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-Kev & Les

The Smells of Agra

I know you have all been holding your breaths so here it is: FOR ONCE IN MY LIFE I WAS NOT LATE TO MEET MY PARENTS! We actually couldn’t believe it as well. We had scheduled to take a 3-hour train from Jhansi to Agra in order to arrive by 8:30 am and start our guided tour with out parents. (My parents were actually arriving at 8:15 am so we didn’t have much breathing room should the train not be on time.) Technically, we actually didn’t have a ticket on this train. We had tried to book one in Khajaraho, but were only able to get on the waiting list. We had hoped that once we got to the train station we would find out that we had been given a seat, however, we could find anyone at the station who had any clue about our train. Thus, when our train arrived (on time I may add) we just got on figuring we could keep slipping rupees to the conductor until he magically got us a seat. On the train we found the passenger list and low-and-behold we had been assigned a seat! HOWEVER, that didn’t seem to matter to the people who were already in our seat. This is the part of traveling where my little Lester loses some of her patience and steam comes out of her ears. As I am determined to get the conductor and let him resolve the problem, Leslie just plants herself in the seat and doesn’t get up. Well I don’t know if they were just being nice, or if Leslie scared them, but the guy took one look at her and turn to me and said, “It’s OK. No Problem.” and left.

The journey took three hours as promised and we arrived in Agra, right on time. Now I had warned my parents in emails about what to expect when in India. I had told them that the train station are dirty places where people hassle you left and right about anything and everything, so Leslie and I fully expected to be there to comfort my parents after their inevitable culture shock upon arriving in Agra. What we didn’t realize it that Agra is an anomaly when it comes to train stations. It’s actually clean, and well patrolled by tourist police that keep out the touts that hassle you about your hotel, taxis, food, etc. So when my parents arrive they look at us as if we are a bunch of wimps. “This is what you said is going to be so crazy?” To top it off, our own personal driver and greeter meets us in a car nicer than most cars I see driving through the Upper East Side of New York. Our bags are carried for us and the greeter even offers to confirm our continuing train ticket for us while we are ‘touring’ for the day. Leslie and I both look at each other and smile as if to say, “looks like we are now traveling first class!” We spent the entire day in Agra with our personal tour guide in our personal car wanting for nothing! Of course nothing I had warned my parents about was experienced that day. The tour guide did almost everything for us, including ordering for us at the restaurant! In all honesty, as much as it was nice to be catered to and have a break from survival mode, it was definitely NOT my style of traveling. I really missed the bargaining with every rickshaw driver, shoving my way to the front of the lines and combing the streets for the most authentic out-of-the-tourist-path restaurant to dine at. Therefore, it probably not hard to comprehend that out tour guide and I didn’t hit it off so well! As he was trying to convince my dad to hire a car an driver for his entire two weeks in India, I was arguing for the opposite and most likely insulting him by insinuating that ‘tour guide’ travel was sterile and a waste of money. Of course, he said that my style was a waste of time and in the end we would spend more time stuck on busses that seeing things. I told him I liked the busses. He rolled his eyes.

The other reason I dislike guides is when I am on a guided tour I feel like I am the lone spectator an open mic for amateur comedians. Luckily, this guy wasn’t stuffed with a bunch of stale jokes, but instead determined to make the building of the Taj Mahal as over-dramatic as CBS’s promos for the Survivor Finales. In all fairness, at this point I was so bothered by him trying to get my dad to stuff us in a van throughout Rajasthan for the next two weeks, that I probably was a little biased once we actually got to the Taj and he started his monologue.

So here is what everyone wants to know. Is the Taj as amazing as they say? The answer is yes. It truly is an amazing piece of architecture and breathtakingly well preserved. There is truly nothing like it in the world and the artistry and detail are amazing. I especially enjoyed the incredible marble inlay inside the main dome. Now, having said that, did it change my life? (I may be killed for saying this) No. For some reason the Taj didn’t do it for me in the way Angkor Watt did. Maybe it’s because it is much smaller and museum like in the way you tour through it or it could be that it was a rainy day and when everyone had to take of their shoes to enter the main tomb, the smell of wet feet permeated the air (and all my future memories of my visit!) The other very disappoint think about the Taj is how little we got hassled on our way to the entrance.

In every guidebook and everyone you meet, talk about the walk to the entrance of the Taj being the most annoying and in-your-face experience in all of India. One Kiwi (New Zealander) we met in Varkala said that he actually picked up one of the trinket sellers by the throat after being so bothered by his persistence in trying to sell him a mini marble statue of the Taj. So Leslie and I were ready. We had our video camera prepared so that we could document the craziness as well as our iPods that we were going to pump full blast in our ears if things got to be too much and we needed to shut out our surroundings. To our disappointment, there was neither mayhem nor maddening crowds. Sure there were a couple t-shirt sellers trying to pawn t-shirts the thickness of rice paper on us, but nothing compared with the outrageous stories we had heard. I almost bought a 20 rupee “sandalwood” chess set from a guy hoping that maybe that would attract the swam like flies on shit. Maybe it was an off day for the trinket business. Maybe Leslie and I just look like bums with no money. I don’t know. Very disappointing…

We finished our day in Agra in time to catch our over night train to Jodhpur. My parents headed back to Delhi to spend the night and hop a flight to Jodhpur in the morning. (They were still on the first class tour!) We shall meet up tomorrow and start our desert camel trek!!

The Orcha Magic

So, there are only two deadlines we really have while we are here in India. One is two make it back to Dehli in time for our flight home. (so Leslie doesn’t miss school) and the other is to meet my parents on Jan 17th in Johpur for the start of our camel trek that they have treated us to. Of course, my mom knowing Leslie and I all too well is placing bets that we are late (or never make it) to Johdpur to meet them. Determined not to fulfill her prophecy, as well as nervous that she may be correct, we decide to meet them a day earlier than planned in Agra so that we can all visit the Taj Mahal together. We also realize that this will be the only time we can see the Taj on our trip and everyone we know who’s been to India says it does not disappoint.

The trip from Khajaraho to Agra is about 10 hours by combination of bus and train. We decide to break it up into two days so as not to put all our eggs in one basket with India public transportation. We figure with two days, if all else fails we will hire a private driver to drive us the entire way. The logical stop along the way is a city called Jhansi which is three hours from Agra. However, after digging though the lonely planet book a bit we find a more intriguing place called Orcha, which supposedly houses a palace that you can actually shack up in for a night. The town sounds quaint and we hop on the bus for the 6 hour trip to Orcha.

I am generally not a bus person. I hate being stuck in a seat for any length of time and I get carsick really easily. However, there is something about Indian buses that is endearing to me. I actually get disappointed when the bus driver doesn’t blare the loud Indian music for the entire trip. And for some reason the people I meet on the bus seem to be some of the nicest I have met throughout India. (That is, of course, after they elbow you out of their way to steal the last remaining seats.) Also, bus stations, although still full of forms and lines are much less bureaucratic than train stations. The bus ride to Orcha does not disappoint. We travel through some of the most beautiful countryside we have seen thus far. Large mustard fields stretch out in front of us, illuminated by the morning sun. It is a site to see and one which we can’t seem to do any justice with our multiple digital photography attempts. I also meet a wonderful young Indian lad on the bus who at every stop purchases a new and different Indian snack for me to try.

The bus lets us off on the side of the road where we then have to catch a rickshaw to town (about 45 min.) To make more money the driver stuffs in about 30 people in this little ‘buggy’ about the size of a VW Bug and I spend the next 45 min staring at my backpack which is on my lap pressed into my face in order to make room for the twelve other passengers that the driver is sure he can squeeze on. We tell the driver to take us to the palace, deciding that we deserve a little royalty at this point in our trip. However, upon arriving at the palace, we discover that a) the rooms are more expensive that we thought and b) they don’t take credit cards. With only about $20 in our pockets and no ATM we head to town center to find another option. On the way we run into a New York couple that we met in Khajaraho and they point us to a place where they are staying. As always fate seems to work out better than our planning, as we discover that not only does this cute little guest house have the perfect location in this charming little town, but it also costs a whopping $5 per night! Right in our budget!

We only had one day in Orcha, but it was truly the unexpected surprise of our entire trip. The town has a relaxed mellow feel to it that can often be hard to find in most of India. In addition it has about 5 ruins of old palaces that you can walk through. Although they are not very well preserved, it is not hard to envision what this area must have been like when these palaces were thriving cities. The magic and mystery of this era in history continues to excite my imagination as it seems like such a romantic time to be alive (as well at extremely brutal in other respects, especially if you we not among the elite!) One of the palaces it totally open to adventure and one can climb up and around the entire thing. Although this ‘openness’ has allowed for a bunch of graffiti and trash to accumulate, It also was by far the most fun to explore! There are secret staircases throughout the palace and the challenge is to find the right one which leads to the roof and an incredible view of the countryside. Of course, there is always some young Indian boy who is willing to take your money in exchange for the ‘secret tour’, but we preferred to find our own way up. The search was worth is and, as promised, the view was wonderful. We actually attempted to get to the very top of the highest spire, but after encounter the family of bats and their accompanying smell we decided that we didn’t need a case of rabies to interrupt our vacation.

We only spent one night in Orcha and in fact, had to leave at 4am the next morning to catch a rickshaw to Jansi (and then a train to Agra), however, when we head back to India Orcha will definitely be on our list for a longer visit. If you are anywhere near there and need a break from the craziness, Orcha is your spot!

Trains, Taxis and Sex Temples

There is truly nothing like spending the night in an India train station. Of course, looking back on it, it was "exciting" and "fascinating" and "adventurous", however, at the time...IT SUCKED. We arrived at the train station full of vigor and optimism, after having an amazing time along the waters of the Ganges. We had planned our travel perfectly to save money by taking an overnight train to Satna and then hopping a 5 hour bus to Khajaraho (the Erotic Temples). In a perfect world we would arrive at about noon in Khajaraho and then have three full days to explore the temples before we needed to head north to meet my parents in Agra. Of course, we had no such luck.

At the train station we were informed that our train would be 90 minutes late. No problem...to be expected...trains are always late. We planted ourself down on the platform floor and waited. I decided to have Leslie watch my bags as I headed back into the station to confirm the time and platform number...bad idea. Within 2 minutes of being gone, four guys surrounded Leslie (as she sat guarding both our bags) and starting making lewd faces at her and kicking our bags as if to indicate they were about to run off with them. No one around the station watching this did anything to help her! In any other circumstance Leslie would have grabbed her bag and walked away, however, because she was also guarding my bag, she couldn't possibly carry both. Luckily, I arrived back on the platform before they grabbed the bags. I stood there trying to look as mean as I could (putting on my mean Amir Khan face) until they left. Not a great way to start the night in the station. From that point on we practically chained our bags to our bodies and gave anyone that looked at us a evil stare!

With this lovely demeanor, we waited, and waited, and waited, and waited for our train to arrive. Every two hours at just about the time our train was "scheduled" to appear, there would be another anouncement stating that the train was another 2 hours late. This continued until about 8am (almost 9 hours late) when to our surprise, our train actually arrived! During the night we met two Swiss girls who were going the same direction as us and coincidentally were booked in the same sleeper compartment. We boarded the train and slept for the entire 7 hours. Since we had already missed the bus, we decided that the four of us would try to rent a car & driver to take us from Satna to Khajaraho. We got off the train and immediately had 10 screaming drivers vying for our business. We negiociated a little, chose a driver and were off to the Sex Temples!

By this point in our trip we have discovered that there is a hierarchy to the different vehicles on an India roadway. At the top is the "Goods Carrier", which is basically a truck that is incredibly overloaded with anything and everything you could possible imagine. It is clear by the way these guys drive that they are the Kings of the Road. They never slow down or move to avoid anything. Of course, as a courtesy they will honk at you so that you know that they are about to hit you! Next in line are the buses, of which there are many and they are usually blaring crazy Indian music that sounds like "The Chipmunk's Play Sitar - Hindu Favorites Sung By Rodents". Next in line are the taxis. There cars look like they stepped right out of the late 1940's and because they are small and can weave around traffic, they charge full speed ahead weaving around the trucks and buses without hesitation. The remainder of the food chain consists of auto-rickshaws (golfcart-like motorcyles), cycle-rickshaws (power by a bike), bicycles and lastly PEDESTRIANS in that order. The lower you are in the food chain, the more it is YOUR RESPONSIBILITY to avoid those above you. In a collective decision among us four westerners, deciding would like to arrive in Khajaraho ALIVE, we thought it would be a good idea to offer our driver FREE CHAI in exchange for driving safely...bad idea. Once the driver heard the word FREE, he decided that every 10 minutes of driving should be rewarded with a chai break. By the 15th stop, we didn't even bother getting out of the car and instead just handed the driver rs 5 and told him to be back soon. Our 4 hour drive quickly turned to 6 hours. AND the gesture didn't even help his driving! In probably the most frightening experience of our trip, our driver speeding through a village road, swerved to BARELY miss a young boy who had run across the street without looking. It was truly the boy's fault for not looking before he ran, but a little speed control by out driver could have avoided the whole incident without the terrifying near miss.

To make matters worse, hot on our tails was a group of 12 Koreans that we had seen in the train station. Apparently, they were headed in the same direction as us and had rented three indentical taxis which followed close behind us. It was our goal to beat them to Khajaraho so that we would have a better pick of hotel rooms since we were getting in later than expected because of our chai delays. Luckily for us, the Koreans stopped everytime we did and instead of waiting in the car, they all got out, drank chai and took 20 pictures each of god knows what.

To our delight we arrived in time to score a nice room and head off to a great dinner in a treehouse over looking the Western Temples. The next morning we had our usually Indian breakfast of Uttappam and a Dosai and spent the day exploring the Erotic Temples of Khajaraho. It's really hard to explain these temples as they are really something to be seen and not described. You can think of it as ancient porn. The sculptures are about as graphic as it gets with everything from acrobatic positions to animal intimacy. There are various therioes as to "why all the sex" but no real conscensious that we could discern. Instead, what is most surprising to us was that these temples are in India. On the outside by American/European standards, India appears to be an incredibly sexually repressed country. Marriages are almost all arranged and genders are kept separate at functions such as weddings. Public displays of affection (such as holding hands or kissing) are very rare and you are more likely to see two guys arm-in-arm walking down the street than a man and a woman "hanging out" in public, even among married couples.

Alas, this is the paradox of India. The same cultural history that upholds these restrictive customs, is also the creator of the Kama Sutra. In a way, this is what makes India so magical. Nothing is what it appears to be on the surface nor can it easily be stuffed into categories or definitions. With our "logical" little western minds, we stuggle to understand and accept these paradoxes, while they make perfect sense to the typical Indian. Before we left, a good friend of ours gave us advice on traveling to India. "Throw logic out the window", she said. I can't agree more and I would add to that my advice to "spend less time thinking and more time laughing." Things just somehow work here. I don't know how or why, but they do. I really hope westernization doesn't change the "logic" of India too much. We need a place in the world where we can throw "rationale" out the window and celebrate the bizarre as commonplace.

We loved Khajaraho and spent our second day on rented bikes riding around the surrounding country-side through beautiful msutard fields and meeting an array of random locals along the way. We laughed a lot. On our last night we decided that we were going to try an experiment and go into every single shop that someone tried to lure us into to look at their merchandise. We went one by one following every shopkeeper into their store and let them show us all their best wares for about 20 minutes. Surprisingly, we didn't get suckered into buying too much, and made all the shoppkeepers happy. Generally, these guys stand around all day competing for the tourist business. Since they all sell the same thing (and there are what seems like hundreds of shops), many of them don't get any customers all day. The fact that we took them time to listen to them and look at some of there stuff was enough to make many of them happy and thank us as we walked out the door without buying a thing! It was a fun little experiment in surrender...although utimately almost just as exhausting as avoiding these guys all day!

Off to the Taj,

Kevin & Leslie

Finding Insanity on the Ganges...

The fortune teller was only half right...we would eventually lose our minds...but much before forty! In fact, all it took was one overnight train ride for us to end up in the craziest place we have been to thus far in India...In fact, probably the craziest place we have been to in the world!

Varanasi, is described as one of the holiest places in India, however, don't let that fool you. There is very little peace and quiet in this crazy town! Situated along the Ganges, it is a spot where anything can happen. Arriving late on our first night there we were forced to take a mosquito infested room along the southern part of the city. We immediately got up the next morning and walked along the river looking for a better place. As you walk up the river there is Ghat (stairs) after Ghat leading into the river. Each Ghat seems to have it's own character AND cast of charaters that hang out there. There are MANY annoying little kids that will try to sell you anything they can. Usually, it is some faded postcard or flower bowl (to float in the river) that you would really only buy because you feel sorry for the kid. In addition to them there are hundreds (if not thousands) of boatmen trying to get you to go for a boat ride. In addition them there are dogs, cows, buffalo, goats, birds & monkeys all hanging out along the river as well. To top it off, at some of the ghats, there are indians building large fires and burning dead people as it is a very auspicious place to die and be cremated. Thus, a typical afternoon walk include sights, sounds and smells, like you cannot describe. In our heads every night we would dream the sounds of Varanasi...."boat madam...flowers 5 rupees...postacards, free to look...where are you from sir...very nice country...halo, i'd like to practice my english...i don't sell you anything...would like a shave...please come to my silk shop...massage very good, only 10 rupees...i give you very cheep...moo moo...bahh...boat madam?...etc...etc..etc..."

As crazy as this all sounds, this is our favorite place in India thus far. There is an energy to the city that is unmatched and with every corner you turn there is something else totally out-of-this-world going on. The Old Town is straight out of a movie set with narrow winding streets, barely two people wide, that somehow accomodate the cows, motorbikes, large carts of food, crowds of pilgrams and everything else that tries to navigate the maze of streets. Many shops are simply a little nook in the wall, just large enough for someone to sit with a stove, or sewing machine or scale to weigh the food they are selling. Then there are the little "shave/barber shops" where for rs 10 (25 cents) I got the closest shave I have ever had. Also with every corner you turn there is some EXTREMELY friendly Indian who is just dying to show you his silk shop! If you agree, he will take you into a small room, serve you chai and layout about 100 large pieces of fabric in front of you trying to get you to buy a shirt or scarf... At first it is nice to get the free chai, but after the 10th time it get's a little old trying to explain to them that you don't really need anymore silk. They are master salesman and have an answer for everything. At night there are ceremonies along the water with great music. We stayed in a wonderful room overlooking the Ganges and woke up to the sunrise through our window and the sounds of all the Indians come to bathe at the Ghat.

Some of our favorite Varanasi memories are...

1) One afternoon, we decided to take a boat to get to one of the ghats that we wanted to visit. There was an older boatman with large glasses outside our guesthouse who looked so sweet and we decided to give him the job. Unfortunately, we realized that the large glasses were of no help to him as he seemed almost blind trying to navigate his boat along the river. Often the other boats would scream at him as he would almost crash the boat into theirs. Children would be crying as he would catch their kites in his oars. Oblivious to all this he just kept rowing at a snails pace...actually much slower that a snails pace! Along this 3 hour voyage (which should have taken 10 minutes!) we saw this young Indian man jump in the river, scoop up some water and take a drink of this holy river...then less than 10 yards away we spotted a young Indian girl leaning over the railing with her butt sticking out over the Ganges, giggling as little rabbit-like turds fell from her butt into the river...we decided not to go for a swim on this trip...

2) Another afternoon as we were passing by the Main Ghat, a old man approached us offering his hand, "halo". I went to shake his hand and he grabbed mine and started massaging it...next thing in know I am on a mat on the ground and three guys are giving me a full body massage..."how nice!" I thought...The entire time they said "you pay us what you want"...Of course when it was all over, they looked disappointed when all I paid them was rs 100. I explained to them that generally it is not a good idea to grab people and throw them on the ground without negociating a price first. They half-heartedly smiled to me as I walked away...needless to say I never shook anyone's hand again at the Main Ghat.

3) Scams are all over Varanasi, and after a while you expect them and can spot them a mile away. However, the smoothest one we encountered was this guy named Raj. He approached us one day as we were walking and started talking to us. He spoke very good english and was very charming. As we got more comfortable with him he offered to take us to some out of the way spots to show us some cool things in the city. He actually showed us some things we would have never found, however, after two days of this "innocent tour guide" thing he went in for the kill. Slying suggesting that we see this very old silk bedspread, he dragged us into a silk "factory" where some guy layed out a stack of silk bedspreads in front of us and tried to get us to give him our credit card to buy one or more of them. Of course, we had no interest in buying anything and tried to explain this to the man, who seemed very frustrated. We finally said that we would talk it over and come back if we were interested. As we left, we saw that our dear friend Raj was not so excited to hang out with us. Within 10 minutes, he excused himself and off he went. Later that night some friends/competition of Raj approached us in the Old City and asked if Raj had been successful in getting us to buy silks. We said no and they looked pleased. Sorry Raj! But thanks for the free tour!

As we left Raj and entered the Main Ghat craziness, this man approached us from behind and said, "Sir, would you like to see my shit shop?"...at first I thought he said "silk shop" and I felt the frustration come over me, but then as he continues we just started to laugh and laugh..."really I have the nicest shit shop in all of Varanasi. We sell all kinds of shit...cow shit, horse shit, monkey shit, bull shit...we have shit shirts, shit scarfs, shit postcards...everything is shit...why don't you want to buy my shit?" as we laugh and kept walking he paused and said, "you don't want to come to my shop? Ahh shit!". His timing could not have been more perfect and we looked for him later that day, but could never find him again. It was like he existed just for that moment to make us laugh and forget our frustration. Ah, maybe that is the magic of Varanasi!

So much to tell about Varanasi, including sleeping in the train station overnight waiting for our train to Khajuraho...delayed by 12 hours! We are tired of typing those so the rest of the stories will have to wait to be told over a glass of wine in NYC.

Off to the erotic temples. We miss you all.

Love, Kevin & Leslie

PS: We will let you know all about the sex temples of Khajuraho next time. We travel then to Orcha and Agra. To our delight, my (Kevin's) parents at the last minute decided to change their travel plans of going to Peru to join us in India for a camel trek. We are going to hope to connect with them in Agra to see the Taj Mahal and then head to Jodhpur for the camel trek. Sure to be some great stories to come...

Finding God on the Ganges...

We are now hanging out along the holiest river in India, the Ganges. People come from all over to bathe in this river as is a very spiritual place for most Indians. Of course, they also wash their clothes, their pots and pans, their animals, AND piss, spit & shit in the river. None of this is shocking until you see someone down river scooping up the water in their hands and taking a big gulp!

In Rishikesh, which was our first stop along the Ganges, the river is actually very clear. The area itself is full of yoga centers and Ashrams and we met many people (westerners) that either lived there or had been there living in the Ashrams for at least 6 months. We stayed in a nice place up in the hills that over looked the valley. It was very quiet and nice. Each morning we would walk to the town and have breakfast at a place called the Madras Cafe. We would order 1 pot chai, 1 masala dosa (spicy Indian crepe), and one Veg Upattam (rice pancake). We would then head up and hear one of the Gurus talk for about an hour. He was actually french canadian, but you couldn't tell by looking at him. He had the requisite orange robe and shaved head and was wonderful to hear speak. He had a very soothing voice which alone was worth hearing. He spoke about losing the ego, finding peace, searching for your inner happiness...nice stuff. After the talk we sat on the ghat (steps that lead to the river) and watched the people bathe in the river. However, even more intriguing to us were the monkeys and Leslie was on a personal mission to photo-record every single monkey in the entire town. At first the monkeys seem harmless, but on further examination you actually realize that they are anything but. One attacked me on the bridge and ripped my shirt, while others stole any bit of food that you did not have packed away inside your pack. They had no problem just grabbing the food right from your hand.

Leslie's favorite spot in Rishikesh was a small coffee shop on the hill that served the best pizza in India. Of course, my favorite were the cookie vendors who in the mid-day made the most incredible butter cookies served up warm for only rs. 10 (25 cents) per bag. On our last day in Rishikesh, we ran into a palm reader and decider to hear about our past, present and future. According to this experts opinion, we have very good palms and good things are in our future. However, he did say that we both think too much. However, the good news is that once we turn forty..."no more thinking..." Maybe that mean we are going to lose our minds by then...who knows??

Namaste,

Kevin & Leslie

Sunsets in Varkala...

On the advice of an American/Indian girl we met (from Tampa) we decided to head down to Varkala (near the southern tip of India) for a couple days of R & R on the beach. Having completely lost faith in the train system we headed straight for the bus depot. We fought our way on the bus and prepared to suffer through the 4 hour ride like true traveling pros. Of course, there was no stop near where we wanted to go so we told the bus 'conductor' to let us know where to get off (at the closest place). We got off in Kollam and negociated for a rickshaw to drive us 24km to the beach...what seemed like three hours later we stumbled into the beach town of Varkala. We have learned at this point to always tell the drivers to drop you at a restaurant instead of a guesthouse. Otherwise, they try to get you to go to their friends guesthouse/hotel, where they are sure to recieve a commission. They will go to any length to get you to their preferred hotel, even to the point of telling you that your hotel just burned down! Thus, we had the driver drop us at a restaurant called the Sunset Cafe...we couldn't have had it any better...the open-air restaurant sat right on the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean. In front of the restaurant were the fresh catches of the day (Swordfish, Tuna, Kingfish, Prawns, Red Snapper...) and for a whopping $3 they would cook the fish for you in any style you requested. We generally choose to have the fish wrapped in a banana leaf with Indian masala spices and grilled. The taste was amazing!!

While Leslie sat at the restaurant, I headed to a place we had heard of called the Red House. To our good fortune, they had had a 'no-show' that day and had a room available for us!! "Things are looking up!" We finished our dinner at Sunset, headed back to the Red House and found a group of Europeans chatting over some chai and homemade cheesecake. Of course we joined them and sat up talking for 3 hours exchanging travel war stories and making fun of each other's accents and countries. This was daily routine in Varkala. With each day we would have the best coffee in India (made by the Red House proprietor, Patrice, a wonderful Kiwi who was now living in India), some chocolate banana crepes, head to the beach for a couple hours of tanning & swimming, read Siddartha, head up the cliffside restaraunts for more eating, talking and drinking, sleep and repeat... We really could have stayed here for the entire 6 weeks and with each day it got more and more relaxing. We actually entertained the idea of renting the whole Red House out and inviting all our family and friends for a beach vacation. (Who knows... 2006???) We met some wonderful people here and had we no disipline could have easily been convinced to scap our whole trip and lay on the beach. In fact, when we told them all that we were heading to Northern India they all laugh for about 20 minutes and then proceeded to tell us all their horror stories from traveling North!

However, being the fearless travelers we are, these stories were not going to deter us, in fact they made the challenge that much more exciting! After 3 days we booked a ticket north and headed to the airport...It is worthy to note that one of the most exciting times in our trip to Varkala, was at the sucessful booking of our first train ticket. I am not sure if I have explained before, but Indians have no respect for lines (or ques as they are called). Usually upon arriving at a train station there are a mob of people at the ticket window all shoving their hands into the small opening in the window. Of course, initially, I would stand in line very patiently waiting my turn only to have someone shove their way right in front of me and get their ticket. To make matters worse, you have to fill out a form that resembles and resume, just to book one ticket. They want to know your address, phone number, your last job, how you like your tea, how many relatives you have, where you went to summer camp...all just to book a train ticket. AND if there is even one small mistake on the form, they throw it back at you without expaining why. Well, to be fair, they probably do explain why, but to me it sounds more like a grunt than an explanation. ANYWAY...in Varkala, I was prepared. I elbowed my way to the front, grunted and made throat clearing noises, looked very serious and mean and low and behold..WE GOT A TICKET!!! I think I can now speak the language fluently!

We left Varakala feeling very relaxed and a little sunburn...we actually coughed it up for a flight since we decided the 3 day train ride would not be the way to spend our time in India. We are heading up to Rishikesh (north of Dehli) on the overnight train, where we hear there are a bunch of Ashrams and Yoga centers...Who knows maybe we will shave our head and find a Guru. Rishikesh is where the Beatles met their Guru...it could happen to us, right?

Very relaxed,

Kevin & Leslie