Five Star

My sister, Tuna Tuna Tuna has wondered where I had been, having not posted anything in a few days. I will tell you, gladly, for I have been re-energizing. A close friend of mine has been traveling India and South East Asia for the past little while. She was joined by yet another firend of her's who works for the Hyatt. For Christmas they invited me to stay with them at the Grand Hyatt Hotel in Mumbai. Rooms are regularly $550 US a night, I am used to paying $2.25 US per night. The stay here is free. The room is free the snack bar is free, the breakfast is free, the hot water works 24/7, the internet is free, the soap is free. I am not going to lie I have taken a few extra bars. It has been easy living for the past few days. I have never stayed in a hotle as nice as this one, not in Canada, not in the US and definitely not in India.

This post will be out of the ordinary, it will be for my personal memory when I print out the blog upon my return and turn into a book that I'll keep and cherish. I arrived on December 25th, I had been on a night train, sleeper class non-AC. This train was packed, there were people sleeping all over the floor. In the bunk beside mine, a family, an entire family lay on top of each other. The mother lay as I did, the father lay with his feet at her face, not beside each other but on top, her legs were open and his back between them, his legs came over her ribs and his feet acted as ear-muffs on either side of her head. One young boy lay beside them, how, I am not sure. And an even younger boy lay on his father chest. They slept soundly. I am not kidding, there were people all over the floor, I go up in the night to use the toilet, by that I mean the hole in the floor of the train. It is similar to any bathroom you'd find on a train or bus but much more simple. Moving on. I made my way off the train and to the hotel around 6 am. The rickshaw that drove me there was slightly out of place, most of the cars that came near were of high quaility. Neeless to say, the rickshaw was not allowed to pull into the driveway. The driveway has gates when you enter all cars are checked with those mirrors that allow you to see under them. The Hyatt in Mumbai has one of the best clubs in the entire city in the basement. I was told this by two younger India guys who are friends with a guy I know in Montreal but who grew up here. So, I arrive via rickshaw and am immediately smiling. A little luxury never hurt anyone. I felt as if i was boarding a plane in the US when entering the building, the security was quite thorough. I made it, I came upstairs to the room, turned on the shower, which was immediately hot, turned on the t.v. which was set top CNN and began to laugh hysterically as I washed my body. JOKES MAN, JOKES! I wait for the girls to arrive and when they do we are informed of a continental breakfast down in the special VIP lobby lounge. Now, we have all had contanental breakfast at the best western but not at the Hyatt. There is freshly squeezed orange, apple, pineapple and watermelon juice. There is the best smoked salmon I have ever eaten. There is croissants, both aux beurre and chocolate. There is cereal, all kinds. There is cappuccino's although I stick with my regular Masala chai. Unlimited fresh fruit, i could go on forever, I can eat as much as I want, go back as many times as I want until 11 am. The day goes on. We head into downtown Mumbai but want to take is easy so we make it back for the 6-8 snacks and drinks, also free. Imported champagne, good imported wine, beers, a nice gin and tonic made with bombay gin, FREE! Snacks like, seared anchovies with a fresh basil leaf served on rosemary cranberry cracker drizzled with white wine sauce. All as decadent as this, all free, a plate of prosciutto with cantaloupe, these plates are always full so are our glasses. These so calles 'snacks' have been our dinner for the past three nights. We tipped two of the waiters and told them that we never want our glasses of wine or our gin and tonics' to be empty. They are never empty, unitl 8 p.m. and everything shuts down. So that is that, I had a Merry Christmas. I hope you did also.
Mumbai is not a busy as everyone says, the local train was intence though. We were packed like rats into a car, i had to fight and push with all my might to get out. There re a hundred people in a space that is 5 feet by 5 feet. I cannot move. I will feel, in canada, on a packed bus that I have the space on a limo car. Well, I've got to go get one more swim in before we board a night bus to Ellora. The real world awaits. I could get used to this easy but it is not what I came here for. I could only afford about 5 nights and then the money which I plan on spending over the course of the next 4 months would be done. I will have to harden my skin again, and by morning, all will be right as rain again. I will be back in India, traveling.

Mongoose

M.C.M.F.
Merry Christmas, Mutha 'Uckas.
This post may be more informative rather than well written with hints of genius, as previous posts' have been. Much has occurred since I last feverishly typed my current events to you.

All the while I read like a fiend, night and day to improve my writing and my ability to move and awe people though a mastery of the English language. What is this blog about again? Oh yeah, Incredible India, not semi-mindless ramblings from a 25 year old cat with a philosophy B.A.

About 4 days ago, which seems like 4 weeks ago, Taylor and I were up at dawn, racing like mad fish addicts with scooters to the early morning fish market on the western tip of Diu Island. This fish market happens every morning from 6-9, before the sun can hit the pavement where it is and cause the thousands of fish to go bad. The stench of fish is very prominent especially for me at that hour. This is not your run-of-the-mill fish market. An area comparable to a medium sized parking lot filled with fish. Not on ice, not alive, not on carts, right there on the pavement, piled, semi-sorted. I saw a 6 foot shark with teeth sharper than razors, beat that Disney - Disney always has sharks with teeth as harp as razor blades.

The picture, below left, does not do justice to the real scene, there were thousands more fish and hundreds more people, but at least you've got an idea.

We had a plan to buy a fish, to bring it to the beach, to gut it, build a fire, and then cook and eat it. We picked up a nice big tuna and some fresh squid. We scooted to the beach. Taylor began gutting the fish while I got the fire started, then I cut up the 'soon to be calamari,' cleaning out their brains and ink pouches. We had one big knife and some silver paper, also known as aluminum foil. We bought a lime and two green onions in a sad but worthy attempt to spice them up. We roughed it as best we could. Plain and simple, fresh as it gets, delicious as it can come it was. That day was filled with booze, smokes, more fish and whatever else we could get our sandy hands on. Like I have said, Diu was amazing and I would visit it again in a heart beat but I just had to 'keep on keepin on like a bird that flew.' I guess it's the only thing I know how to do.

Two days ago I left Diu for Varaval. Varaval was more of a stop-over than a visit. I arrived via bus around 8 p.m. found a room and walked around waiting for my 10 a.m. train the next morning. The room cost me 90 Rs, was filthy but amazing. The people running the joint were great. I asked them in the morning about walking to the train station and they said "no no, ride brother," I assumed they meant a rickshaw and I would have to pay. "No pay, no pay, ride brother.' He walked me out of the hotel where his motor bike was. Sure, why not, although there was my 60 lbs bag, my guitar and a fresh bottle of water. "No problem brother." I've seen 4 Indians on these bike roaring through town, so I hopped on and away we went. We took the long way to the train station which in no way bothered me. Note here that the long way was not due to speed, he was goin' plenty fast. He wanted the big tall white foreign guy with the guitar to dig his bike. I dug it.

Let me take you back a second to the 3 hour state bus ride to Veraval from Diu. Diu is the only place you can drink alcohol in Gujarat. I've said this already. These five 24 year old kids from near Ahmadabad had come to celebrate a birthday and get hammered. They had to do it one last time before boarding the bus. Obviously I sit next to them, they love me. Three are passed out drunk, not well, and two sit talking to me the entire time. Teaching me the language, asking all sorts of questions and telling me all about their lives. I learned enough Gujrati to get respect when asking for rooms and prices the next few days thanks to these kids. I have their names and address, they tell me I can ring them whenever and they'll save my ass, not that it ever needs saving.
These days I feel as light as ever. I have to admit there was a moment when I boarded the bus knowing Taylor was staying behind that made me nervous. But now, only two days later. I'll never look back. It is all for the best, these adventures and times.

I got off the train in Ahmadabad and was immediately greeted by two Israeli girls who were looking for the booking office. I was headed there myself so I told them I would take them. I had been in Ahmadabad train station a week earlier, only briefly on my way to Diu but I knew where it was. We all booked tickets. They, boarding a train at 7 the next morning to Mumbia and me the night after that had nothing to. Why not find a room, some food and have a few drinks illegally. I knew of a hotel which turned out to be quite dirty, but I am getting used to it, I am beginning to enjoy it, really. We had been sweating like mongoose in the booking office and fighting with rickshaw drivers for a decent price to get us to the hotel.After a days work like that there ios nothing like a cold beer, but mine had been in my bad for two days and were pis warm, who cares, I sure didn't and neither did they. We got a room for three as this dodgy hotel, our room had two pretty lizard crawling around but they didn't want to bother us so we didn't bother them. We checked in and went to eat.
Israeli people are some of the best I've met. I have met about 10 of them and they are all happy as can be, out for kicks and drinks, smokes and tokes. We went back to the room where I had two more tall beers and a bottle of vodka hiding in my bad, it being illegal to drink in Gujarat we could not leave the room. It was cozy we all got pretty drunk played some yaniv (an Israeli card game) and feel asleep.
Today I visited Gandhi's ashram, Sabarmati ashram, which was more than peaceful. Gandhi had lived there for many years. Now, hunger is creeping up on me and the smell of spicy curry's is wafting through the room. For a dollar I can have an unlimited thali, which includes three veg dishes, rice, four chapati, a papad and a sweet, sweet!

Soon I will tell you about India as the ultimate community. They are all brothers and sisters, brought together through their religion and their sense of belonging. Their peaceful way of living and their warm kind souls. They all sit on trains and chat. I'd have no idea if the are friends, family or have never met. I've asked repeatedly on numerous accounts, they have never met but they seem like they've been friends for a lifetime. Playing with each others kids, laughing, sharing food. It is the most amazing thing I've ever witnessed. A perfect realization for Christmas time.

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.

Blogging

Today I do not have much time to write. Much has happened and I promise to fill you in soon. Diu is beautiful and one of the best places I've been but I am leaving here today and I am in effect leaving Taylor here too. I do not have all the time in the world and I can only stay on the sandy beaches for so long before the wild city and the rest of my journey calls for me. The feet itch and the dusty road traveler in me has come to fruition. I must go. Keep checking I'll fill you in soon.

"I am thirsty,' I thought aloud. Taylor handed me the bottle of sprite based vodka drink that we had mixed up before boarding the train. I smiled gleefully.

We spent about 24 hours travelling from Udaipur to Diu, an ex-Portuguese island. Diu was a Portuguese island until India, the country that achieved Independence through non-violent revolution, bombed it. Well if their is one thing about India that i have learned and that has held true since I arrived; when you think you know something about the goings on of India, you don't. You can never predict, anticipate or guess what will happen next. India will shock you just as it did Diu.

It is beautiful here, palm trees, the works. I went swimming in the ocean today. What did you do? Not that I am guessing because it is freezing in Canada! I tell everyone I meet I am not spending another cold winter in Canada but that I am going to come to India every time I feel that cold autumn breeze on the back of my neck. Taylor says that I am a disgrace to Canadians because I don't LOVE the cold. Bollocks! It's fucking cold man, get your move on south. -10 is alright, -30 is suffering and we all know their is enough of that to go around without losing a nut to frostbite. Diu is sunny and hot, today I think it may have hit 30 degrees. We've rented scooters while we are here, it is amazing. We spent the day bombing around from beach to beach. The island itself is only about 3km by 11km. The north part is swampy but the south overlooks the deep blue ocean. If bodies of water were women I'd have many wives for I love them. There is nothing more humbling that the great ocean which could swallow you in seconds with its vastness.

We made it to the Eastern part of the island which is one of India's main fishing ports. These men are so intense. It is like going back in time. Their boats are all hand made, it takes 3 months. We saw them building three or four at a time. We got there in time to see some of the people's catch. They had everything from 4 foot long tuna to smaller fish which I do not know the names' of. The men told me in Hindi, and allowed photos, which are often prohibited in areas like that, but I do not remember.

I have not been eating any meat, although I got used to it being a poor student and spending my extra money on women and liquor, the latter being the only true part of that sentence (the part about liquor). The fish here though, has been amazing. We went to an all you can eat BBQ with shark, tuna, you name it, we ate it. Tonight we will feast again.

Diu is a huge drinking town. The state surrounding it is dry so everyone flocks here to wet their whistles'. Their are bars every second building. Speaking of which. "I am thirsty," I thought aloud and left the Internet cafe to go mix up a stiff Scotch and soda. "Hold the soda and heavy on the scotch," I was talking to myself, planning how I would order my first drink after a long day of scooting around a fabulous island.

A day in the Life

Yesterday was beyond annoying. Although IndiaRail is the number one employer, not in customer service but number of employees, in the world they are surely not the most efficient. Taylor and I have had to make certain arrangements in order to ensure seats on trains two week from now. Our haphazard way of train travel may be at the end of it rail, at least for the holiday season. Everyone wants to travel and in a country with over a billion people things can get kind of tight. So here is the plan for the next little while. On December 15 we take a 6 hour bus to Ahmedabad from Udiapur. I will let you in a few things about buses later but for now imagine bumpy roads, no bathrooms, and keep in mind what I wrote previously about traffic laws, or rather, guidelines. Moving on, later on the day of the 15th we take a night train to Diu which is an ex-Portuguese town on the coast. Our first taste of beaches. From there, on the 22nd we head back to Ahmedabad for two days before heading to Mumbai to meet up with friends, Sarah Williams and Kristina, for Christmas.
We have to do it this way because we cannot get from Diu to Mumbai. In the next 2 weeks we have more than 65 hours of travel time but it will all be worth it.

So yesterday was not super fun. Getting all this organized via Internet was a hassle. We have to find the trains, find availability and do 10 other things at the same time in order to book tickets. It all worked out. Last night in order to make up for the days' blandness I decided to drink 5 kingfisher. Delicious.
I have been doing yoga for the past two mornings'. Yoga always makes my life better, ever since I started doing it about 6 months ago. I plan on doing much more and taking it quite seriously but that is another post on another day. Yoga makes my life much better, You should try it. So, back to what I was saying. This morning I woke up at 8 a.m. to make it to a 60min yoga class that began at 8:30. I followed this with the usual street breakfast and Chai. The breakfast consists of a Samosa crushed up with a nice hot chili curry sauce poured on top, served in a leaf bowl. This, with Chai, costs a total of 10Rs, the equivalent of 25 cents. I came back to the hostel room to read a bit and figure out a game pan from the rest of the day. It was only 10 a.m. at this time. I read till about noon and then decided a nice massage, having never head one before in my life, would help me figure stuff out. So for 800Rs, about 15$ I got an hour massage. As relaxed as I was I did not feel the need to shave myself so I went to get a shave. I have not shaved myself since I arrived in india. A straight razor shave done street-side is 30Rs, another 30 cents. It is clean, cheap, smooth, and they massage your face and head to boot. It is incredible. Tonight, after writing you this blog post, while feeling extremely relaxed and refreshed, I plan on watch octopussy, the Bond film. Normally I would not be watching an american film in India but I am Udaipur now and part of the film was shot here. Feeling good!

Trekking

Many things to be said today, but once again no pictures. I am an avid believer in, 'a picture says a thousand words', especially when I, myself, are somewhat limited in time and linguistic poetic-ness. We are in Mt.Abu as I have stated in my previous post. Mt. Abu is the smallest place we have been so far, population 20 000. You may say that this is still a significant amount of people but it feels deserted. It is beautiful. The town is build around Nakki lake, which is said to have come into being by Krishna. Krishna is a reincarnation of Vishnu. Using his, Krishna's, nail he scratched the surface of the earth in order to produce this magnificent body of water. Surrounding the lake are mountains. A few days ago I was unsure whether to call them hills or mountains but after a day's trek into them I can say without doubt , they are mountains. We trekked to 1730m. Above the clouds we looked out on the flat desert land of Rajasthan. Our guide Charles, a native of Mt. Abu was hilarious as well as knowledgeable about the regions' flora and fauna. He did impressions of all the British, French and Korean tourists' he has taken on treks. He did it with impressive accuracy.

We began around 7 in the morning, a jeep took us to the edge of a national park but could not take us further for it is prohibited. We trekked for about 3 hours before stopping among the tribal community that lies in the hills. these old men would not stop smiling. they though our presence was stupendous. They were men of around 45 who looked 65 but were so happy with their lives. They lived in the hills by choice with their small stone hut and their cows who gave them milk. They said we were huge and laughed at the Indian cricket team, which they listen to through a broken down radio. They said our size and strength outdid the entire teams. They did not speak English but Charles translated. The laughed, we laughed although we did not understand until after the translation.

If I don't publish this now I'll never do it...Sorry folks! Tell more late..Look at photos, the old man from the mountains is there.

Hellllloooooooo. For all you sitcom loving folk that was a Seinfeld reference. Sitcoms are a long gone idea in my mind, unless that is if they are in Hindi and unbearable to watch, which is not necessarily due to the fact that I cannot understand the language.
If by some chance there is a t.v. in the room that I paid $2 cdn a night for, I am pleased, momentarily. I did not watch much t.v. at home so I have no idea why I would watch it here but sometimes it is a nice break no matter where you are. So, I turn it on, trying to relax for 5 minutes before my well deserved rest, to find random Bollywood dancing and singing, WTF! I mean really, it is nuts. The choreography is hilarious with massively over-exaggerated movements and ear-to-ear smiles. To be honest. it is growing on me, although I have no clue what they are saying.

They do not have pop or 'radio' music here. They have classic sitar, which is nice, or Bollywood movie tracks' turned mainstream. It is as if there are no bands other than the ones put together to make the movie soundtracks. Can you imagine if that was the case for North America? We would have all shot ourselves the year the Titanic came out, thanks Celine. Enough with that jazz, let's move on to another tune, but make sure we kick, jump, then turn to the camera and smile, then kick, then jump, and kick whilst turning to the camera and smiling, then slide, hop up, spin, kick-spin, dip, smile, throw in a flip, smile, kick, flip, jump, smile, flip, smile, jump, kick, smile, slide and finish with 7 smiles, 4 kicks, 2 flips and then BANG you are riding a camel while smiling, you flip of and......fade out.


I left Jodhpur yesterday day afternoon but not before drinking 3 bottles of cheap vodka with some Finnish girls to celebrate Finnish Independence. My gut is getting used to IMFL (Indian made foreign Liquor). We all took a great cooking class that lasted 5 hours. We learned how to make all types of dishes and then had a mad feast and filled our bellies. The lady giving us the lesson invited us for morning tea which was lovely, she was amazing. The name of her shop and her lesson was called, spice paradise. I thought it was catchy.


I am in Mt.Abu. It is the place where Indians vacation. It is a lovely town in the hills of Rajasthan. Tomorrow morning at 7 a.m. I am going on a 6 hour trek into the hills and forest. These mountains, depending on which area of the world you are from ,may be mountains or are just high rocky hills, are the homes, of bears, wild boars, monkeys, leopards as well as a handful of other animals. We begin by heading to a lake that is inhabited by 100's of crocodiles.

I am running short on time and this computer does not allow me to upload pictures, too bad. I'll make sure to upload a bunch soon, there are some good ones.

A window

I have chosen not to philosophize too much for you and I will continue on this path for the most part, but today, here is a little something. For the purpose of this example all windows' are see through. There exist a pane of glass. This pane of glass is the main part of the window. It is a curious thought this pane, this window. Windows are to see through just as much as they are to stop things from entering or passing through. Which or what is the essence of a window? It is to allow things like light and sight to pass through or is it to stop cool breezes and bugs from entering. Is it both? Of course it is both but where lies it true essence. Did the ideas coincide? Did someone simultaneously think that a window could let things in as well as keep them out? This blog is essentially a window. I allow what I choose to be seen and felt, and at the same time I choose what is not seen and felt. I am here feeling the air while you are seeing it through a window but not feeling it. Here are a few pictures and comments for the window.

For all the recyclers out there.
They do NOT recycle. They burn their garbage, plastic bottles, bags and all. Every morning or almost every morning people are out sweeping in from of their shops. They sweep the garbage into a pile. Their neighboring shop does the same. They sometime combine the piles and then, they burn them.
Below is a pile all ready to be burned.


The reason it smells like urine all over the streets is because the bathrooms are open urinals with open drainage systems. Half the time people don't even bother to use them, they simply find a corner and let 'er rip as we would on a drunken walk home. The difference is, they do it in broad daylight, on every street in every city, big or small. Here is a picture of a urinal.



Here is where I had breakfast this morning. He is knows as the Omelet-Man. There are motorbikes that whiz by left and right.





I have also added a video to facebook of a young boy playing music in the street. Check it out there.
All of this is in the making, and I am the maker.

A Brief Moment

Note: My last two posts were mediocre attempts to entertain you. I was not inspired, yet chose to post anyway. This, on my part, was a mistake and I am here to redeem myself and dazzle you with fresh ideas and experiences. Back to the basics, the tale of one man setting sail into a sea of millions.

I wish I had brought a tape recorder. I could express my thoughts and feelings to you as they come to me. In the places in which they came to me. It becomes difficult, skewed if you will, my sitting in front of a computer screen hours after the rush of thoughts. It does not allow for things to flow as they did sitting on the walls of an ancient fort, high above the city, overlooking the colourful carts filled with fresh fruits and vegetables, being pulled or pushed by men who live far beyond our definition of poverty. Gazing at the kids flying kites, the auto-rickshaw drivers reupholstering their seats, and the women doing laundry and leaving the beautiful array of coloured saris and cloths to dry on the roofs in the sun. The views are spectacular.

I am presently reading 'the white tiger', a book based in India. It has given me much insight into the lives of ordinary men. I use ordinary loosely here, there is nothing ordinary about India. It gives me insight and motive to ask more questions about the buildings and sewage plans that have not come to be but have been promised by the government. The havelis built by workers, regular men, from money meant for communities but instead kept by crooked politicians. The poor sit hungry and homeless just outside, having built these palaces with money meant for them.

Taylor and I walk through the narrow roads of Jaisalmer to find hundreds of shops filled with colourful bed covers, shawls, scarfs, trousers and shirts. Somehow within these narrow roads a few kids find places to play cricket, to practice their throws and swings. A cow or bull moo-ssies by, a motorbike whizzes through with unthinkable precision, still the kids play on. Taylor and I join in their game. It turns it to more or less a game of catch. For no less than 45 minutes we toss the ball, quickly, the kids pretending to throw the ball behind them in order to cause a wicket (an out in cricket). They are fast and eager. They enjoy our company, encouraging us to keep playing.

Only a foot away from me, as I toss the ball, a bull with horns a foot long stops mid-step. It lowers it's head and and begins to chew an empty silver chip bag -The streets are littered with garbage which the cows and bulls eat. Just then the bull begins to urinate. This bull seemed aged, maybe it's just malnourished but I think the sudden urination was as much of a surprise to him as it was to me.

Cows are owned collectively by neighbourhoods. They use and share milk. The excess is sold to neighbours who do not share the cow.

We went into a Jain temple. Jain is a division of Buddhism. As in temples of Hinduism we had to remove our shoes but there was more here. All leather had to be removed and menstruating women were forbidden to enter. How they can tell I am not sure, but the simple fact that women, during this time, are shunned, was a shock.

I'll change topics now and move to trains, but first, I must tell you that today while walking to the market in Jodhpur, where I am now, I saw, not for the first time, two young children around the age of 4 taking huge shits in the road. They squatted beside the cows chewing garbage, the auto-rickshaw drivers chewing pann, waiting to give rides and the many people walking by, to simply defecate. Bazaar? Not at all, really, it is perfectly normal here. Okay so, trains. The trains are sweaty and hot by day and freezing by night. They are from a fleet of trains made no later than 1960 and if you haven't put together the line of similarity that exists in this country, they are dirty. Everything is dirty. I ask people if they have a garbage, they respond with a yes and throw whatever it is I've handed to them into the street.

Back to the dirty yet fantastic trains. They clunk and bang day and night. In the day, sleeper class, the lowest way to travel while still having a seat, gives you a very minimal place to sit and absolutely no possibility of laying down. The bunks, on which I sleep on night trains, have 5-6 people squished together in the day. There is luggage packed all around us as well as people. The upper berths are piled and packed with people's belongings. There is NO personal space in this entire country. The people, though they may not know each other, cozy up and smile, babbling on to each other while laughing (sometimes at the tall white people's expense). Let's talk about this for a moment.

The people in India, as far as I can tell, are happy. What I mean by this is that people, smile frequently, they laugh constantly and seem quite content. I know that this, considering some peoples' living arrangements, seems hard to believe but it is true. They are peoples' of high spirit.

I am in Jodhpur now. I think this is the most beautiful place which I have been so far on this journey. I want to share with you a moment of peace which I was fortunate enough to have yesterday. I had climbed the rocky hill to the fort which has never been concurred due to it precarious position. I was looking out upon the city, upon the blue houses below. It was close to sunset and the call to prayer began to ring through the city. Upon the hill things seem to stop, all except for the sounds of this call. I cannot describe to you what is being said, I do not know. I do know that the birds, soaring high above the city, seemed to stop, the air became still but the song kept going. The call to prayer comes several time a day and booms through the city. I have heard it many times and have begun to enjoy it, it is soothing, but today it was even more so. It was prefect. There are few moments in my life where I have felt such perfection.

Okay, so here goes another attempt at blogging. I love the blog-O-sphere. I have located a half decent keyboard except that all the keys are in Hindi.

The textile industry is insane here. You are lured into so many shops if you happen to fall victim to the world renowned 'Indian hospitality'. I could tell you so many things on, 'how to tell if your wool is real,' if your silk is real and whether it is mixed with synthetic materials. In Canada it is simple, things are regulated. They have to print what the shirt, shawl, scarf, whatever it may be, is made up of. If they lie or cheat you can return it and take legal action. Here you can be clueless, have no idea what you are being sold, buy it, be cheated and there is nothing you can do about it. Where we are from people might over charge you, but at least you are getting what you paid for. I have heard so many tourists' horror stories about buying fake wool, fake silk, and they had no idea. Who would be the wiser? Unless you are in the business of buying these materials you would not think twice. Me, being a skeptic, not really wanting to buy things, and not knowing anything about the materials happened to be lucky and meet someone that wanted to show me how to tell these things apart. Silk and cotton are both made of protein, like our hair. If you burn hair it smells like hair, if you burn plastic, it.... you guessed it, smells like plastic. I will stop boring you with information that will be of no you use to you in the near or distant future. But, it was interesting to learn. The man, Barsa, explained to me all the different types and mixes of materials which vary greatly in price. What were his motives? His view was not like others, he did not wish to rip off tourist, his shop was in a less touristy place. No one led up to the shop or pressured us into buying. He did not care if tourists bought, he had regulars, Indian people who bought from him. We left his shop with nothing but much more informed that we have ever been about, patterns, natural colouring, materials and so on. Again, I say what I have said in past blog posts, there are good people all over the world.

Cows eat anything. They eat paper, they eat clothes left on the street, it is incredible. Here in a cow eating what may seem like green plant-life, but really, it is just a green shirt.

It is hot out today, almost too hot. The desert sun is beating down and a tall kingfisher is in order. I have to make it until 5 p.m. though.

The Jain temples here in Jaisalmer are more than beautiful. The street are lined with havelis, beautiful homes. All decorated in hand carved sandstone.

Here is a picture of the rat temple I went to just outside of Bikaner. As the title states, it is full of rats. When they run on your feet it is considered good luck. If you happen to see the white rat you should count your lucky stars, they are rare and very sacred. I was not lucky enough to see one but I was definitely surrounded with thousands of your typical grey rodents. Another short post. I will try to embark on many more adventures in order to entertain you.