at me to dance, and introducing themselves and inviting me into the parade. Me being the opportunist that I am quickly jumped in the mix. Within seconds I was dancing with dozens of people in the middle of the street, throwing magenta colored powder at others as they threw it at me, and eating cake. I went from observer to participant in seconds flat. I still wanted to document this, so I was there trying to snap pictures, dance, introduce myself to the scores of children coming up to me asking me my name and where I was from, shaking hands, and being pulled in ten different directions as every kid there had something to show me. One of the kids grabbed my hand and whisked me away to a little room that housed a statue of Ganesha. That was when it hit me that this must be something having to do with Ganesha.

A few of the guys there tried to describe what the party was for, but they did not know English and my Hindi, even with all the practice I had yesterday, is non-existent at best. There are somethings that transcend language, however, so we all danced, clapped high fives, threw colored powder, and ate the cake of Ganesha. I felt like a celebrity with all of the people asking me where I was from and wanting me to take their picture. It was an unbelievable experience. As I walked back to my hotel covered in magenta powder, fireworks blasting in the distance, I just smiled and laughed to myself. I had seen an Indian color festival before on TV and I always thought they looked fun, but I had no idea they were like this. People on top of cars stopping traffic just to dance in the middle of the street, playing drums while the people in their cars let up on their incessant horn honking for a moment and enjoyed the party. Some of them even left

there cars in the middle of the street and started to dance as well.

When I came back to the hotel the owner, who is a really nice guy and always there, looked at me, covered in magenta powder, and his eyes got as big as saucers. "Oh my, goodness!" He rang out, in his perfect Indian accent. "Get a camera," he said to the other guy working there. "We need a picture. Oh my god man, what did you do?" He asked me. I told him the story and he filled me in on the 10 day Ganesha festival that is going on, then he laughed at the magenta mess I was in. He told me to get cleaned and he would make me some rice, he really is a nice guy.

I still can't believe that one moment I was taking some pictures and the next I was hanging from a truck throwing powder, dancing with kids, and eating cake. It really makes no sense to me. I came to India really on a whim, with no expectations and absolutely no plans, other than to see the Taj Mahal, and I have been overwhelmed. This is a day that I will not forget, I will just look back on it and smile.

New Delhi Tour

I had to catch an 8 o'clock flight tonight so I decided to take a city highlights tour of New Delhi. I found a quaint little tourist information location and walked in. Many of the tourist information offices serve double and triple duty, such as a hotel, water filter sales, restaurant, the list goes on and on. I found one that was also a hotel. For some reason that was convincing to me that they were reputable. Most tourist agencies also have a "Government Approved" sign, which this one did, so in I went. I was greeted by five people and they were joined by three more that popped up out of nowhere. They all smiled and ushered me to have a seat and as all of them started talking to me at once. I spoke up, a little startled at the fact that I walked into an ambush of tour salesmen, and said that I was looking for a map of Delhi. This was the fourth tourist place that I had been into asking for a map and I told myself that if I had the same result, which was a blank stare then the guy taking out a map of all of India in Hindi the size of a cocktail napkin, then I would just bite the bullet and take a tour instead of trying to do it on my own. I got the same result, except the 50 some odd guys helping me decided to get a world map. I gave in and asked if I could book a city tour with them and they obliged me and shuffled me towards the best English speaker of the clan.

I asked him if I could book a tour of Delhi and he smiled and said, "we have a tour leaving in 20 minutes if you would like." I agreed and handed over my 350 rupees. I could have paid 200 rupees for the non air-conditioned bus, but seeing as the extra 150 rupees comes out to roughly $3, I decided to treat myself. As the bus pulled up I quickly realized that it was not air-conditioned. This was evidenced by the people hanging out the window sweating profusely. I was shuffled onto the bus by the 8 tourist booth workers, all of whom were on their cell phones and waving at me, assuring me everything would be ok. I went with it, hopped on the bus and away I went. On the bus there were about 6 workers, each one of them hopping on and off the bus as it was still moving, busy shuffling about and talking on their cell phones. This is wh

ile the bus is making a u-turn. At this point I still had no idea what was going on or where we w

ere going, or why it took 6 people, all on their cell phones, to get a tour going. The bus made it's u-turn, stopped, and the driver turned and pointed to me and pointed to the door. I grabbed my things and went out the door. Two cell phone using guys greeted me, asked me for my ticket, which I produced, then they nodded and walked away. There I was, no ticket, no tour, no idea of what the hell just transpired in the last ten minutes.

Then, about thirty seconds later one of the cell phone using guys appears, hanging out of a moving bus. He jumps off as the bus comes to a screeching halt in front of me. "Ok, we go now." Was all I got as I was ushered onto the new bus, which was air-conditioned. Everything was starting to come together. A few hiccups, but I was right where I wanted to be, on a city tour. The bus chugged away and we were off. As we pulled up to our first sight, which was the Indian Parliament, the tour guide started to talk. I couldn't understand him at first, which I was thinking had something to do with his accent, but then it hit me as I looked around the bus; I was the only non-Indian person in there, and the tour was all in Hindi. It never occurred to me to make sure the tour was in English. I was seriously the only non-Indian resident on the bus. At some of the attractions we went to they have a line for India residents and a line for foreigners (which is usually triple the price for residents) and each time I was the only one from my bus in

the foreigner line. I made the best of it, though. I laughed when everyone laughed, nodded when everyone nodded, hell, by the end of it I was paying more attention to the tour guide than everyone else, and I couldn't understand one damn word.

Luckily for me most of the things on the tour had signs with English subtitles or were so self-explanatory that I didn't need a tour guide. It was a small consolation, though. I wish I spoke the language. The tour guide said something that must have been really funny because everyone was laughing real hard and as they walked off the bus they were repeating it and laughing some more. I laughed, but I didn't know what the hell I was laughing at. If nothing else I became an expert at pantomiming in Hindi today.