For whoever happens to be tuning in and hasn’t read the previous post, coming up is a telling of my adventures on our (our being the five other girls I was traveling with) trip to Delhi, Agra, and Varanasi. You've tuned in just in time to catch my tales of an Indian bus ride (sleeping train, to be exact) and my exploits in Varanasi. 

Choo choo train....So I realized that I've never been on a train before. Ok sure, I have been on that MetroRail thing that takes you from Disney park to the parking lot--but I'm pretty sure that doesn't count. So I had my very first train experience here in India. The train stations here are insanely busy; a perfect manifestation of how overpopulated this country is. (Oh jeez, I ended a sentence with a verb--English majors, look away!) So after weaseling our way around the station and finally arriving at Platform 9 (we stood between 9 and 10, unfortunately I couldn't find a magical wall to run through to get us to 9 3/4's but I'm pretty sure the Hogwarts Express doesn't stop in Delhi). Once we arrive at the platform, we wait. We were about an hour early so by the time 6pm rolls around we're ready to get moving. But of course the train is late. 2 hours late to be exact. Luckily enough, we meet a nice Indian family while waiting that help us find the right car when the train arrives. Mind you there's no announcement that the train is the right train and it seems impossible that we could have found the train car on our own. Our ticket said 1st class A/C but it turned out that the train wasn't equipped with such luxury so we were really in 2nd class A/C. 

The beds in this train were 6 to a section which means that two are parallel with a space between them, one perpendicular, and they're all topped off with another layer of beds (bunks). The problem is that the beds that are perpendicular are directly bordering the aisle, as in the general aisle that everyone uses to make their way around the train. We very unluckily ended up with six of these kind of beds. Did I mention these beds are also much thinner? I don't want to relive the experience in detail but let's just say I realized in the daylight that the toilet emptied out right onto the train tracks, there was a mouse or two meandering the train cabin, and I had a rough night mostly because there was no curtain to cover my bed so I slept on top of my bed with my knees nearing the aisle...and constantly being bumped by those selling things or going to the bathroom. Oh, and the windows were terribly useless. One of the reasons we decided to take a train was so that we could see the scenery of the countryside....but all I could see was yellow through the "window." I did manage the shape of camel at one point and I must say that was very exciting. The train went at snails pace and seemed to stop constantly so we arrived to the station in Varanasi four hours late. Alas. 

Our time in Varanasi was very interesting, to say the least. We took two boat rides (not a motorboat) on the revered Ganges River--one at night and one the next morning to see the sunrise over the Ganges. It was a much wider river than I had imagined and, at sunrise, it was extremely crowded with people bathing in it at every possible area on the river's edge. 

People immersing themselves in the Ganges

We also paid a visit to the Crematory (via our boat on the river), which I found fascinating. Everyone is cremated here and there ashes are then sprinkled into the river. This process allows their remains to be "purified," so only those who are already pure are not cremated. In this category are kids younger than 10, pregnant women (because they're housing such children), and holy men (monks). These parties are tied to a large rock and sink to the bottom of the Ganges. There is a particular set of families that attend to the crematorium, and only these families are authorized to do so. The men of the families of the deceased come to watch the cremation (the body is wrapped up in foil, we saw one sitting on a set of stairs near the eternally-burning fires), but the women of the family are not allowed to attend as they are clearly too fragile to witness such things. 

I'll put up some more pictures on Sunday night (my time) but now I must rush to my Hindi quiz and then to Mumbai for the weekend- it'll be our second field trip there. Have a great weekend! 

Delhi and Agra: Arches, arches, and more arches

Study abroad is like a big fat lie you tell the registrar. “Oh, yes,” you tell them, “I’d like to broaden my horizons and study abroad.” It sounds so noble and worldly. Thing is, we all just want an excuse to travel, or for some to escape Chicago. We’re lying when we say, “study” because (while most of us don’t want to fail our classes here), we’re all here with one purpose in mind: to see as much of India as possible, to live in India. I’m not saying that we don’t work hard; I’m just saying that moving campus to India and studying until our brains explode is not what we’re here for. At least that’s certainly not what my intentions are here. I want India overload for three months. This past week, that’s just what we got. And you know how the saying goes….careful what you wish for…

The first couple days of our 9-day break I had a staycation, recuperating from my bout of dengue fever. But on the fourth day, I picked up and headed to Delhi. I went to join my five friends (all female) who were also going to Delhi after a short stay in Mussoorie. They saw the very tips of the Himalayas and say it was quite beautiful. 

DELHI...upon first impression seemed so tame in comparison to the other cities we've seen in India. At least as far as the roads were concerned. There was a median between lanes of oncoming traffic! Not only a median, oh no, there were even efforts to have landscaping (!) on the median; plants that were actually intended to be there and maintained! I thought I was in the States for a bit. Then we arrived at the house we were staying at...which was awesome! We were so lucky one of the girls had a connection that let us stay in this great place for a couple of days. We were also lucky enough to be treated like princesses--there was a small staff that cooked for us and drove us all around Delhi and to Agra for a day-trip. 

Our first night in Delhi, the capital city of India, we did some shopping and had a nice dinner with one of the girl's parents. We also passed by the presidential mansion and houses of parliament. The presidential mansion was immense but the most exciting sight turned out to be monkeys that made their way on the top of the gate and jumped (they really looked like they were flying) around the grounds. 

AGRA....was our first full day. We woke up at some ungodly hour and drove for hours. Sleeping in a car isn't usually difficult for me, but when the roads are often unpaved and beeping is a way of life...well, you get the point. So after the mildly painful drive over we picked up our guide and headed for the famous Taj Mahal. Which, by the way, is not pronounced the way you've been saying it all your life. It's a two-syllable name pronounced as if you were saying "taj mawl." I'm sure you all know what I'm taking about but for you visual people I've included a photo. Overall, I was mildly impressed--more impressed by some aspects than others. The details on the inside of the building were rather incredible- some small floral carvings (maybe 2" across) had 16 different tiny pieces of marble inlaid in a larger slab (maybe 5' x 3'). It's possible that I appreciated these details more because 1) you're not allowed to take pictures inside so you're forced to actually look around and observe (what a shame) and 2) it was shady inside and given that we toured the Taj Mahal at midday, shade was a welcome thing. Agra is the temperature I'd imagine hell to be, plus or minus a couple degrees. Oh, and 3) I'm sorry but I just can't accept that this building was at all necessary. Ok, it's mildly romantic that some guy built this to house his beloved (third) wife but really it's a total and complete waste. I'm sympathetic to religious structures, but a mausoleum that took twenty thousand workers twelve years to complete?! C'mon. (Sorry if I just ruined the building for you, it's overrated anyways). 

Behind some greenery

A slightly different view

Some of the details on the outside resemble those within--note the colorful floral adornments at the base of the arch

After the Taj, we'd really worked up an appetite so we headed to a restaurant. We then decided that said restaurant was too expensive and we should try for a cheaper option. Along the way to the restaurant, we'd passed a McDonalds. And yes, I'll admit it, I'll even profess it proudly, we did indeed visit that lovely home of the famous golden arches. It. was. delicious. And a cultural experience, I might add. A couple of us feasted on McAloo Tikka sandwiches which have fried spicy potato (in lieu of a burger), some red sauce that's not ketchup, and tomato. Maybe I was just overly famished but it tasted amazing--I've never been so impressed with McDonalds before. (Well, aside from when they had really awesome toys that came in my Happy Meal and I got to swim around in those playground pools of plastic balls...back when I was too young to consider the germs involved.) We also all feasted on brownie sundaes afterwards and I've got to say having one of those (even Micky D's quality) after more than a month of withdraw was quite fulfilling. I've got to say, McDonalds definitely provided me with a very happy meal. 

McAloo Tikka with fries (India does fries well, by the way)

We passed by Agra's Red Fort after lunch but we were all so exhausted from the heat that we ended up just taking pictures outside and saving ourselves the Rs. 250 entrance fee. Ok, so that's less than $5 but we had just paid Rs. 750 to see the Taj Mahal. I suppose the entry prices wouldn't be upsetting if the price wasn't so outrageously different for Indian Nationals. At all these "World Heritage Sights," tourists end up paying at least Rs. 250 and the locals pay Rs 10 or 20. Why am I not more tan?? 

Our second day we saw more of the sights of Delhi. This included Delhi's Red Fort (they seem to be big on those in India), the Gandi memorial, and Lodi gardens. The Red Fort was reminiscent of the Taj Mahal with similar inlaid marble work. As for the Gandi memorial, I'm not sure Gandi would have wanted one...? I feel like that wouldn't be part of his very "Golden Mean"-esque life...but who am I to question the memorial-maker? Lodi gardens was a nice place, we stayed just long enough to snap this picture. 

In the name of not overwhelming you (or giving you too much to distract from whatever you should be doing), my next post will bring details of our journey via train to Varanasi and our adventures there. And, of course, anything else that might happen that I think will entertain you. Stay tuned! 

J-walking: A way of life

I'm doing much better these days, thanks for asking. I had my blood sucked out of me for the third time in this country today and--drumroll please--my platelets are now in the normal range!! This is very exciting news because it means that I can travel! So tomorrow I hop on a plane to Delhi and we'll see where it takes me. 


I did manage to venture out a couple times in this weekend of serious R and R and I learned a couple things. One thing I learned from the comfort of my hotel room was that the festival of Dassera took place this weekend. More on this festival here. I didn't realize that I didn't need to read the newspaper to find out there was a festival. I went out and...bam! Flowers. Everywhere. I must admit that normally you find a flower shop every three doors down but this was very different. Rows of bright orange carnations with alternating dark green leaves were strung on every passing rickshaw and car. These flower lines also graced the entrance to shops and even the hospital. I saw a couple bicyclers (we're talking pedal pushers, not motorcyclists here) with flowers in the spokes of their tires. I'm not sure what the significance is of the orange flower, but it's clearly loved. 


I also learned that before 10am on the weekends, the roads are not such a terrifying place. Before 10am on a weekday (when we make the daily pilgrimage to class) the roads are, to say the least, dangerous death-traps. Ok, so I've never seen a pedestrian get hurt or a car crash of any sorts but I'm convinced it's only a matter of time. Crossing the street here is unlike crossing the street in any other country I've been to. Cross walks are few and the only way to cross is via j-walking...which is really j-weaving. You make your way across the street by compromising with all the people on the road. You move forward, they slow down a little. Usually this involves much honking and a sudden rise in my desire to know how to curse in Hindi. 


I've had one close call. On one fine Wednesday, I came to the realization that I must cross the street. Needless to say, I don't like making this realization. I walked up to the curb and started making my way into the street. The street seemed one-way so I made sure that to the right of me the cars were clearing up. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a motorcycle zoomed by literally two inches from my feet (coming from my left). Not such a one-way road after all. The thing is it's often impossible to tell because the lines on the street are ignored completely. I honestly wonder why they're there...someone must be very optimistic. I survived the motorcycle incident with a new appreciation for taking my time to assess the situation before dashing across the street in haste. 


And, speaking of haste...I must make haste and hit the hay. Have a great week, I'll be back Sunday hopefully with stories galore. Stay away from those mosquitoes! 

You give me fever

I want to start by saying that I'm very sorry to have paused my blogging and gone on a short hiatus like I did. Thing is, I'm sure you wouldn't want to read about the exciting adventure of brushing my teeth or my daily battle over which conservative (and clean) shirt to wear. One more thing, and this has nothing to do with readership...I simply didn't feel up to it. Whew. That aside, let's get started. 


The last couple days have been completely surreal. I'm in India, that's no longer surreal to me. I'm 20, OK that one is a little harder to grapple with. Two decades?! No, can't be. What's most surreal, however, is hearing you have managed to contract an illness you were previously deathly afraid of. 


Last Sunday, sitting in Mumbai in the hotel lobby, I could feel that I was running a fever. Like a good pre-med student, I popped a couple Advil and waited it out. By Tuesday, the fever was still carrying on and refused to take a hint from all the meds and get out of town. With our 10 day break/vacation on the horizon, I started to get worried that I wouldn't be better for it. So I headed to the doctor to see what was going on. 


Indian emergency rooms (or at least this one) are very odd places. In general, Indians have this thing about being barefoot. It's much more common here to walk around without shoes (even if you can afford them), usually indoors more so than outdoors. The hospital is no exception. The nurses wear shoes but the other employees run around barefoot. The doctor's office also cannot be entered unless one goes in barefoot. Another thing that's odd: the waiting room is never full. Think of an emergency room in the states. From my experience, they're always packed full of people--usually hypochondriacs like myself who go there because they had one shooting pain in their abdomen and they're now convinced their appendix is going to rupture at any moment. This emergency room waiting room is sometimes empty. To think! Empty! Enough about this. 


Oh, and I must give a moment to Indian blood-taking methods. In the US (and in Peru, I might add, in fact I thought this was universal), a needle is inserted into your arm and small tubes are attached to it and switched off...tubes with different colorful caps. This lovely tubes have a slight natural vacuum that allows your blood to simply flow into them. They work perfectly. In India, the syringe is used. Let me clarify. A syringe with a PLUNGER. What this means is that they open the plunger when it's attached to the needle that's in your arm and they literally suck the blood out of you. Like vampires. It's very unpleasant. 


So to condense a long story and four visits to this emergency room, I've been diagnosed with dengue fever. Also know as the "bone crushing" disease because of the pain it causes, dengue is a tropical virus transmitted by mosquito. Currently, it's estimated that about 2.5 billon people, two-fifths of the world's population, is at risk for contracting this illness. One of the problems with dengue is that it lowers your platelet count, it also lowered my WBC (white blood cell, for you non-premeds) count. 


From what I understand, the first time you get dengue it's not so awful. However, unlike other diseases where you body builds an antibody, dengue weakens your body's immunity and hits harder the second time. What I'm saying is that dengue is a middle school bully that steals your lunch everyday then keeps adding to your punishment for just being a scrawny kid. 


My experience with dengue has been unpleasant, but not too bone crushing. The first five days brought fevers and a very achy body. A couple days in my ears, face, and body started getting redder and yesterday I started with some bone symptoms. It feels like growing pains all over again, aka short-lived shooting pain in isolated areas. 


So my friends have all left for their vacation in which our plan is to see Mussurie, Delhi, and Varanasi. I'm hoping that I will be able to meet up with them when they're in Delhi. In the meantime, I stay here in Pune trying to grow platelets and WBCs. 


I'd like to leave you with my classified add.


Dearest, darlingest mosquito population,


I despise you with a fiery burning passion. I attempted single-handedly to massacre your populations in the Amazon and I do feel that I made progress, but there is much more to be done. Your populations will be eliminated. Prepare for complete decimation. You wreak havoc everywhere you're found and no one likes a party pooper. I will find a way to wipe you clean off the face of the earth. Until then, I will continue my brutal methods of force and squish you to death every chance I get. 


Cheers to your death and utter destruction,
Christy 

Mumbai: a playground for 18 million

This weekend, I found myself in Mumbai, formerly known as Bombay. It's the capital of the state of Maharashtra (which I like saying because it sounds like Maharaja...the evil Maharaja to be more precise). Anyways, we went to this fabulous Asian restaurant for dinner and had some delicious dim sum. 


Sidenote: A little bit on drinking in India... Unfortunately, India seems to be very keen on having "dry days" where no alcohol is served even at bars. These often occur on celebratory days like Ghandi's birthday or the start of festivals. The caveat to this policy, however, is that four and five star places will serve alcohol. That being said, it was a dry day when we arrived in Mumbai but we luckily found Poly Ester's...a dance club right above our dinner spot.


Yes, I think for the very first time...I went clubbing. It was quite the experience. We talked our way into not paying the cover (so the entire group of us got in for free). Oh, and I haven't mentioned the best part of this experience: our professor accompanied us. Yes, this certainly means that our professor danced with us. It was fantastic.


The next day, far too early in the morning, we headed to an architecture school where we  learned all about the development of Mumbai. The commercial capital of the country, the city is home to around 18 million (the world's second largest city according to Wikipedia). To give you reference, New York City ranks at 14 on this list. The city started as a Portuguese settlement north of where the city currently stands. A Portuguese princess married a Brit and the dowry was the seven island archipelago that now makes up the city of Mumbai. The islands now form a peninsula as the swamp land separating them has be reclaimed (like Lake Shore Drive in Chicago!). The center of this metropolis started at the base of the peninsula and seems to forever press northward.

I also learned a good deal about "slums." When someone says the word slum, I think blue tarp and cardboard--I think of very temporary shelters erected for the purposes of housing extremely impoverished people. I was very wrong. A slum in India has a good deal of infrastructure. It's a place where people live and work, where life and culture center around the streets. Slums are home to nearly fifty percent of Bombay's residents but they only constitute five percent of the land in the city. Needless to say, they are extremely dense in terms of population. 

We visited Dharavi, one of the largest slums in Asia. It stretches over less than a square mile, yet estimates of its population reach as high as one million people. It's also home to around 15,000 one-room factories. Seeing the slum I was completely astonished that I could have had such a narrow view of the term "slum" and what it could encompass. People were definitely all on the streets; there were stalls where men cut up animals for food, stores selling jeans and men's shirts, and little children running around playing. Some stay in slums, according to our lecturer, simply for cultural or family reasons. We saw pictures of slum housing with flat screen TVs or a Mercedes-Benz parked outside. So much for blue tarp and cardboard.

Sunday we saw quite another side of Mumbai. We visited what once was a mill (perhaps a textile mill), which is now a huge mall--and a very fancy mall at that. And I've been to many, many malls in my day (too many, I'm sure). I don't think even the Indians are used to this intense luxury--we watched one woman have some serious trouble getting on the escalator until she finally gave up and walked away. 

I should also mention that poverty seemed much more obvious and tragic in Mumbai. I was walking around holding a pair of shoes for a friend (he needed closed-toed shoes for whatever reason) and a little girl walked up to me. She tugged on the shoes then pointed to her bare feet. It was awful. In reality, she'll never fit his shoes so she clearly didn't want them for herself but I felt really guilty....how many pairs of shoes do I own? I was wearing TOMS shoes so I felt slightly better about myself (this is my shoutout to TOMS, which are the greatest shoes and they support a fantastic cause: http://www.toms.com/international), but I still felt badly. The problem is how helpless I feel; I know I can't help everyone and it frustrates me that there are things like "Paw Spas" in America and these people are literally sleeping on the sidewalk. I've even seen people sleeping on the median--as in in between lanes of traffic on the highway. 

On a brighter note, yesterday was Happy Thoughts for World Peace Day and the Dalai Lama gave opened up the celebration here in Pune. Unfortunately we didn't get to see him but  I did think lots of happy thoughts for world peace. We got back into Pune last night after what seemed like an eternal bus ride (time does not fly when one has a fever). Our hotel has become our home away from home and the staff part of our study abroad family, so we were very grateful to come back and have a delicious dinner in the dinning room. Paneer masala never tasted so good--and, of course, masala chai (everyone's favorite). 

Punjabi Dancing and an Indian contradiction

First, a dancing lesson. No make that two. Yes, we've had TWO dancing lesson so far (all six of us who don't mind making complete fools of ourselves in front of each other and a very talented dancer). We're learning at least three types of dance in the next five weeks and we've started with Punjabi. A very high-energy dance, it reminds me (in terms of the energy level) of the type dance commonly associated with musical theater. I remember a director once told a group of us musical theater nerds that you should be shooting energy out to the audience so that they'll have no choice but to forcefully receive it. This, the theory goes, will leave them begging for more and leaving the theater feeling energized and happy. This is definitely the goal for the audiences of Punjabi dance as well. According to Wikipedia, it's a dance commonly performed at Punjabi weddings and festivals. A festival begins this Saturday in which men and women (the dance is designed for both genders) will hopefully be dancing in the streets. Punjabi, a fast-paced dance style, requires a good deal of coordination. It also requires some jerking motions that us Americans don't seem to be quite so skilled at. Our teacher keeps saying, "it's very natural, it's just like jumping while sitting," describing this one movement that looks something like a body roll fast-forwarded with more of a kick to it (not a literal kick). The dance is very entertaining and fun to watch--and as us dancers have learned it's also quite the workout. Especially out in the Pune heat. Whew. 


We have a week off after the end of our first course in which we're free to travel the country. I'm going with five other girls up to see North/Northeast India. We went today to the local train station to book some of our train tickets. Little did we know how much we'd learn about India in this little trip. 


The group of us have come to the conclusion that India is a country without rules. For one, the "personal bubble" we take for granted in other parts of the world clearly does not exist and seems to have never occurred to Indians as an even distant possibility. I stood in line for a couple minutes before I realized that people were assuming I was not part of this line because I wasn't physically breathing on the person in front of me. Yes, this means that the foot of space I left between me and them (as a courtesy, for the sake of germs if nothing else!) clearly means I'm not in line. There were times when we were physically standing in front of the window being helped by the attendant that women would nearly shove us over and attempt to hand the attendant their papers. One man asked, when we were four inches away from the person in front of us, if we were in the cue. Seriously?! As for the other lack of rules, don't get me started on the lack of road rules. I'm still wondering why anyone bothered painting lines separating out lanes of traffic going in opposite directions. Everything is relative. 


Another thing that made an impression on me was this man we saw lying on the ground. He was clad only in a white lion cloth sort of thing and he was skinny. We're talking Holocaustal here. I took a picture (below)...which was debatably a terrible thing to do. I gave him money and I think if he knew my reasons for taking the photo he would have allowed it. He didn't seem to mind at the time but I'm not sure he noticed. Anyways, it was absolutely heart-breaking to see this poor guy in such a state. He was holding a few coins in his hand and kept rolling around groaning. When I approached him to put money in his hand, I noticed his eyes were watering and caked with something. He mumbled something in Hindi and I said "Namaste," which is the Hindi word for hello/goodbye/peace. I like to think of it as their Aloha. It's said most often with your palms together held close to your chest (prayer position) and with a slight bow. He mirrored my "Namaste." I walked away (obviously) wishing I could have done more to help him.

The ultimate contradiction...

The area we live in in Pune seems very much sheltered from the tremendous poverty we see in other areas. Granted, we also see wealthy people but they're much less striking. What's most striking is the huge gap that separates these two parties...not that this is India-exclusive. One could take a similar (but less extreme) photo in New York City. 

We leave for Mumbai tomorrow morning! We'll be spending the weekend there... activities are TBA. 

One Seriously Adventurous Weekend

This weekend, I successfully experienced the life of a celebrity, narrowly escaped death about 19,384,390 times—oh, and I saw some pretty incredible “caves.”

I’ll start at the beginning. Four of us took a bus ride to Aurangabad. When we arrived there, our plan was to first find a hotel. This took us to the other side of the street…where we were nearly accosted by a slew of Indian men telling us that they knew a “nice, clean, new” hotel we could stay at only “one minute away.” Did I mention this was after midnight? From what I’ve gathered that’s pretty late for most parts of India—so I was already on guard (and a bit nervous). I’m a planner and the fact that we had no plans wasn’t exactly helping the uneasiness these eager men invoked. The feeling was universal for three of us so we soon decided to grab a rickshaw and head to another part of town where we knew there was another group of hotels.

Getting a rickshaw was another fiasco. At first, we grabbed a bigger one because it’s difficult enough to fit four people into the back of one—add in four full backpacks and the thing would burst at the seams. A couple of the eager men with “nice clean hotels one minute away” followed us to the street and we trying to explain to the driver where we wanted to go. I’m not sure where the other men came from but somehow we ended up surrounded by at least 10 men all arguing about where we were going and which rickshaw could take us there. At this point, I was pretty scared. Our ratios were not looking good. I think, in the end, I’m just a paranoid traveler and these men were all just trying to be helpful. Eventually we squeezed onto the right rickshaw and made our way to another hotel.

To make a long story short, we stayed at this next hotel. Two more of our group joined us (they had taken a later bus) and we woke early to get in a very full day of sightseeing. And believe me, it was full. We visited the Ellora caves which are about a half hour away (we hired a driver for the day) and then we ventured over to the Ajanta caves which are about two hours further.

This “caves” are really temples built by Hindus or Buddhists honoring their gods. I must say if I were one of these gods, I’d be quite pleased with their workmanship in making these magnificent sanctuaries. To give you an example:

Ode to Buddha!

At the second cave, I was in the process of framing what was to be an excellent photo when an Indian man walked right into the frame and smiled. I didn't really understand what was going on...he then proceeded to grab his wife and they smiled together. By some universal human code of language (he knew no English, I know very little Hindi) I realized he wanted me to take their photo and then see it. So it began. Another group of guys wanted the same done and somehow they love seeing their image on my camera. Then a girl gestured to me that she wanted to take a photo of me. I thought she meant that she wanted to take my photo for me, so I motioned a polite "no thank you." She seemed insistent and I realized that she wanted to take a photo of me so I just smiled and her friend snapped a shot of both of us. Then it began. EVERYONE wanted my photo. I managed to escape and move onwards after ten or so pictures but it started again with the group of us very quickly. Below is a pic I took of celebrity life. I'm not sure why they wanted pictures of us so badly but one of the guys thinks its auspicious for them. Another theory goes that they only see us white people in movies...perhaps that's also true but they were also loving on the Asians in our group. Maybe they're also a rare species in the cities around the caves where I'm guessing these people came from. 

Oh, life on the red carpet.

We also saw MONKEYS! First we saw them on the side of the road and then playing in trees near the caves. It was awesome! I'm not sure what species of monkeys they were but check them out for yourself. 

The cave area was EXTREMELY hot so we were all drenched and exhausted after walking around all day. Another thing that was exhausting was the constant near-encounter with death. Let's just say Indian driving is risky like no other. Our driver never seemed satisfied with the speed of the person in front of us so he was constantly passing (on a two-way road with nearly constant oncoming traffic). Blinkers are unknown on the roads but the horn is a driver's best friend. Even sitting in my room in Pune (which is on a street), you can constantly here beep beep beep beep beep. It's the only language drivers know to communicate with one another. There were also lots of cows meandering the roads, usually being herded in groups of at least four. The cows all have painted horns (usually blue or red), by the way. I can't convey the stress of watching our driver navigate around the other cars, oncoming traffic, cows, and endless potholes but hopefully you understand at least a little. 

Our driver thankfully offered a good price to drive us all the way back to Pune so we made our way. On Indian highways, there's a secret code of contact involving the actual use (shocking I know) of blinkers. I think there's some sort of Morse code with the frequency of blinks signaling that you, as a driver, will hit the car behind you unless they allow space for merging. Of course it sounds incredibly chaotic to us, but I made it home in one piece so seems the system works or we had a huge stroke of luck. 

When we finally got home, I took the most glorious shower and SLEPT in my beautifully comfortable bed. Mmm delicious. 

Out of the office

I'm headed to the very mysterious "caves" this weekend...which I hear aren't really caves but that's how people refer to them. The trip should be four hours each way by bus. I won't have internet access so I'm signing off until Sunday or Monday. Have a great weekend! Hope adventure finds you as well :)