Traversation

After a 17 1/2 hour train journey I decided that I will travel First Class if by train I must arrive in Mumbai. Sheesh. I met a San Fran software developer on the platform. She was looking for her berth,. Mine was posted clearly on my ticket. Hers, however, was not. Turns out she is in the car attached to mine only First Class. The difference is that of a short naugahyde sofa to a thick plush sectional. I took two Tylenol PM and went to bed. On the naugahyde.

Okay so well I am in Ahmedabad. Arrived at 8 this morning and am securely placed in the Hotel Serena for about $13/nt. Had a wonderfully spicy masala omelet with milk coffee upon arrival ($1.13) and took a hot shower. Had to get TP however from the 'chemist' (pharmacy) down the street. Also got some cold tabs that I needed yesterday. I had TP stuck up my nostril on the train so I didn't post nasal drip all over everything. Sigh.

Well today is February 14th, Valentines Day even in India. I shall have to give my friends leave to be romantic if they choose instead of meeting up with me. I shall have time to take a rickshaw and explore a bit. I already have given the hotel my laundry which will be back this evening but I do not recall the last time I shaved...probably two or three days ago. I have a battery operated razor but also a blade which I have used as much to catch up whenever I forget for a few days. Like now. I have decided to not change the publish date/time of this blog in order to let everyone see the time difference. As you can see it will be 13 1/2 hours behind what I am actually experiencing,

The Times of India has been an interesting read every time I have picked it up. Written in English it covers the news stories from all over the country. The Monday I pulled out from Varanasi I read that some guy building a bomb had blown himself up there. On Sunday. In Varanasi. Oops. I didn't hear anything. Last week a hotel here in Ahmedabad that had been listing eventually fell in on itself. It's 32 rooms were at capacity. Mine seems sturdy enough. Mumbai has some political unrest surrounding some glory seeking politicians inflammatory remarks which sparked violence. They wanted to arrest him but feared more of the same. I though I would rather they did all that while I was out, honestly. It seems they complies because the news this morning was the this guy had posted bail. Interesting times. Thankfully I seem to be missing all the trouble. The big news today is that India's equivalent of the TSA is pushing to have the ability to 'take out' hijacked planes if there is conclusive evidence that it will be used as a weapon, a la 9/11. I believe this is already law, the push is to be able to take them out without protocol.

Here are a few memories. I was walking the ghats in Varanasi when this burro was standing on one of the upper steps leading down to the water. I stopped and sat next to it, readying my camera when I noticed it was hobbled; front leg tied by rope to back leg. I figured it belonged to someone. Turns out the women by the river didn't appreciate me taking a snap of their burro. And told me so. I walked away. Would have run if I had to. Don't think saree wearing old women could beat me in a race to safety. Exceedingly glad I didn't have to test the theory.

It was a holiday in Varanasi and there were paintings and sculpture, food and drink and things to buy everywhere on the ghats. More than there usually are. This particular fellow who reminds me of Stromboli from Pinocchio caught me looking at his wares and began cooking for me, unbidden. If I was ever going to dive into street food why not now? He took two potato paste patties and flattened them down in some hot oil on his really wide wok-like grill.

Adding this and that (don't ask me what) he flipped them, added more stuff, two spoons and told me to have a seat on the ghat steps behind him. It was yummy. Potato Aloo. Spicy with some sweet syrupy sauce on it too. Filled me up.

Part of the holiday ritual was having various worship places erected around where I was staying. To much noise and celebration. Loud music blaring from speakers in the streets. You get enough guys banging on little drums and it sounds like the train is passing through. These happy children were taking part in a parade. Either they were playing the part of whoever they were or they really wanted to be somewhere else.