INDIA - Part Two: Darth Elephant

Something that I had bragged about the day before was the fact that the digital watch that I wear is one that I’ve had since middle school, I think. I’ve had one or two watches come in and replace it, and this has outlasted them. I was telling my friend this at the Taj Mahal because her watch died a few days prior and I showed off how well mine was ticking along.

That said, it surprised me the next morning to wake and find that my watch was as dead as a doornail. If I was someone who didn’t always need to know the time, this wouldn’t be as bad. If I wasn’t on a trip where they dropped us off at odd locations and told us a specific time to meet back at the buses, it wouldn’t be as bad. Unfortunately for me, both of these facts were true, and I needed a substitute, albeit hopefully temporary, on the spot.

Always one to have a quick solution, I figured that I brought my travel alarm clock with me, which is the size of an oversized pocketwatch, at least three inches in diameter, and I could use that through the day. Normally when I want to know the time, I look at my wrist, now I would have to pull a giant black disc out of my pocket. If the Indians didn’t already think that us Americans were crazy, this was about to set the bar at a new height.

On top of all my troubles, I was up at 6:15 to start our fun-filled day in Jaipur. After a lovely (and by lovely, I mean disappointing) breakfast, we drove a few minutes to the Palace of the Winds, a Race 1, Leg 8 location (if you don’t know what that means, just keep going.) I thought that the Palace of the Winds would be more prominent than it was. It’s literally just in the middle of a block. It’s like some theaters in New York City, you could walk right by and not even know that it was a theater. You could walk by this place, on the same side of the street that it’s on, and not notice it.

It’s a wonderfully impressive structure, but it’s really only just a façade. They say that as the royal parades went through some women had to watch through the small windows there. I think that’s accurate, but there could be some more to it than what I just elaborated on. It’s one of those places that’s really cool to visit and look at, take a photo of yourself in front of, and move on.

Actually, the coolest part of the Palace of the Winds was what was across the street, right near where a bunch of us were taking photos. There are things that I expected to see in India because they’re know to exist, and there are others that I didn’t really expect to see because they’re more fable than having real substance and existence. I was gladly surprised to find something that I never thought I’d see in India: snake charmers. It was the whole nine yards, from the men in the turbans with the flutes, to the snakes rising straight out of their basket to stand straight up and intermittently trying to strike the flute. It really was everything you could ever hope for in a snake charmer. In actuality, it really was everything you could have hoped for, and more, in something that I didn’t think actually existed. You never know what you’re going to find.

The next destination on our whirlwind tour was the Amber Fort. I’d like to let this be a lesson to anyone going on Semester at Sea in the future: never go on a S@S trip if there’s really only one thing you want to see or do and are looking forward to, because there’s no guarantee that it’s going to be there. Let’s give context to this warning/advice.

Our trip has always been advertised as having a stop at the Amber Fort, where we would ride elephants to the top. How cool does that sound? There were people who signed up for our trip just to ride an elephant to the top of the fort. Needless to say, they were crushed when we were told that we wouldn’t be going up on the back of an elephant, and were instead taking 4x4 jeeps up the back route.

But this is where the story gets interesting. The first story that our guides told us was that because of a religious festival, the elephants would not be operating because there would be so many people at the fort and the people with the elephants were concerned about a stampede. That’s why we were confused when we pulled up to the jeeps, sitting in full view of the fort, and saw people on the backs of elephants ascending to the top of the fort. This is when we knew that something was awry, but nobody opened their mouth and said anything. We didn’t know if that was a good idea or not.

So they put four of us into each jeep and then we proceed in a procession through the small town and backroads up to the ‘secret’ back entrance of the Amber Fort. Our guides told us that we wouldn’t have to pay anything anywhere, which is why we were confused again when all the jeeps were stopped and our driver pointed to the sign telling us to pay an entrance fee for the jeep. Nobody in my jeep argued because by now it’s evident that India’s a wacky place and it’s just better to go along with the flow than try to upset the apple cart.

I can picture in some films, the exciting journey through dense jungle and unchartered territory that the jeeps always drive through. We didn’t do that, we literally drove up the back way in jeeps. My suspicions of our tour guides were heightened when our jeep driver told us that we had to come back to him. We didn’t want to because the plastic windows were dirty and we couldn’t see anything out of them. But, what I thought was that these jeep guys must not be making a whole lot of money if everyone wants to take the elephants up to the fort. So my assumption, and you know what happens when you assume, is that our tour guides were paid a commission by the jeep people so that they could get our business. Who knows if it’s true (I’m sure it is) but it makes sense. In every other country, they always take us to places where the guides can pick up a commission, and this is the first one of our trip as far as I know. If not, they’re doing an even sneakier operation than I can see.

The Amber Fort is a very cool place for a couple of reasons, all of which exist in the modern. I’m not classifying this next sentence as cool, just FYI. What the palace would have is literally hundreds of rooms in this maze of a fort, and when the sultan, or anyone in charge would like some loving for the evening, he would just have to pick a room, as each one had a different lady in it. It’s a bit perverse and it’s a thought that you can’t force out of your head as you walk around the place, but resultantly the architecture and layout is something that I think is cool, not necessarily the intended purpose. Let’s make that clear.

Okay, moving swiftly onward, my airplane and bus buddy Shantel and I decided to go off into the Amber Fort, and see what happens when we have to meet back in an hour and a half. I had to keep track of time on my comically large pocketwatch. I felt like a conductor, because I think they’re the only ones that still carry those around daily.

And I have to say, getting lost in the inner passageways of the Amber Fort was one of the most fun things that I did during my entire stay in India. Here’s the basic layout: there’s a courtyard, and a handful of hallways leading away from it. A few lead to another courtyard, but most lead to other passages or other weird, bizarre sections of the fort where you have to look around and say, okay which hallway do we take now? And you go from there. There were a few points when we had absolutely no idea where we were and how we got where we were, but it was great. One of the best parts s when you’re walking in one hallway and can look above you twenty feet and see people walking above you, and you yell up how they got there, and then you try to figure out how to get up there, and you never make it, but it’s not always where you’re going, but what happens along the way.

After our time had elapsed, we had to take the jeeps back down again, even though the line for the elephants was really short from the fort. I’ve stopped trying to figure out our wacky Indian tour guides. We figured that we would just get into any jeep because the chances of our same jeep driver finding us were slim and none. No sooner did we come to the jeeps did the guy come running over to point in his jeep. I wasn’t going to get back in a jeep without a view. So, in the midst of everyone trying to find a jeep, I grabbed Shantel and we went into another jeep telling the other driver, “They told us we could get in any jeep.” It wasn’t like I was depriving the guy, it was the same number of jeeps waiting for us, and he was going to take a group down regardless, but he should really think about installing some see-through plastic windows.

After the fort, we were told that we were being taken to a market. I was okay with that because I figured that Indian markets should be very interesting and I should be able to find something there to pique my interest. The market wasn’t exactly what we expected.

These tour operators get commissions from some of the places they take us to, generally places that sell stuff, and will cut down time from other places so that they pad their back pocket some more. That’s the reasoning for why I think we didn’t do elephants as well, it takes longer, and would leave less time for us to shop at this “market.”

While we’re on the topic, let’s talk about this “market.” First, it wasn’t a market. Secondly, it was two expensive, higher-end stores. And thirdly is explained in the forthcoming. They dropped us off at who knows where, and they took us to a demonstration of how printed fabrics are made with stamps. It’s interesting because they have five or six stamps for each design, and each stamp is for one color and the part of the stamp that sticks out is only the part for that specific color, so by pressing the stamps down in the same spot, you get a multi-colored image. Then they soak it in some ‘magic potion’ (I think it was witchcraft) which makes the colors change to what they should be. For us it made the elephant change from fuchsia to a grayish hue. Where’s David Copperfield when you need him? (The illusionist, not the Dickens’ work, although the book would have helped pass the time in the upcoming segments.)

After that thrilling magic trick, they took us over to show us how they make their world-famous rugs and carpets. Acutally, they didn’t show us how to make rugs and carpets. It was one or the other, and I’m just not sure which one it was. Anyway, they show us these day laborers making next to nothing to weave this fabric in and out of a loom by hand, while their boss narrates to us in a pressed suit, without jacket and tie.

Then they show us how they blowtorch the back of it for some useful purpose that was unbeknownst to me, and they how they wash it off. When they broke out the hose to spray the carpet/rug, I moved away. I don’t want any of that Indian water coming at me, especially the stuff coming out of the hose at the carpet/rug emporium. You know that’s not a Home Depot hook-up.

After half the group got a light, misty shower, they took us inside their showroom, which is floor to ceiling in carpets/rugs. Here’s how you know they really want you to buy stuff – when they bring out the free (yes, completely complementary) soda beverage cart, so that we can whet our whistle before they want us to start whipping out the money. Then I felt like I was on Price is Right. They had guys that would come out in a line, stand in formation and then overdramatically unfurl the carpet/rug for us to view, and then waved the carpet/rug like it was a flag, heirloom, or like someone farted. It was bizarre and I’m so glad that I have a short video of it. Please remind me to show that one to you. It’s one of the good ones.

I would have been interested in purchasing a carpet/rug if the price was lower. The smallest carpet/rug was 3’ x 5’ and was over US$100. I’m not paying that much for a doormat. Some carpet/rugs were more then 10’ in size one way, and people who showed interest would have the salesmen bring them out carpet/rug after carpet/rug and would look at it and show mild interest, and that just wasn’t worth my time. I have better things to be doing in India than watch someone pain over the purchase of an oversized doormat that supports cheap manual labor.

The other shop that was adjacent to Muammar’s House o’ Carpets/Rugs, was a silk shop. Imagine that. I’ll tell you, as much as Americans like silk, the rest of the world holds it on a much higher pedestal. It was overpriced as well, but if you looked hard enough, there were a few items that you could get at a lower price.

For some reason, I asked to see table runners. Don’t ask me why I asked to see table runners, but I did. Maybe it’s because we actually have a dining room in the house now where such a runner could be put to good use. The price was higher than I would have liked, and the guy did one of those looks and head nods where he gives me a lower price because I’m ‘his friend.’ Then I agree, and he waves me to the register while holding a finger to his lips like I shouldn’t tell his boss how much he sold me the runner for. Let’s put it this way, if he was selling the runner at a lower price where his profit was drastically cut, he’s not moseying on over to the register. Sometimes, you do what you can and you just go along with the flow.

I’m a relatively quick shopper, so I was one of the first ones done and I joined the group that had already decided that it wasn’t worth their time to spend any money or time at either of these places. Why we stayed at these two overpriced places for over an hour and a half can be attributed to two things. The first is the aforementioned the tour guides are making, and the second is the idiocy of some of the people on our trip. If they either decided they weren’t going to make a purchase, or decided on a purchase in less than 45 minutes, we would have been out of there much quicker, and we’d have more time for the remainder of our day. I even grabbed a second soda. Some people bought two carpet/rugs that combined for a retail value of over US$1000. Anyone who has the kind of money where they can throw it around on rugs that may be carpets, or carpets that may be rugs for that matter, has too much money and needs the money and trees lecture a few more times.

After what seemed like an eternity, the guides took us outside the place and showed us the hidden spot where they parked the buses. Yes, that’s right, they wouldn’t let us go to the buses because the longer we stay at the stores, the higher likelihood we have of buying more stuff we don’t need. Then they drove us to lunch at (and this is true) the Holiday Inn. We were all a little confused at this decision. While true that food is really the first enemy in my fight against illness, I still fail to put logic to the thought behind taking us to the Holiday Inn as opposed to, say, something like a real restaurant. It almost seems like it’s done either because there aren’t that many good restaurants in Jaipur, or there was an incident in the past somewhere along the way, and this is the resultant decision. Any way you slice it, we were eating in the Holiday Inn whether we liked it or not.

As I remember reading somewhere, all Holiday Inns have restaurants in them – except in India. We were led into the banquet hall, or so that’s what it seemed like, and they set up a buffet row that they brought out from the kitchen in the back. I’ve only been in India a few days, and these buffet things are getting tired already, because there’s really only one thing that I eat the entire time I’m in these buffet things, and it’s usually the only thing that resembles food. It’s never the same thing, and that’s why I’m convinced that down the road I’m going to get a meal where I can’t find anything that I’ll be able to force down my esophagus. I think I’ve come to the conclusion, as if I haven’t already, that I’m just not made for Indian food. Of take it or leave it, I’d rather do the latter.

As the afternoon progressed, our tour guides must have gotten happier and happier because their commissions kept rolling right on in. Why they took us to a jewelry store next boggles my mind. They tried to pass it off by saying that Jaipur is known for its gems. I’ve never heard that before in my life. I’m not entirely convinced that it’s a lie, but there’s a reason why Jaipur is called the pink city and not the gem city, and that’s because our tour guides wanted to make some extra cash.

We walked into this jewelry store, and when I say this place was immaculate, it was stunning. And, they served us free sodas here, too. A dead giveaway as to what we’re supposed to do here. They guides had hinted to us that we would get to see how they carve, shine, and set the stones, but that wasn’t exactly true. I’ll get to that in a minute. I walked through the two floors of the jewelry store and realized that most tour groups that these guys have taken fall into the wealthy and retired tier of people, which is the opposite of most of us on the trip. There were some professors on the trip that they paid more attention to, and a few of the students that were loaded, but for the most part, they left us alone, especially the girls until they expressed a lot of interest. I think there are some cultural differences in that realm.

After I got tired and annoyed of standing around in the jewelry store, I went outside with a few other people and across the alleyway was where the stones were being shaped and polished, by six or seven people who make less than a dollar a week. The disparity between them and what was across the street is beyond appalling, but that’s how stuff happens in India. It’s the way the system works and if they think it’s working for them, it’s not going to change.

After some pockets were sufficiently exhausted, it was time to move on to the City Palace, where the Maharajah of Jaipur lives. What’s interesting about the Maharajah is that he’s the last one of Jaipur. He didn’t have any sons and in India now, once a Maharajah line ends, no new one comes in because the government is different now than it was hundreds of years ago.

The City Palace was a splitting point for about half the group. Half the group was convinced we were either going to another store or a really boring museum-type location and wanted to go off on their own for the rest of the afternoon and go shopping. I decided to stick with the group because the City Palace looked very interesting, and we’d have time to go shopping later in the afternoon as it was. As it would turn out, I made a good decision, but it would take a little while to realize that.

Our tour guides led us around a little bit and then dropped us off in a gallery of lots of stuff from the older Maharajahs. We walked around by ourselves, not really knowing what anything was, as the group slowly lost interest and dissolved away as time went on. Eventually, a bunch of us walked up to our tour guide and asked questions about the stuff in the room, and then about six or seven of us went on a tour of the room and actually learned interesting stuff. It was great. The small group feeling was what’s been missing for the rest of the trip.

The room had an assortment of miscellaneous items that come together to make little overall sense. There are carpet/rugs and paintings on the walls and there were palanquins in the middle with Buddhist drawings nearby and other treasures of the Maharajah protected by glass cases.

After that place, our tour guide asked us if we wanted to see the astronomy park. I said yes quite quickly because ‘astronomy park’ just sounds fun, and the rest of the group, having been interested in what we learning from the guide figured that it would continue at the astronomy park, and it did.

Prince Maharajah Jai Singh was an avid astronomer, and he built a giant park with all sorts of odd astronomic stuff in it. There’s three sundials that increase in size and accuracy, to be within a few seconds of the true time. They’re quite impressive. Because we only had a limited amount of time at the park, our guide didn’t get a chance to tell us about all the funny looking structures, but it really was quite interesting and fun to see.

Once we got back to the bus, they gave us an option of whether we wanted to go back to the hotel or be dropped off in the traditional shopping district. There are two kinds of shopping in Jaipur, the touristy areas, or the places where the locals go to shop, which are the traditional spots. My group and I decided to hop off at the traditional spot, and then grab a tuk-tuk back to the hotel when we decided it was time to go back. A tuk-tuk is the Indian version of a taxi. In preport they told us that they were called motor rickshaws, and that’s wrong, they’re called tuk-tuks. What they are is a three-wheeled vehicle with enough room for a driver in front and two, maybe three people can fit in the back part. I hesitate to call it a backseat because there’s really not enough room to call it a backseat. A backseat is bigger than three feet wide.

Anyway, the bus stopped in, of course, the middle of a busy intersection to let us off, then drove away, and we carefully made our way over to the side of the road and then started to walk the shops. The way that everything is set up is that about ten feet away from the road is a store front, all of which are underneath a concrete awning, for your shopping pleasure in inclement weather.

And after a while, you realize that most of the shops are selling variants of the same thing, whether it be bracelets, food, or colanders, there wasn’t a whole lot of variety, and there wasn’t a whole lot of stuff that interested any of us. Our group was myself and seven other girls, so as always, I hung out in the back and kept doing head counts as we went along. I’m not going to lose anyone on the streets of India.

That proposition was actually quite easy because we were doing well sticking as a group and communicating when one person wanted to stop. That is, until we walked by an alleyway, and a couple boys pointed us down there to go look at the shops that were set up down there. In my mind, I see Indian boys calling over good looking American girls, and I get a little uneasy because if something happens, the first one they’re going to go after is me. But, because I was in the back, I couldn’t express my want to keep on the street, and before I knew it, we were going down your typical Indian back alleyway. I have no issues with wanting to explore all the parts of India, or any country for that matter, but I wasn’t getting good vibes from the alleyway and the boys.

When we got to the end, it was clear that only locals ever go back there, because, like the Monkees, we were getting the funniest looks from everyone we met. It didn’t take the group long to decide that the two shops that were back there were not what we were looking for and we turned back around and headed out. And the boys, now four of them, followed us. And they continued to follow us. There’s a difference between getting to know the locals and having a group of four boys follow a group of seven girls through the streets of Jaipur. For all intents and purposes, the boys could have been the finest group of boys in Jaipur, but I didn’t know that I didn’t trust them for as far I could throw them, and I don’t think I can throw four guys very far.

Walking along the shops, I was trying to take as many mental notes as possible. There were motorbikes and bicycles packed everywhere along the street. Funky puddles were intermittently placed. Some shops were much cleaner than others, as were some better lit. Some shops were four feet wide and some were twenty feet. It’s a way of life that’s so alien to our way of thinking that it just makes it difficult to comprehend after a while. You just have to stop thinking about what you’re walking on sometimes because there’s no other way to go.

So, we’re going up and down the shops, and no one’s really stopping anymore, and I haven’t come close to finding anything to buy, with a couple exceptions. I still need a watch. This pocketwatch thing is not going to work for the rest of the trip. I’m sick of it already. And there were little cases with watches in them as I went by. I stopped and looked at two or three and ended up not buying anything because those watches didn’t look like they’d be able to make it through the end of the day. A good rule of thumb is that if it’s not working when you’re looking at it, it’s still not going to work when you strap it to your wrist.

We got to a major cross street intersection and I took a poll of who wanted to stay and shop some more, and who was ready to go. Having just been able to shake the boys, who had been following us for about a half hour, we found that we were about ready to call it a day.

We had a business card for the hotel, so we split the group in half to get back and showed the address to the tuk-tuk driver. The guy nodded like he knew and pointed to the back of the tuk-tuk for us to get in. They tell us to negotiate a price beforehand, and we couldn’t figure out if the price was for an individual or for each person. I got tired of trying to figure it out and figured we’d pay the guy when we got to the hotel.

As I said before, there’s really only room for two to sit semi-comfortably. And four of us crammed in there. Three in the seat, and I sat on the bar between the driver and the back, holding onto whatever I can get my hands on.

It really was quite a tight fit. You get to know your friends very well. I was facing backwards, so I was watching where we’ve been instead of where we were going, which was apparently a good thing because the girls’ faces went wide a few times as we swerved in and out of traffic. I turned around every once in a while, and the only way to describe the traffic patterns in India is, “Traffic patterns, what traffic patterns?”

The ride back to the hotel was about ten minutes, and while glad that we made it back in one piece, it was an experience that was worth it. And the charge for admission was minimal, and we had to pay for each of us individually. That didn’t matter though.

When we got back to the hotel, we were spent, so we watched TV. Indian TV stations in their hotels are not what’s broadcasted in the rest of the country, so we get stuff like CNN International and movie channels, which show movies like The First Wives Club. I’m not sure why we watched that, but it was probably because there was nothing else on. It was alright. And then an old episode of Friends came on after. I’m not sure why everyone likes this show. There’s a reason why they cancelled it a few years ago.

After that, we had our lovely buffet dinner again downstairs, with the exact same menu that we had the previous night. They had a guy making a weird pasta thing with lots of raw vegetables. Nobody was deathly ill today, so it must have been fine the night before, and after waiting in line for ten minutes, it was almost worth the wait. I have trouble remembering that pasta outside of the US is supposed to not taste identical to the stuff back home. That would be weird.

On the way back up to the room I asked the front desk if they had a really small screwdriver for my watch. It’s got small screws on the back battery cover, and the battery should be the same size that it is in my pocketwatch, so the current plan is to do the ol’ bait and switch. So they said they’d sent a maintenance guy up to the room with his toolbox. Sounds like a plan. Wouldn’t you know that when he came up there, his screwdrivers were too big for the screws. He said that he would go get a smaller one and come back up to the room.

He never came back.

A lot of other people from our group decided that they wanted to go out to a nearby hookah bar for our last night of our trip. I didn’t come to India to party, and I was dead tired and ready for bed as it was. I declined, and they went off to do whatever it is they do. I’m not exactly sure what a hookah is, because I don’t go for that kind of stuff, but all I know is that everyone puts a hose in their mouth and breathes in smoke from a hookah. And that’s supposed to be a good time. Yeah, enjoy yourselves there. I’ll see you in the morning

I decided, for reasons unknown, at the end of the day, that portions of the day were making striking references to Star Wars titles, so those are going to be sprinkled throughout the forthcoming day 4 in India. (I needed something to do on the airplane ride back home – just go with it.) And as a final FYI, I’ll be going in the episode order of 1-6, not 4-6 then 1-3, as the films were made.

This time, our wake-up call came at 3am. I wouldn’t call that a wake-up call as much as I would call it a form of torture. My mom doesn’t even get up that early at home (on a regular basis, at least.) I was down and ready to go well before out 3:30 time of departure. And I think everybody else was too. But, again, we were late leaving, and this time I have absolutely no idea why. I don’t like being late, I miss stuff that way.

I guess our tour guides decided it was time to leave at some point because we shoved off in the darkness of Jaipur and headed to lovely Jaipur Train Station to board our train bound back for Delhi. On the bus ride, I looked through the boxed breakfast that we were given and decided that it would be best if it were left boxed. It just didn’t look remotely appetizing, or remotely like food for that matter. I always say that breakfast is just food that’s verying shades of brown, and there wasn’t a whole lot of brown in there, so I wasn’t sure what we were being given, but I planned to leave it for someone I saw along the way so it wouldn’t go to waste.

On the way into the train station, and even in the train station, I was shocked at the number of people that were sleeping anywhere they could get an empty spot of ground. There was a decent sized lobby in the train station and there was nothing but an aisle from the door to the tracks because there were so many people sleeping everywhere else. That was another little bit of culture shock for us. Just add it to the list.

As we arrived at the train station, it seemed like we were on the run because our guides moved us once about every ten minutes. Firs they moved us to another track. Then they moved us further up the platform, then back in the other direction, and all the while we were followed by rabies, which is my new way of referring to any furry mammal, which in this case was a dog. Just like at the Delhi station, I’m not a big fan of dogs in these foreign lands, just because I don’t trust that they’re not going to go nuts and bite me, because if they do, I don’t have complete faith in the Indian health care system.

They call the Indian train system the most complex in the world for a reason, and that’s because nobody can figure it out. A train came at the time that we were supposed to depart, but our guides said that it wasn’t ours because our train was late. I figured they knew what they were talking about, but I’m sure that they had their own doubts as well. It’s not like there are announcements or boards with departure times listed, especially at 4:15 in the morning. You would think that that would not be the most popular time to travel, and you would be wrong. The place was hopping like it was daylight out. I guess everyone’s got a train to catch.

The train that we rode from Delhi to Agra was your standard train. It had seats that were almost comfortable and that was it. It was fine. Our train from Jaipur to Delhi was equipped with sleeper cars, which are an experience all to themselves, let me tell you. Based on the accommodations of our first train, I figured something remotely similar this time. I also had my ticket in hand with what bed was mine. Again, like the last one, was written on a piece of paper the size of a stamp with the car number and bed number.

I’m not sure where things really went awry. I’ll give you the minute by minute account and you let me know where things started to go haywire. So the train pulls up, late, and our guides think that it’s not going to want to stay at the platform for long, so they’re a little nervous that we’re not all going to get on in time, which means that I’m pushing my way as far to the front of the line as I can. The train pulls up, people lollygag getting off, and they start rushing us on. With this sense of expediency, you would think that people would be able to get everyone on the train quick. Instead, they’re all walking slow down the aisle looking for their bed like they’re on an airplane, and you know how long it takes people to board an airplane.

So then the guides start yelling for people to just keep walking so that we can get everyone on the car. And my bed is towards the back anyway, so I wasn’t really concerned about anything. The car, unbeknownst to us, already had passengers on board, some of which were in people’s beds, and they were settled in, and weren’t moving. If the train crashed those people would sleep through it. As a result, there begins a mad dash to grab the nearest bed. Because all of us went to the back to let everyone on, we’re all stuck in the back and the beds are gobbled up quick. I claim a random bed, and someone else sits down, and I assume her to get up and get her own bed. Nope, she wasn’t moving. I looked up and down the aisle, and somewhere there must have been a miscalculation along the way, or a bunch of Indians in the wrong beds, because there are no empty beds.

So, as if sleeping isn’t already difficult enough for me on planes, trains, and automobiles, things just go a little more difficult. Then comes in the first Star Wars title, The Snoring Menace (see, because the film is actually titled The Phantom Menace – make sure you can keep up with me in this semi-entertaining venture.) Let me paint the word picture about how these beds are set up. In the train car are a series of open compartments, meaning compartments that have no doors and everyone walks through. There’s zero privacy in other words. So across from each compartment are two beds, one on top of the other, and they are parallel with the aisle, which is right next to them, and off center in the car. In the compartment itself are two three-bed-tiers on opposite sides of a dirty window.

I’m on the bottom bed of the double next to the aisle, so I’d hang my feet over the edge, but then that blocks the aisle and I’d have to keep moving them, so for most of the ride, I was in a pose that resembled the fetal position. And in case you haven’t sat in that position in a while, when you’ve got your legs pulled that close to your body, it starts to cut off the circulation to the lower parts of your legs, meaning that I had to stretch my legs into the aisle every so often, and then pull them back in as someone who I’ll mention in a moment came by.

Across the aisle, on the lower of the three beds to one side of the compartment is a gigantic Indian man. When I say he’s taking up the entire bed, I mean it. Below there’s a small stand and he converted it into his night stand. I guess you get to do that when you’re the first one there. And this man – I’ve never heard a man snore so bizarrely. Those sounds were inhuman. I’m convinced he had a small marmoset curled up in his nasal cavity. There’s no way. The way that I’ve been describing the snore is as a wet, guttural snore. I didn’t even know snores could be wet. It sounded like all the phalanges were just covered in some kind of goo or mucus and were flapping against one another every time he breathed in or out. And the snore didn’t remain the same all night. At some points it was more nasal and others it sounded like he was breathing though his rear end, and I don’t even think that’s anatomically possible. But then again, I’m no doctor.

As a result of the snoring menace, I couldn’t fall asleep, and it looked like everyone else did, because it was quiet and nobody was moving. I would have broken out my book if there was any light, but don’t forget, this is still just after 5 in the morning, and the sun as yet to start coming up over the Indian countryside. There were a few brief, very brief, fleeting moments when it almost felt like I was going to be able to fall asleep, but I must have been hallucinating. Hey, at that point, I would have taken anything I could get, hallucinations or not.

Another lovely additive to our journey through India was a gentleman selling chai tea. He is Star Wars reference number two, Attack of the Chais (based on the movie, Attack of the Clones.) He would walk back and forth through all the cars on the train trying to sell chai tea. I know chai tea is popular back in the states, but I still have no idea what it is, I don’t enjoy tea, and I’m not going to buy anything off of this train, especially after the guides told us not to before we boarded the train.

Chai tea man would not have been nearly as bad as he was if weren’t going up and down the aisle about every twenty minutes. But he wasn’t just walking up and down, he was yelling, “CHAI!” at the top of his lungs over and over again as he moved though the car. As if the snoring wasn’t bad enough, the “CHAI!” was. I stopped trying to fall asleep as soon as I realized that this guy was going to be coming through as frequently as he was. I think he woke up everyone on the train, with the exception of the locals, especially the snoring menace, where it was obvious that he was still sleeping. The wet phalanges were still flapping away.

The train ride was probably the part of India that I enjoyed least, but it’s the story that I like to tell the most. I enjoy coming up with other ways to describe the sound the snoring menace made. The possibilities for that are so limitless.

All in all, it was a very uncomfortable ride on an Indian train that really wasn’t up to my standards of cleanliness, it wasn’t even up to our last train ride’s standards of cleanliness. Speaking of cleanliness, I told you in the last post that I’d tell you why I would not walk on Indian train tracks if my life depended on it. After the sun came up, people in our group ‘woke up’ and started milling about, and a few went to the bathroom. What they told me when they came back was the bathroom was a hole in the floor, where you could watch the tracks whiz by underneath. That’s right, it just goes right down. It’s just not something I want to think about too much, because then I’ll think of other things about it.

When we were arriving at the Delhi train station, we were again gatherered with a call of “Semester!” still with the volume increasing with every syllable. We hear that an average of two or three times an hour. And that includes all 24 hours of the day, so don’t forget it’s an average. The train stopped and we all emptied out. The train station experience was a little different this time. There was no bridge over the tracks, instead we had to walk down to a concrete path, and walk over the tracks. I jumped. I had already decided to wear my old pair of sneakers in India, and I decided here that once I was back on the ship that I wasn’t going to wear them again.

Once we made it over to our new set of buses, they took us over to Gandhi’s house. I didn’t know Gandhi had a house, and I think it was just his last house, which is where we was assassinated, right in his backyard. It’s really quite a nice memorial and remembrance they have for that man. It’s very clear that India misses him dearly. He’s on every denomination of their currency, and his quotations are everywhere. It was amazing to be there, and again, there are a few places in the world where you just don’t think that you’d ever get to, and where Gandhi was assassinated was on that list.

After we departed there, they took us on a lovely driving tour of governmental Delhi. It’s the capital of the country, so it’s where all the official buildings are, and because we’re in a bus, it’s the idea that someone’s bound to get a decent photo, and we’ll just get it from them later. Because if you’re on the left side of the bus, and the building’s on the right, you’re just not going to get that great of a photo, it’s best to stick with what’s on your side. So I have lovely photos of about half of Delhi’s parliamentary buildings.

Now that we’re finally in Delhi in the daylight, I believe it to be true that if you can drive in the streets of Delhi, you can drive anywhere in the world. It’s just mass pandemonium in the streets. And we’re on a gigantic bus going past small dinky tuk-tuks, and there’s some tuk-tuks whizzing by us, and it’s best to not look down at the traffic, and instead look at what’s all around you.

Before lunch, they took us somewhere completely different, as Monty Python would say. Apparently there’s a religion called Bahai. I’ve never heard of it prior to this trip, but I guess other people have, otherwise why would we be going to this place. It’s actually quite an impressive structure. It looks like a giant white lotus flower. As of my writing, I know that the Amazing Race hasn’t been to Delhi, but if they ever get there, this would be a great place for them to go, just because it’s so cool and bizarre looking considering the surroundings. Our guides pointed out a few buildings miles off in the distance and told us that’s where the Hare Krishna’s are. Of course my first response is, “where’s George Harrison when you need him?” Nobody on the bus had any idea what I was talking about. It’s their loss.

So they take us to the Bahai lotus thing, we walk in about five minutes, and we’re still a good couple hundred meters away, we stop for photos, and our guides say, “Semester! Back to the bus!” And we’re thinking, well did we come all this way just for photos? And the short answer is, well, yes. Some people took issue with that, but as our guides said, they don’t have to come to lunch; they’ve just got to find us later if they want. And they came with us, albeit begrudgingly.

As we travel more and more in India, and I’ve been able to avoid getting sick with each meal, I’m becoming less and less adventurous with my eating because I’ve come this far and I don’t want to lose it now, even if I am still taking my two Pepto tablets before each meal. I saw chicken, and recognized it as chicken, which is the key, and when I brought it back to my plate and cut into it, it was pink on the inside. You must cook chicken well. And this brings about Star Wars title three, Revenge of the Pink Chicken (nothing rhymes with Sith, deal with it.) I’m not about to eat pink chicken. I’m 90% sure that it’s fine, but why risk it at this stage? When it hits me, I’ll be 36,000 feet over India.

After my lovely lunch consisting mostly of mostly white rice, our guides told us that we had a few hours to ourselves before we had to depart for the airport. And they also told us that there was a market within walking distance from the hotel. I went off with a small group, and was mildly concerned when the only direction we had was our guide pointing in the direction of the market. Not wanting to rock the boat, I went along with everyone, and hoped that we’d get somewhere.

We were walking all over creation trying to find this market, and it seemed like we were so aimless in our direction and walking that I started to get annoyed. We weren’t heading for a market, and nobody wanted to admit that they were wrong. After over a half hour, and that included a stop at an ATM for some people, and a traverse underneath a major highway, as well as going through a bunch of residential side streets, Shantel and I decided to split from the group once we hit a major roadway.

Something that I discovered is that almost every city we’ve been in, at every port we have visited thus far, there’s always a market, and nobody ever knows where it is. And if and when you find it, nobody knows if it’s just a market, or the market that you’ve been looking for.

As we moved along the block, we noticed what looked like a market across the street. We went over, and sure enough, it was a market, but I still have no idea if it’s the one that our guides told us about. Nonetheless, we were there and ready to shop! I really had two goals of items to buy here. I wanted a new watch, which I was still incredibly annoyed about not having, and in India fabric is a big deal, so I wanted a swatch of Indian fabric for purposes to be determined at a later time. One of the first places we saw was a shop with a nice looking display case of watches and clocks all over the walls. I resigned to the fact that because I want a watch as bad as I do, sometimes you need to just get something to tell you the time.

But I actually got a watch that looked to be in decent working order, and like it would make it through, not just the rest of the day, but through the rest of the trip. At least, that’s the thought and vibe that I kept looking at my watch thinking. Thus comes the fourth Star Wars title, A New Watch (based on the first movie produced called A New Hope, which is information that nobody knows.)

A few stores away was a fabric store that we heard was good from other people from our trip who had also made it to the same market. As we neared the store, there was a roadblock, namely rabies. This dog, unlike the other encountered at the train stations, was barking quite rabidly. We hid behind a few barriers until the dog moved out of the way, and then continued into the store.

All I really wanted was fabric. Plain old fabric with a half-decent color scheme and design on it. I didn’t want material to make an outfit out of, even though that’s what they tried to keep giving me. I didn’t want expensive silk, and I certainly didn’t want twelve meters of it. I wanted fabric. That’s it. And it took twenty minutes to find one that fit my open categories. But I was glad that I was able to leave with my Indian fabric. I’ll worry about what I’m going to end up doing with it after the trip.

As I checked my new watch, that may or may not be correct in time, we decided that we should start heading back to the hotel. We walked back out to the entrance of the market and looked for a tuk-tuk. That wasn’t difficult, they’re everywhere, and there were five or six just sitting outside the market waiting for unsuspecting individuals like ourselves. We show the guy the business card of the hotel, and there’s a very unnerving pause before he gives us a short figure-eight nod. Then we want him to agree on a price before we get in.

In India, the currency is the rupee. That’s not to be confused with what the currency was in Mauritius, which was the Mauritian rupee. They’re two completely different monetary units, which are called almost the same thing. The English dialect in India is, dare I say, world-renowned. You know what it is, and so I say, “10 rupee, I give you 10 rupee.” 10 rupees isn’t much, but when we negotiate up to 20, we don’t complain, not really knowing if that’s per person, or for the ride.

So we get in, and have a much smoother ride over to the hotel, as compared to the last one that we took in Jaipur. Traffic was much less and the drive was only three or four minutes. The only thing that was slightly unnerving was the short time that we spent on the highway. A tuk-tuk is a very small vehicle, and most other vehicles on the road could run us over in a heartbeat. I tried to look out the other window on the highway, and we arrived at the hotel in one piece. I gave the guy 20 rupees, turned to walk away, and expect him to come running over asking for the other 20 rupees for the both of us. He never did. We walked into the hotel.

Then we have to wait. We have to wait until our tour guides say to go. Then we’ll wait on the bus as we drive to the airport, and then wait at the airport, and then sit around on the airplane. All in all, it’s a lot of sitting, which brings us to our fifth Star Wars title, The Sitting Around Strikes Back (I know ‘sitting around’ sounds nothing like ‘empire’ but it’s all that fit at that time of day.)

And sit around we did. It’s the classic hurry up and wait scenario that everybody loves. And when I say love, I really mean despise. After the past few days and all of our early wake-ups, I was what I would call mildly conscious on the way to the airport. I was awake enough at some points to observe some of the lovely Delhi driving on exhibition for the evening rush. Althought the rush looked an awful lot like it does every other time of the day, too.

I did a sudoku as I waited for our flight in the airport, which seemed a little more put together and secure than the Chennai airport, but at this point, with all the airports I’ve been in, I can’t tell anymore, they all look the same after a while. We did get to see a lovely sunset out of the windows, and by the time our flight was called it was completely dark outside. I’ve never been a great fan of flying at night because I can’t see, and somehow, I also assume that the pilots can’t see, but I assume that they can, otherwise we wouldn’t be taking off.

The flight was at 8, and as I should come to take into account, the flight didn’t take-off at 8, we weren’t completely boarded at 8. I don’t think international flights are ever on time. I’ve yet to come close, and here I am, on my ninth international flight of the trip. Only five more before San Diego!

To be honest, the flight was both good and bad. The nearly three hour flight seemed to go by quite quickly, but I’m not sure what they served us for dinner, because it didn’t really look much like food, in my opinion. Again, Brenda sat across the aisle from me, and she didn’t touch much of her dinner either. I resolved to make it back to the ship to eat, where I wouldn’t have to worry about any kind of gastro-intestinal diseases that would make my last day in India, and likely the transit to Malaysia, a joy.

When we touched back down in Chennai, first I was glad I survived another flight. You would think after all these flights that I would be used to flying by now, but I’m still not too keen on all the noises. The worst one is the one that comes about 30 seconds after leaving the ground. Here’s what I think happens, they rev the engines for take-off, and once we’re in the air, the slow the engines down because we accelerating at a fine speed. But when you’re in the plane, it sounds like something’s wrong with the engines, they’re failing, and we’re going to start nose-diving to the ground. It’s that noise of slowing down after taking off that drive me absolutely bonkers. And then there’s all the other noises in the flight that are resultant of the engines revving up and slowing down. You would think that maintaining a constant speed would be something that they’d be able to do. No, that would make my flights easy, and why do things the easy way when they can have me fidgeting in my seat for hours.

Second, now we had to get back to the ship. The tough part was over, but the second toughest part was still to come. Allow me to explain. Our trip had two buses for the entire trip, and sure enough, outside the airport were two more buses waiting to take us back to the ship. When the buses get back to the ship, all of our bags will need to be searched upon reentry to the ship. If you’re a close reader of my blog, you remember the line when I came back from my safari. I waited over an hour in line because it was so long and so many people had bags to search. Our trip fills two buses, and if we’re on the bus that gets back to the ship second, we’re waiting quite a while longer than the first bus back, so it’s incredibly important to try to get back to the ship first.

Thus begins the Great Indian Bus Race, our version of the Daytona 500. It gets that competitive. Of our two bus leaders, Brenda was on the bus I joined, and Stephanie Sue, the other bus leader, was on the other bus. Stephanie Sue bribes the driver with cash to get her bus back first. Like I said, this gets intense. Knowing that, the people at the front of our bus were taking up a collection to persuade our driver to be the better driver and get us back first. Like out of the starting gates at Churchill Downs, we were off.

Almost immediately, we fell behind, much to the disappointment of our bus, and to the joy of the other bus. We know the other bus was joyous because we could hear them cheering as they drove by us. The bus was not air conditioned, so all the windows were open to let in the “fresh” air. The last thing that air could be called is fresh. I was not looking forward to driving back over the bodies of water.

On the 40 minute drive back to the pier, so it’s a marathon, not a spring, the lead changed two or three times. But I lost touch with the race every time a smell invaded the bus, and invaded was the proper term. Out of all the places I’ve been in India, this drive between the pier and the airport is a cornucopia of smells that are just wrong. They can’t be put into words. Trust me, I’ve tried. There’s no way to describe them. Just be glad you haven’t had the pleasure of having that stuff come into your olfactory.

It was dark outside, and the scenery was zipping by at a pace that I would call ‘too quick.’ These buses were racing sometimes side by side through the streets of Chennai, and while I don’t want to say that I feared for my safety at some points, at no time did I feel like I could relax. I was already planning the quickest and most direct way out of the bus should there be some kind of incident.

There was one more intersection before the port area, and from there on out, it’s just about a one lane street. That’s when our bus came from behind and squeaked ahead at the last moment. Then we had to go through two security checkpoints before getting to the half-mile long stretch of dock until we reach the ship. This was where the buses drag raced each other. Because we had a lead, we only had to keep the other bus behind us, and these buses can only go so fast, and I’m sure they both went faster than that here. We took the last right turn into the ship a little on the hard side, and when we arrived to a stop at the ship, the other bus was just behind us. I was sitting midway back in the bus, so by the time I got off the bus, half of our bus and the beginning of the other bus were already on line. The Return of the Jetlagged (See, isn’t that a good one for my sixth and last Star Wars title) was in full effect as we all stood on line, waiting to get back on the ship to get to bed. I was a little more so than most because I had another trip leaving again in the morning at 7, and by the time we got on line, it was just after 11:30 pm, or 2330 as we’re supposed to call it.

I was back in my room around 12:15, and I quickly unpacked and kept everything in my backpack that I’d need for my day trip the next day, our last day in India. I wasn’t sick yet, and just had to avoid it for one more day.

The trip on day 5 of India was all about temples. Temples, temples, temples. We were set to journey to two of the most unpronounceable places I’ve ever seen: Kancheepuram and Mamallampuram. Good luck with that; when I get home there will be an oral examination.

6:20 is far too early to wake up on this trip, any day of the week. After I grab a quick breakfast, we meet in the Union and then head out to the bus. As always, they tell us that the drive to Kancheepuram will be about an hour. I’ve come to accept the fact that the rest of the world has no sense of time, as the hour drive took two and a half hours. I’m sure this time is factored into the day, but you get that sinking feeling that maybe, just maybe, they’re going to take us to a dark alleyway and leave us there after robbing us blind. It’s the perfect scheme. We’d never be able to find them again, and they get away with all our money, credit cards, cameras, and other things of value that can be resold on the streets of India for profit. Sometimes that’s how I think. When the hypochondriac takes a backseat, that’s the part that manifests itself.

Out of all the temples we went to, they all start looking the same after a while, so I’m not entirely sure how great my descriptions of them are going to be, that and because I was growing tired and bored as the day progressed, so my interest waned exponentially.

The first temple complex we visited was Hindu. I’m a bit of a germaphobe, so I’m not that big a fan of dirt and germs and that kind of thing. That presents a mild conflict when we get to the temple, and we have to take off our shoes. Thank goodness I was wearing an old pair of socks, because if I was like some people who were forced to go barefoot, I would have had a mild panic attack.

This first temple, according to my notes, is the 1200-year-old Kailasanatha Temple. It looked like they were preparing for some kind of festival on the inside because they were painting odd looking somethings. Throughout the rest of the complex, the part we were in was indoors, was kind of dark, and very temple-ish. We were all fine, until two things happened. First, one of the people on our trip started to feel very ill, and wasn’t going to be able to continue with the trip. This stuff can hit you fast, so someone walked back out with her and planned to take a taxi back to the ship. I later heard that their van was not air-conditioned, and they had to keep making stops when she was sick, but Dia, our registrar on board, the one who took the sick girl back, was saintly and really was a trooper. She’s one of the best people on the voyage.

Secondly, our guide mysteriously disappeared, and we couldn’t find her. She showed us something to distract us, and I watched her quickly walk away. I didn’t realize at the time that she was leaving us, but I did shortly thereafter when one observant traveler asked where our guide was. She returned a few minutes later, and with no less than a turn, she acted like nothing was ever wrong.

I thought the temple was alright. Unfortunately I spent the whole time wondering if my shoes would be where we left them, as well as trying not to think about what we were walking in, around, and through. That took away from my experience just a little bit.

When we got back to the bus, we had a short drive to what my notes tell me is Vaikuntanatha Temple, with its famous Hall of 96 Pillars. I didn’t bother to count, we had to take off our shoes here, but this time it was in the open air so it was somewhat cleaner, and I was able to relax a little bit more. The temple complex was kind of small and was really a square with a building, apparently of 96 pillars in the middle, surrounded by a wall of intricately carved stuffs.

The fun part of this temple, I thought, was that there were lots of small little alcoves. The entire temple used to be covered in paint and paintings, but hardly any of them have survived, so I found fun in looking in all the nooks for fresco paintings that survived. I found a few, and have no idea what they are, but I still found them fascinating. And yes, when we got back to the front, our shoes were still where we left them.

You may notice that even after these first few temples that nothing’s happening. That’s because it was a relatively uneventful trip, so it doesn’t make for the best and easiest discussion, but it gets better as the day goes along, trust me.

After leaving that temple, there were hawkers waiting for us back out by the bus. At this point, day 5 in India, we’re getting pretty good at paying no attention to them. But they haven’t gotten used to us yet, and they’re as persistent as persistent can be.

Our next temple, also according to my notes, was the ten-storied, intricately sculptured tower of the 16^th century Ekambareswara Tower. Say that ten times fast, while eating molasses. And it was a very intricately sculptured tower, and we apparently had to take off our shoes to walk underneath it. Here was the worst spot of the day. In the passageway underneath the tower was a nearly completely dirt path littered with bird droppings along the way. Talk about panic attack, I was hopping around like I was on hot coals. On the other side of the tower was the actual temple, maybe. I don’t think that the tower was the temple, but I could be sorely mistaken.

All of these temples have been Hindu thus far, to the best of my knowledge. Something that Hindu temples are known for is having sculptures of people having erotic sex. This was done to encourage population growth and fornication hundreds of years ago. It worked, and given about ten years, India will be the most populous country on the planet, after finally surpassing China. Long story short, this temple area had a bunch of the sculptures and the art professor on our trip kept asking about them.

After leaving that last temple, whose name I refuse to type again, they took us to a silk demonstration. Here, they showed us how you take silk thread and weave it into fabric. It’s really an amazing process. It’s this giant non-electric machine where by pulling a series of levers, it pulls the right threads out for the weaver to weave, and then reorients itself for each color for each row. It’s intricate and that’s why I’ve done a disastrous job telling you how it works. You’ll just have to go with me on this one.

But needless to say, what would a trip to the silk factory be without a trip upstairs to the store? At this point, if people came to India looking for fabric and they haven’t been able to get it already, then they really haven’t been looking very hard. I went upstairs expecting free soda beverages again, and there they were in oddly shaped cups. Apparently I have a difficult time with oddly shaped spouted cups, because I left with a very nice dribble running down the front of my white t-shirt that’s getting thrown away at the end of the trip anyway.

I was ready to go after about five minutes, which is four minutes longer than some other people I know, but the amount of people that were there for an extended amount of time, holding up the entire trip, was unbelievable. It was over a half hour, and I’m not really sure what they were doing that entire time. I went back to bus and found it empty, so I guess they were still shopping. I was hungry and relegated to the fact that I probably wouldn’t be eating much at lunch anyway.

I ended up having a very non-risky lunch of white rice. Yes, that’s it – white rice. Nothing else really looked like it was completely safe to eat to avoid illness or injury, so I avoided them all like the plague. I reverted back to what I call my Nicaragua Diet, but that’s another story for a completely different time. If you’re interested in it, drop me a line and I’ll give you the finer points of my patented Nicaragua Diet.

They didn’t even tell us how far the drive was to Mamallapuram, and we didn’t even bother to ask because we figured the number would be off anyway. It ended up being another hour and a half on top of the two and a half we’d already done, making our total travel time for the day currently stand at four hours, if I’ve done the math correctly, and that’s anybody’s guess at this point.

First, they dropped us off at what my notes tell me is the Five Rathas, named after the Pandava brothers, heroes of the Mahabharata. You’re familiar, aren’t you? And wouldn’t you know that we arrived the same time as a gigantic group of schoolchildren, and apparently a group of hawkers. I think memos are put out about where the tour groups are going and when they’re going to be there.

Here’s what this thing that’s not a temple is, which I appreciated more than any of the ones we’ve seen thus far. There were a number of rock outcroppings at this site relatively close to the beach, and they carved these structures out of the rock outcroppings. There were five temple-esque structures, and a life size elephant that everyone took photos in front of. It’s not a temple because it was never blessed by a holy man. I think.

The school group complicated matters just because there were so many of them. A veritable teeming horde, if you will. It was a very nice site to sit at in one of the corners and just enjoy the scenery, both that of carved and the children. The air was also cleaner here than anywhere else we went, so that was also a plus.

Next on our whirlwind tour was a stop at the appropriately named Shore Temple, 1200 years old, and located just on the shore. They said it was underwater for a short time after the 2004 tsunami. It’s weird to think about that stuff when you’re out here in Asia, and every time you do, you find yourself scanning the horizon.

This temple, which was apparently blessed by a holy man, was a temple, on the beach, and that was about it. Nothing special at all. I have nothing to write about at the temple, but upon leaving the temple, we noticed something fascinating. The hawkers that were at the last stop, had hopped on their motorbikes and followed us to the Shore Temple (I have no qualms retyping the name of this temple.) Those hawkers are determined people. And determination is important in life, unless you’re the one that keeps being harassed by the same people. You would think that if we turned them down at one spot that the same result would happen at the next, but I guess that’s not the logic.

The last stop on our whirlwind tour, which was just inland from the Shore Temple was, according to my notes, the biggest bas-relief (meaning that someone found a rock wall and carved stuff into it) in the world, Arjuna’s Penance, which portrays the descent of the Ganges from Shiva’s locks and other fables from the Panchatantra. This was actually very cool looking because it was both above and below street level, and then we could run to the staircase in the back and climb to the top to have a wonderful view of the sun beginning to set over India on our last day in the country. It was a nice way to end the day, and I considered it may way of vindicating my conquering of India, which for me, was quite a tall order and a feat.

Another hour and a half drive back to the ship in Chennai, and my time in India was over. It was a long time on the bus, but we got to see a lot of random stuff in India that I don’t think I would have been able to see otherwise, and I’m glad I did it. But getting up at 6:20 for our 7 departure was on the side of torture.

It didn’t take long to get back on the ship, and with that, the looming giant departs, and with it, India does as well. Another country gone from our checklist. India was not like the other blogs from past voyages said it would be. Those all said that you will have an opinion of India, and you will either love or hate it. I can honestly say that upon finishing India, I don’t have an opinion yet. I said that way back before coming into India I’d tell you what I thought of it when we left. And here it is: I don’t know. It’s a seemingly unsatisfying answer, but it’s the one I’ve got and I like it. I’m satisfied with it.

Then I showered and went to bed.