My posts since India haven't been very promising, I realize, but the first week or so was a shitfest.  The cold of Delhi was unexpected, and while the incessance of the Indian taxi driver is renowned, I wasn't prepared for how in my face and ingenuine I felt everyone was being.  Perhaps it was just being in an enormous city in a third world country, but part of me definitely wondered what the hell I was doing in India at all.  My plan had only gotten me this far anyways, in retrospect a slightly silly way to travel, but since leaving India's capital in favor of the warmth of the south, and with a little time to adapt, I'm very glad I stayed.

After Delhi, we caught an overnight train south to Bhopal, a city of some two million recommended to Anthony for its scenic lakes.  Upon arrival, we wandered through a residential area where a gang of kids gathered as we walked around looking for something to eat.  Those little kids, man, they must have never seen a white person in their neighborhood before because they were following us, running ahead of us to grab their friends, and shouting Hello!  Hello!  Giggling, Anthony and I ducked through alleyways decked out in trash and circled back to our starting point outside the train station to figure out where we might find a guesthouse.  Manuevering through the insane traffic of auto rickshaws and motorbikes with their ceaseless honking, we learned that Bhopal was booked full, and the only room we could find was overpriced, but we took it anyways.  Almost immediately, just getting through the damned traffic and being harried by taxi drivers again, we realized what a mistake it was to go there.  Evidently, there's not much happenin' in Bhopal, and the 'scenic lakes' Anthony had heard about were polluted and not very scenic.  Anthony was also sick, a predicament pleasant to no one.  We pretty much stayed in Bhopal for one day before deciding to hop a bus to Sanchi, famed for its millenia old stupas.

I actually quite liked Sanchi; despite bursting into tears because I hate the Archeological Survey of India's co-opting of the stupas and charging foreigners the ridiculous rate of R250 to the Indian R10, Sanchi was a lovely place.  Rather than fall prey to that tourist trap crap, Anthony and I explored the country roads near where we stayed at the Mahabodhi Sri Lanka.... place.  I forget the exact name and forgot my journal at our current room at the ashram in Pondy.  Anyways, Sanchi was quiet and warm, and the country was verdant and spread all over.  I wish I knew what they were growing, maybe rice?  Sometimes, people would pass us on their motorbikes, the ladies riding sidesaddle would gaze quizzically at us and wave a shy hello, and men would honk and shout hello as they burst past us.  We walked to a tiny village and sat in the shade of some temple, watching some kids pass the time and a cowherd with his herd go by.  Oddly, despite the absolute peace of the place, some young dudes on a motorbike told us the place wasn't safe and that we'd do better to go back to our tourist thing, like the stupas (puh-lease.)  We never figured out what the hell they could have been warning us against, but all we saw was nice farmers in the field, women gathering water from well pumps, and other ladies forming cow dung into patties to dry in the sun for later use as fire fuel.  Nothing we could see presented us any danger, but at some point Anthony and I headed back to the main part of Sanchi.

Our accommodation in Sanchi at the Mahabodhi namenamename place periodically had monkeys swinging through the trees, and two loving guard dogs that enjoyed cuddling.  In the market across the street, Anthony and I had our meals in various places.  I'm not sure why, but making toast is a bit of a struggle out here.  I should be eating more adventurously, but my guts do protest sometimes.  However!  Only in Sanchi have I seen a man offering boiled eggs from a cart, and when we were too late for dinner at the restaurants in the market, he was a treasure.  Egg Man also had manners and a great smile, so after eating his eggs with a bit of masala, when we said thank you, he was the only person so far to say you're welcome, and it was such a pleasure, let me tell you.  I loved the Egg Man so much that I dreamed of his eggs; someone told me they were the way towards detachment, and I saw clearly his string for cutting the eggs in half.  I'm not sure what the hell that dream means, but it was kinda fun anyways, and when I went back to the Egg Man the next evening, I told him his eggs are my favorite and that I dreamed about them.  His limited English meant that my dream confession left him with a confused, but genial expression on his face.  Oh well, the barriers of language.  I'll have to learn some Hindi at least, while I'm here.

Hmm.  Anthony and I should be getting back to the ashram for curfew soon...

When Anthony and I decided to forgo visiting the stupas, and following our wander through the backroads, we decided it was time to move on and find something to keep us occupied for a bit longer, something to help us feel like our traveling is productive and not just mindless.  Currently, we are in Pondicherry following another overnight train south out of Bhopal to Chennai, topped with a 3 hour bus ride in a bus with the AC cranked to refrigeration.  Haha, our train was also running about 6 hours late (oh, India, I am beginning to calm down and love you for being you.)

I'll have to regail one and all with tales of Pondy later, but we've found an organic farm we volunteered at today and might move to shortly to help with preparation for their upcoming ecomusic (?) festival.

<3