Some place comfortable

“However, if we aren’t learning something from a new experience, it’s usually because we aren’t paying attention.”-Tom Robbins, Half Asleep in Frog Pajamas
Ah, Puri. I guess there’s good and bad in everything–I didn’t get on the train because it was full, so I did have to wait another day…but then I was assured a seat…so that was nice. Also, I met some good people in Puri, so ok if I had to extend a little. One evening I was sitting on the beach and a German girl came up to me and asked me to watch her things while she took a dip in the ocean. Then, she took out a sketchbook and said, “and this is you”. I had seen her out of the corner of my eye, but I didn’t realize she was drawing me. We talked a while and then a philosophy teacher I’d met from Singapore, Chau, came and joined us. Chau and I grabbed dinner and spoke for a long time, the most philosophical banter I’ve had on my trip yet, very refreshing. On my way back to my guesthouse that evening, a cycle rickshaw driver came up to me on the street and, laughing maniacally, swatted me with a towel before passing on in to the night. I’m…not really sure what that was about.

My next move was a stopover in Chennai. I’d read there wasn’t much to see or do there, but Biu, a girl on the train who was a student there convinced me to stay overnight. Can’t say it was that exciting, but no harm in looking around. Next morning, I took a bus to Pondicherry. Now here was a place I’d heard was great, so I was expecting a lot. This enthusiasm was quickly dashed upon the hot rocks of the high season–all the guesthouses were full. Drenched in sweat, I carried my home through the streets and finally had to settle on a room that was too expensive, but apparently the last in town. Pondicherry and I were off on a bad foot. I sought in vain a way to plan my next move, but for reasons unknown the train station (which I walked 1-2 km to) wouldn’t sell me a ticket, and the bus station (same distance, other direction) was having technical difficulties. But I’m told the bus to Kochi is rarely full, so I shouldn’t need to reserve. Pooped, I hired an auto rickshaw back to my hotel.

“30 rupees!” the guy tells me.

“No thanks, I walked here for free.”

“No! No! It’s too far, impossible to walk.”

“I’m telling you: I. Just. Did. 20 rupees.”

“No, no. Too far.”

So I go to leave and another man comes up and says quietly, “20 rupees OK.” I go with him. As we walk to his tuk-tuk, another pulls alongside us and the driver and smiling, yells, “Do not go with him! He is cheating his fellow!”
“Cheating his fellow?” I say, “He agreed to 20 and his fellow wouldn’t. That isn’t cheating, that’s capitalism, baby.” My spirits are suddenly lifted, bringing to full light a certain me-ism that is my inability to really relax in a place unless my exit is absolutely assured.

It should here be noted that I am at present writing this in my notebook (thanks Kerri) in a park, and a bird has just pooped on me.

Onward. Pondicherry has a distinctly French colonial flare to it, which is a welcomed change of pace insofar as that brings with it easily navigable (albeit numerous) streets. I rented a bike for a few hours one day and decided it was not an objectionable way to get around. I was afraid of the lawless, take no prisoners attitude of Indian traffic, but I daresay I fit in well. It gave me a more thorough look at Pondicherry than I would have had otherwise, and finally a better impression of the mid-sized town. Small towns are one thing, peaceful and charmingly personable, and big cities-I love big cities- are vibrant and full of curiosity, but something about a medium sized town, I don’t know, always seems like it’s mocking me.

That said, it’s a nice walk down the promenade with fresh pineapple stands abundant and the wind-thinned waves vaulting themselves onto land and taking you by surprise if you’re not paying attention, standing too close to the rocks. Nearby is a lovely park of the green and clean variety that everyone seems to agree is a nice way to spend the afternoon. Crow excrement aside, I have to concur. In one corner, there’s a slow and heavy wind chime providing a constant undercurrent of melodies as people sit, talk, play, or stare at the curious white girl who refuses to move from her bench even though the sprinklers have come on.

I do manage to catch the bus to Kochi, an overnighter, and it is not a pleasant experience. Initially I was excited because I had two seats to myself, so I thought for sure I would sleep soundly. Turns out, I couldn’t sleep a wink. Another meism, or maybe this is true of people at large, is that it’s easier to get physically comfortable in smaller spaces. Or I guess more specifically, if options are limited.

In fact, I’d like to see a study to that end, maybe, with prison inmates. If the setup is an empty concrete room in both cases, who would fall asleep first: the person in the 15×20 foot room, or the one in the 3×5? And would the person in the bigger room sleep against the wall? These are the questions I keep myself company with. Doesn’t that sound like a good time?

After hours of contorting my body into positions that would put a yoga master to shame, I discover the best way to go is sitting bolt upright with a scarf tied around my eyes like a bandit to keep the light out. When we reach Kochi, I stumble into the light bleary eyed and sleepy like a child in my refusal to bring myself around to full consciousness; I kind of float off the bus and slosh about looking for my sunglasses, batting my hands at the sun. First order of business is to eat followed by bicycle rentary. I got plugged into a homestay by the driver of my rickshaw, and it’s more than I usually shell out for accommodation, but it’s got a homey feel to it and I have full use of a kitchen, so that should help cut costs. Besides that, I’ve spent today napping. Kochi (Conchin) is actually an island only accessible by ferry, so I’m feeling right pleasant and may stay here a few days.

And in other news, my own heart Dominick Mach left for his Peace Corps staging in Morocco yesterday. He’ll be there for two years, and you can keep up with him by following the bouncing blog link here and read all about his travels and how inspiring I am. Furthermore, my other darling daring friend Emily Clyne leaves for her El Salvadorian Peace Corps adventure in 3 days, and she’s got a spiffy website here, complete with travel blog.