Three weeks into my trip (read "trip", no drugs needed) I was at the Patna airport. My question to the ticket agent: "What is your next flight to pretty much anywhere out of India, preferably Thailand or Hawaii, someplace with internet access where I can update my blog and no one will be the wiser?"
One week after that: Oh my Brahma, one more month will not be sufficient. Oh no way. This is way too fun and painful in a good way. Now I am grooving and jiving to the India I thought I was expecting.
With less than one week to go, I was getting ready for the In-N-Out and lasagna. I must admit.
Now three weeks back in USA, I wish I were there. India calls "Coconut, with chicken-like skin, come home to us."
I liked my India problems. As we say in the geology world, "the worst day in the field is better than the best day in the office."
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Combing all this out
Water
So. Here I am in USA. Walked off the Cathay Pacific aeroplane gangplank. Gangplank - what a description for entering the airport. And entering the aeroplane. Shiva on a lingam. Get me outta here.
So the first object I spy is a water fountain stuck on a wall. "Oh my, a water fountain. Jeez, what the hell is that? Holy crimeny, what can I do? Drink out of that? Is it safe? Is it safe?" (visions of the dentist, Dustin Hoffman, Running Man, amoebic dysentery). Then I realize I'm in the USA. I can slurp away at the fountain of chlorinated water. I even remember my usual paradigm: Press button, let water blast any luggies out of the pipes into the drain, and voila, nice, fresh, water-board-regulated clean water. Oh so much faith I have in our public works.
Yummy.
Pleasanton
Where the living hell am I? I'm died and gone to the Muslim world of 77 virgins (or is it 72? Inflation you know). Clear roads. Almost mausoleum quiet. Trees lining the streets. People talking on cell phones - I need to lean in to make out their conversations. Citizens dressed the same. No flowing saris. Kinda miss the colors. Since it's cold I haven't seen the usual California low-riser jeans with tight shirts and female form that I've been been starved of. Amazing, didn't know how much I missed that. Not! Had to say "not" - sorry.
I almost went into an agoraphobic, anxiety panic attack. When are all the people? The people have been snatched away by the neutron bomb. I feel exposed, no warm bodies to hide amongst. Not even the crazy anoyance of being "pushed" out of line or having 50 cabbies rush me at the airport. I haven't even whipped out my Lonely Planet once. Don't need to, I feel lonely.
Although I am in the presence in loving and caring family and that makes up for the crush of hordes of unknown, un-named people. Very awesome.
What next?
Sleeping. Try that when there has been two months of constant auditory input. How do you get this experience? Set up a tent next to a railroad switching yard, but it needs to be near an active land fill with Cat D-11 dozers working the fill, and under the approach path of an airport, but don't forget to add the downtown financial district of New York's taxis and people. Then rapidly, like the vaudville movie dude pulling the table cloth from under the plates, wine , and silverwave, you are plunked into nice, pink cotton candy. Brain turns to "what do I do next?" Gotta get outta here!"
Solution: Sleep with the iPod radio on (because the earplugs create a brain-sensory deprivation chamber), turn on the flashing computer screen saver, open the windows with a view to the sky and the distant din of train clacks and horns. Now, ahh, peace and calmness and few anti-anxiety pills and sleep comes naturally at 11 am in the morning.
So. Here I am in USA. Walked off the Cathay Pacific aeroplane gangplank. Gangplank - what a description for entering the airport. And entering the aeroplane. Shiva on a lingam. Get me outta here.
So the first object I spy is a water fountain stuck on a wall. "Oh my, a water fountain. Jeez, what the hell is that? Holy crimeny, what can I do? Drink out of that? Is it safe? Is it safe?" (visions of the dentist, Dustin Hoffman, Running Man, amoebic dysentery). Then I realize I'm in the USA. I can slurp away at the fountain of chlorinated water. I even remember my usual paradigm: Press button, let water blast any luggies out of the pipes into the drain, and voila, nice, fresh, water-board-regulated clean water. Oh so much faith I have in our public works.
Yummy.
Pleasanton
Where the living hell am I? I'm died and gone to the Muslim world of 77 virgins (or is it 72? Inflation you know). Clear roads. Almost mausoleum quiet. Trees lining the streets. People talking on cell phones - I need to lean in to make out their conversations. Citizens dressed the same. No flowing saris. Kinda miss the colors. Since it's cold I haven't seen the usual California low-riser jeans with tight shirts and female form that I've been been starved of. Amazing, didn't know how much I missed that. Not! Had to say "not" - sorry.
I almost went into an agoraphobic, anxiety panic attack. When are all the people? The people have been snatched away by the neutron bomb. I feel exposed, no warm bodies to hide amongst. Not even the crazy anoyance of being "pushed" out of line or having 50 cabbies rush me at the airport. I haven't even whipped out my Lonely Planet once. Don't need to, I feel lonely.
Although I am in the presence in loving and caring family and that makes up for the crush of hordes of unknown, un-named people. Very awesome.
What next?
Sleeping. Try that when there has been two months of constant auditory input. How do you get this experience? Set up a tent next to a railroad switching yard, but it needs to be near an active land fill with Cat D-11 dozers working the fill, and under the approach path of an airport, but don't forget to add the downtown financial district of New York's taxis and people. Then rapidly, like the vaudville movie dude pulling the table cloth from under the plates, wine , and silverwave, you are plunked into nice, pink cotton candy. Brain turns to "what do I do next?" Gotta get outta here!"
Solution: Sleep with the iPod radio on (because the earplugs create a brain-sensory deprivation chamber), turn on the flashing computer screen saver, open the windows with a view to the sky and the distant din of train clacks and horns. Now, ahh, peace and calmness and few anti-anxiety pills and sleep comes naturally at 11 am in the morning.
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