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.