Plethora

So, I don't really have one topic or anything in mind for this post. I thought I would talk briefly about a few different things. But, before I start I have an idea. How about, if all of you who read this agree, you guys ask questions (if you have any) via the comment section. I will then respond to your questions to the best of my ability. That way I have topics to write about and you all will have your questions answered.

Anyways, maybe that will work, and if not I won't hold it against any of you!

So here we go.

The Shy Dutchwoman(man)

Freek (see photo) is not a shy guy. When he came to America he made friends easier than most people wake up in the morning. Although I knew mentally that all Dutch people aren't like Freek some part of me insisted that they would be. Basically, I imagined myself meeting a whole country full of exited, extroverted Dutch people, who would be more than willing to talk to me in English. Well, it hasn't quite been that way. Freek's friends are really great people. But they are a bit shy around me. Some of them are more outgoing than other, but overall I spend a lot of time listening to people talking in Dutch. I'm not complaining at all, I totally understand. But it's interesting to compare and contrast the way Freek says they act around him (extroverted, etc) and how they act around me (like they don't talk in English). Obviously many of them have loosened up with time (or alcohol), but I'm not going to lie, I spend a lot of time trying to understand Dutch. Which, brings me to my next mini-point.

The Language Barrier

The last couple of months I've spent a lot of time not understanding what people are talking about. In a way it's really nice. I'm not held to the same standards as everyone else. When people are arguing or trying to plan something, I can just stand there with a dumb grin on my face and pick my nose. It's awesome. But, at the same time I get the feeling I miss out on a lot. Oops, I'm straying from my point. SO, in both India and Holland, while listening to people jabber away in their native tongue I've always felt like I could almost understand what they are saying. It felt like if I just relaxed my mind a little of something I would understand it all. Of course I haven't been able to, but it's interesting. You can tell, just by listening, that the weird words they are saying have meaning. I imagine this is true with any language.

Sex(uality)

When I first got to Holland I kind of felt like what a conservative Christian farm boy might feel like if they suddenly landed in Las Vegas. There were so many pictures and posters of nearly naked women. I couldn't help but stare, but not in the usual way that I stare, this time I was staring just out of sheer amazement. In India they aren't allowed to show people kissing in movies. The most revealing film shot is the the famous wet Sari shot (any Indian movie worth it's salt (I bet that saying comes from a time when salt was expensive) has a wet sari scene). I've gotten used to it pretty quickly, I mean I was born in the heartland of sexuality as advertisement (aka the USA) it's in my blood, when I see a women in a bikini I immediately think about either shampoo, vodka or the retail value of the bikini. I can't help it.

All this aside I have a confession. The naked advertisement women are definitely hot, but like some famous person said, “It's just tits and ass”. I find it a lot more exciting and intriguing to see a beautiful woman that is wearing slightly revealing (yet beautiful) clothing. It's so more interesting, I think.

The Legal Beer

Another thing that has surprised me about Holland is how legal alcohol is. I mean, me, Eli Francovich, the 19-year-old kid, can walk into a Dutch pub, throw some Euros down, and drink a beer. Wow. It's awesome. I no longer have to sit in my room, drinking beer from a lemonade bottle. A couple nights ago I went out to a pub with Freek and a bunch of his friends. There was music, dancing, beer and conversation. And it was all legal. In Couer d' Alene the only place I can dance is in my room, the only place I can have a conversation (after 9 pm) is a coffee shop and the only place I can have a legal beer is... no where.

I know alcohol is evil (until you turn 21, then it's not evil anymore) but I can't help but think that maybe things would be better if people were allowed to drink a little bit earlier. At the Pub I went to some people had quite a bit of alcohol, but no one was out of control (as far as I know). In the books that I read that talk about underage drinking parties in America there is a lot of out of control behavior. People throw up in plants, on coaches and on each other. It's disgusting. It's one of the biggest problems facing America's youth, vomit. Every year millions of dollars are spent cleaning out clothes, buying new plants and having coaches cleaned. If we could save all that money we would be able to balance the national deficit in at least 100 years. Oops, I'm deviating from my purpose. Where was I? Oh yes. So, perhaps, if the USA was to lower the drinking age maybe people would learn how to drink responsibly. Maybe not. Maybe we would just have a lot of bing drinking high schoolers (which we don't have now). But if nothing else, I would be able to go out on Friday night in Coeur d' Alene and do something besides wander up and down Sherman trying to get the courage to try and sneak into a bar.

If facts and evidence don't support my hypothesis, don't tell me. I don't have any serious legislative power so you might as well let me believe lowering the drinking age would accomplish something.

Money

Wow, this post has it all, sex, money, beer and language. Actually this is a post in response to a question asked by Terri Simmons on my comment page (that is how I got the idea for an interactive blog). She asked how I've been budgeting my money. So in response: I don't really have a budget plan. I worked over the summer and in the fall a bit. But more importantly I graduated from highschool and my extended family and friends were incredibly generous in my graduation/travel gifts. So I left America with about $3,000 in my account. While in India my mother paid for everything (and my father, he stayed home and worked and gave money to my mom and I). So I arrived in Holland with almost all of that $3,000. In Holland I don't have to pay for a place to stay, but Freek and I are splitting food costs. That hasn't been too expensive. We usually eat for about 4 Euro a day. Transportation in Holland is very expensive (compared to India at least). But I have the money so it's not a problem. The exchange rate isn't favorable (as of today one dollar equals one Euro and 33 cents) but like I said I have the money and my expenses aren't too bad.

The End

OK, that is it. Please let me know if there is anything you want to hear/learn about.

Some Dutch sights

Hello Holland

Hey, well it's been a while. I've been in Holland for a week now. I meant to write earlier but it's been busy. So I will try to convey what I've been experiencing as accurately as possible.

The flight from India to Holland was uneventful. I watched some movies, slept and talked to my neighbor. Although I barely slept I wasn't tired at all. I was really excited to get off the plane and see Holland.

I'm staying with a guy named Freek. He was a foreign exchange student at my high school in junior year and we became friends. He was going to meet me at the airport with another friend, Chelsey Bowes, with whom we had both gone to school. Chelsey was going to be in Holland for 10 days. It was her spring break trip.

There was a mix up about where we were going to meet, so I ended up sitting by the train station for two hours, while they waited for me at my gate. I read a book and began to try to assimilate this new culture.

The first thing that I noticed about being in Holland was how nicely everyone was dressed. In India I had always felt well dressed, maybe even a little over dressed. Being in the Amsterdam airport showed me the reality of the situation. I looked like a hobo. I had filthy khaki shorts on, a ratty button-up t-shirt and flip flops.

The second thing that I noticed about Holland was how cold it is. When I had left India, at 1:35 am it had been 90 degrees. The temperature in Holland when I arrived was 50 degrees, and it was a warm day. Needless to say I didn't stay in flip-flops for long.

When I finally met up with Freek and Chelsey we had a nice little reunion and then we went out to catch the bus.

The bus was clean, quiet, safe and almost empty. I couldn't believe it. The roads we were driving on were wide, well marked, well maintained and all the vehicles were following the traffic rules. I really couldn't believe it.

The next couple of days are a blur. The whole time I felt like a ghost. I didn't really know where my place was in the culture. Freek had to study for a final exam so Chelsey and I spent a lot of time exploring different cities. We were staying at Freek's parent's house, which was small by American standards, but decadent by Indian standards. Occasionally while walking around I would switch back to my India vision, I would be mesmerized by a billboard or a garbage can, or something else that equally mundane in Holland, yet spectacular in India.

Chelsey left last Saturday. I'm now living in Sittard (Freek's parents live in Alphen de Rhine). Freek has an apartment here, which is where I currently call home.

It's interesting the Dutch culture doesn't hit me over the head the way India did. It's a lot more familiar. But it is still quite a bit different.

Here are a few of the differences I've observed:

1. smaller houses
2. smaller cars
3. smaller portions of food
4. cloths are expensive (I wanted to buy some jeans but I couldn't find anything under 50 euros)
5. food is cheaper than in the U.S.
6. Transportation is easy and efficient, but a little expensive
7. people bike everywhere

I learned yesterday that Holland is the second most crowded country in the world. It makes sense then that everything is smaller, they don't have room to build and build. They have to be creative with their space.

That reminds me of another thing that is different in Holland than in India and the United States. The cities and towns are all planned looking. Everything fits together. Freek's dad is an urban planner, this means his job is to make everything fit together. He explained some of the work he does and it sounds fascinating. Because there are so many old building in Holland there are a lot of rules stipulating how they should be protected. Leon's (Freek's dad) job is to (among other things) help design cities and town that are modern and convenient, but also blend in with the older buildings. You can't help but notice it. It's everywhere you go. I haven't seen any of the disease like urban sprawl that is beginning to characterize the Rathdrum Prairie.

Although I'm really enjoying being in Holland part of me misses India still. However, it's nice to be able to have a cup of coffee or a beer. It's also nice to be able to go out and walk around and not be harassed by twenty different people.

I'll be in Holland for about a month and a half. After that I'm going to Germany and France. I still don't know how I'm going to get there, I've heard about something called EuroBus, which sounds really cheap, so I might look into that. For now that is all!

Motorcycle ride in Pondicherry

Hey, so I took this video a few months ago, however, due to slow internet I wasn't able to post it. So now that I'm in Holland I'm able to post, so here it is! I'll have a new blog up soon, it's just been a little busy here in Holland. Ok adios.

Last day in India

Goodbye India

Right now I'm sitting in a Dutch household, drinking coffee, eating yogurt and listening to Jazz music. The last 48 hours I've spent in transit, traveling thousands of miles. At 1:35 on Tuesday morning I climbed onto an airplane in the muggy heat of Bombay (Mumbai), India. Ten hours and ten minutes later I climbed out in Holland. The transition is very strange. I feel like a ghost. Everything in Holland is so clean and spacious. The people are all so orderly in their appearance. I'm shocked by my own culture.

Goodbye India
I spent the last two days in India traveling and exploring Mumbai. On Sunday, March 15 I took a train from Gokarna to Mumbai. It was an overnight train. I had reserved a sleeper class coach, which means I would have a bed to sleep on. However, as it turned out I ended up sharing my bed with two other Indian men. They had no place to sit or sleep because there tickets were never confirmed. So, I slept a few hours crammed in between these two men and the wall.

I got off the train in Mumbai at 6 am. I had been invited to spend the day at a man named Abhay's house. I had met him on the train two days earlier, and he had offered to put me up for the day.

Just saying that I agreed to spend the day at a strangers house makes it sounds like a really bad idea. However, the man was so kind and so genuine it felt like the only logical decision.

I stumbled off the overnight train into early morning Mumbai. It was relatively quite (by Indian standards) but still busy. I had vague directions to Abhay's house. I had to take an inter-city train five stops forward. From there Abhay would meet me. I found the train that I believed was the right one. It was pulling away so I ran and jumped on board. Only later did I realize that I hadn't purchased a ticket. Luckily for me no one checked.

It took about one hour to get to where I needed to be going. I never really relaxed. I was always kind of nervous that I was going to end up in the completely wrong place. However, it all worked out. I got off the train in a place called Dombivli (East).

Abhay met me and we took a rickshaw back to his apartment. It was a small but clean and orderly. Abhay is a civil engineer and makes a good living. We immediately sat down and started having tea.

I learned that Dombivili is a completely separate city from Mumbai. In fact there are two cities near Mumbai that are slowly merging with the giant that Mumbai is becoming (there are 130,000 people per km).

Abhay works down town in a 250-year-old building. I traveled with him into town, to both see where he works, and to see a bit of Mumbai. It was really interesting to see how an India bureaucrat manages his day. Abhay and I didn't head into Mumbai until 10 am. We got there at about 11 am and immediately sat down to have some tea. After tea we went and met his co-workers. After talking with them for about an hour we decided it was about time to have some lunch. So, we ordered lunch. Actually to be more precise they ordered me a deluxe lunch. They ate their home-made lunches, but I, being the guest, got the deluxe meal. It was delicious.

So, after lunch I figured that Abhay would begin working and I would be on my own. Wrong. Instead we got a taxi (he paid) and we went down town. He spent another hour showing me around. He showed me where the usual Mubai sites.

Finally he headed back to work. It was 2 pm and we were going to meet up again at 5 pm. I spent the time walking around just soaking up the sights. There were tons of Westerners and all of the associated characters. I was offered all sorts of drugs, jewelery, sex and spiritual salvation.

We met up again and headed to the train station, ready to go back home. By my calculations Abhay spent maybe three solid hours working that day. But I'm sure that he had a tea break at some point.

Riding on city trains is a completely new experience. Long distance trains are a bit crazy when viewed from a Western perspective. They are usually late and always crowded, but you have a seat and are able to relax. Inter-city trains are a different beast all together.

I realized that it was going to be a new type of experience simply standing on the platform waiting for the train to arrive. There were, literally, thousands of people in my direct line of site. Swirling masses of humanity running and pushing. They were all there to either get on a train, or get off a train.

When our train arrived there were people hanging out of the doors. Before it had even stopped men came flying off the train. They would leap from the moving train and land, running on the crowded platform. After the train stopped the more conservative train riders jumped down. It was a tide of humanity pouring out of the carriage. As they poured out, we began to race in. It was an amazing feelings. Suddenly I couldn't stand still. There were too many people pushing me from behind. I had no choice. If I had been more rigid and less accepting of the changing circumstances I might have been hurt. As it was there was no problem. I battled my way through the crowd, pushing and clawing my way onto the train. Men were yelling, cursing and nearly fighting. I found a spot to stand and the train pulled away from the station. From the moment that their spots were assured the same men that were fighting each other seconds ago were best friends. They began talking and laughing. It was an amazing change.

And so there I was. Jammed into a mass of humanity. There was no room to move. I have pictures that I will post, but they don't do justice to the situation. In my carriage alone I bet there were 300 men (women have separate carriages so that they can fight each other). The ride took about an hour. It was uncomfortable, but I loved it. I talked to my neighbors (I had about ten) and just soaked up the closeness of it all. It's so much different than in the west. Us westerners require so much personal space.

Once we arrived back at Abhay's house we did some shopping and then headed back to have dinner. I was planning on leaving his house for the airport at 9 pm (my plane arrived at 1:35 am). We talked and they fed me a delicious dinner. I was stuffed. The pushed food on me like crack dealer push crack on little kids. It was great. It was particularly nice because the day before, to conserve money, I hadn't eaten anything but bananas and apples. So, I was primed to be stuffed full of food.

One interesting thing about eating with them was that his wife didn't eat with us. She served us the whole time. I can only imagine she ate afterward. For me it just seemed weird. I would have much preferred to have her eat with us, but I guess “when in Rome, do as the Romans do” applies here.

After dinner I was force fed dessert. I had insisted on buying them some ice cream as a present. They hadn't allowed me to buy anything else all day so I figured that the least I could do was buy them a treat. Ice cream is expensive in India and most families only have it once or twice a year.

Well I misjudged their cleverness as hosts. They allowed me to buy the ice cream, but then they served me the majority of it. Poor me! Anyways I was stuffed and it was time to go. Abhay had told me how to get to the airport. It involved taking a train for about an hour and then taking a rickshaw. I felt confident that I could do it and was ready to head out into the night solo. However, his duties as a host weren't quite done. He was very nervous about me going alone and subsequently transferred some of that nervousness to me. Normally I wouldn't have been bothered at all, however, after talking to him for a bit I was sure I would be raped, mugged and that I would miss my flight.

So, when he finally insisted on accompanying me on the train I didn't object too much. Of course he paid for the train ticket and helped me find a rickshaw driver. And then we parted.

And I was left alone for the last time in India. The rickshaw ride was long one and it was intense. The roads were terrible, pitted and filthy the traffic was insane. Their were slums on spilling over into the road. And I was in India. I don't love the poverty, or the filthiness. But I love India. I don't know why I love India. I certainly don't love the slums or the poverty, but somehow, when thinking about 'India' and not just the bad aspects I love it.

We finally arrived at the airport. I was dumb and told the driver to drop me off at, what I thought, was the front of the airport. The traffic was very heavy so I didn't want him to have to get sucked into it. Well, it turned out where I got dropped off was about 3 km from the actual airport, so I ended up walking.

I got to there finally and started the long process of checking in. At some point, while filling out one form or another, I realized I was drenched in sweat. My entire shirt was wet from the walk But, more importantly, I realized people were staring at my shirt. I was already beginning to leave India.

From there on out it was fairly uneventful. I flew out of India at 1:35 am. I was sad to go, but looking forward to the next phase of my trip. Hello Holland!

A blank state

Just recently an Indian told me I look like Prince Harry. The Prince of England. I took the compliment(?) in stride, but I was a bit non-plussed. The only thing I really know about Prince Harry is that he made some racist remarks while in Iraq and had to formally apologize. I think I saw a picture of him once and I believe he has red hair. But I guess I look like him.

This kind of thing has happened before. While in a gym an Indian man told me I looked like Brad Pitt. Other than the bicep size I don't see any resemblance, but somehow this man did. Another man asked me if I was a soldier. Another asked me if I was a Hollywood star.

At first I simply accepted these comments at face value. I was a little bit proud to be asked if I was a movie star etc. But then I began to think about it. There is always the possibility that I really do look like Brad Pitt, a soldier, Prince Harry and a Hollywood star. Maybe my friends and family never commented on the striking similarities because I live with them and they simply got used to it. Maybe India just wasn't ready for my rugged good looks.

And then there is another possibility. Maybe us white folks are kind of like blank chalk slates. Indians see us and are immediately able to superimpose all of their preconceived notions about western culture onto our pale skin. Maybe the facts that my nose is about the same size as Prince Harry's and my skin is white were enough to convince that one man that I did in fact look like Prince Harry.

Images, videos and songs about western culture, particularly American culture, abound in India. Maybe they hate our culture or maybe they love it, either way it is deeply ingrained in their national physique. So, when they see a real live westerner they apply their base of knowledge to that individual. And, generally speaking, their base of knowledge about western culture is derived from television, movies and music. So, maybe that is why I haven't been told I look like Mark Twain, but instead like Brad Pitt.

It's a nice theory and I think it probably applies to most people, however, in my case I really do look like Brad Pitt, a soldier, Prince Henry and a Hollywood star (redundant, I know). So whatever.

Photos from Cuddle Beach

A busy day

This day was packed. It's probably the single most action packed day of my meager 19 years on this earth.

Today started for me at 12:01 am. I was still awake lying in my bed at Annanda Ashram. I was being slowly but surely eaten to death by something. My forearms were covered in bug bites and felt like they were on fire. They weren't mosquito bits so I can only assume that I was being attacked by bed bugs. I took two showers over the course of the night. I tried all sorts of ways of sleeping etc. All for naught. I finally gave up and climbed out of bed at 5 am.

I went and partook in some of the early morning ashram stuff. There was chanting and other Hindu rituals. I then had breakfast. Then I took a nap. It's amazing how much better I felt after a 20 minute nap.

My train from Khanangod left at 11 am. I arrived quite a bit early (on accident, I thought I was late) and ended up sitting in the sun for twenty minutes. Once I was finally on the train there was some confusion about where I was supposed to be sitting, however, it was fairly easy to sort out and no harm befell anyone.

That leg of the journey was pretty quick. I think I was on the train for maybe an hour and a half or even less. Once I arrived at Mangalore things began to slow down. Because I had to switch trains I had a two and a half layover. I got some coffee and water and decided to take a little nap on the floor.

What I noticed sitting on the floor was how much attention I got. I'm used to a bit of attention simply because I'm white. However, seeing a white guy sitting on the floor of a train station was a bit too much for many of the passing Indians. They gawked. It made sleeping a bit uncomfortable.

I eventually gave up on sleeping and found a bench to sit on. My bench neighbor was a young guy from Mumbai. We began talking and he explained the best way to get a train from Gokarna Road (where I am now) to Mumbai. Before talking to him I had been planning on leaving on the 16th and getting to Mumbai in time for my 1:35 am flight on the 17th. However, it turns out that it's a 12 hour train ride. There is a daily train at 6:00 pm. So, if I had gone with my original plan I would have missed my plane by a good four hours.

The train to Gokarna arrived and I jumped on board. I was shuffled from seat to seat until I finally found my promised land. Things quited down for a bit. I slept, read and listened to music.

I was still kind of disappointed that I would have to spend a whole day in Mumbai's airport. I thought about seeing the sights of Mumbai, but that sounded like a pain in the ass with all my stuff and no place to store it. So, I resigned myself to spending my last day in India inside an airport.

And then I saw this guy from the ashram. I had noticed him because he seemed really kind. He just had a kind face. We hadn't talked or anything but I just got a good vibe from him. He saw me and immediately sat down. We began talking, introducing ourselves etc. It turns out he lives in Mumbai. He asked me if I was going to Mumbai. I told him my situation and he immediately invited me to spend the day at his house. I went with my instincts and took him up on his offer.

Maybe that is stupid of me. But like I said he has a kind face. And a wife and kids. So he can't be a bad guy right? Right...

Anyways, I agreed to that. I told him I would call him before I arrived in Mumbai. I feel good about it and it would sure beat staying in the airport.

Wow. What a day. But it isn't over. Today was like watching a Lord of the Ring's movie. You just keep thinking it's going to end and it doesn't.

I got off the train. I was immediately assailed by rickshaw drivers promising me all kinds of great deals. I made my way to the front of the train station where I had heard there is a shuttle to town (town is about 10 km away). Sure enough there was a shuttle. It only cost rs 25 and it looked like a marginally operational vehicle. We waited about ten minutes for it to fill up and headed off. By the time we headed out there were 13 people plus luggage jammed into a van about the size of a Subaru station wagon. Six of the 13 were westerners. My fellow 'whities' all had dreadlocks. They were all wearing tank tops and other tough looking cloths. They all had tattoos. I'm sure they all smoke cigarettes. I felt like such a tool in my button up collar shirt, khaki shorts and flip flops.

We bounced through the night. It is so odd going to a place you have never been to before. Especially at night. I had no idea where I was going or what to expect. We finally reached the town proper. It was pitch black. OK, not pitch black there were some lights. But mostly it was black. I later learned there was a power outage, but as far as first impressions go I was not impressed.

We were thrown out of the shuttle and onto the street. I grabbed my stuff and immediately began walking in a very purposeful manner. I've found that if you look like you know what the hell you are doing people leave you alone. Needless to say I had no idea what I was doing. I finally stopped near a slightly brighter section of street and pulled out my guide book.

The town of Gokarna itself is about 6 km from the beach. There are two main beaches, Om Beach and Cuddle Beach. Lonely Planet said you could get beach side huts for less than rs 200. I was dead set on getting me one of those beach side huts. So, I grabbed my stuff, hailed a rickshaw, and hit the road again.

The rickshaw cost about rs 130 (I bargained him down from rs 150). It seemed like a lot to me. I'm used to paying less than rs 50 for rickshaws, but it's a long ride.

We drove through the night. There were few electric lights. I felt like I was in the middle of the jungle. The road was narrow and became increasingly steep. It was hair pin turns all the way. I began to wonder if perhaps my driver was going to take me into the wilderness and kill me or something.

Finally, we reached the highest point of the road. The moon was brilliant (I think it was the full moon). My driver pointed to a fairly lit area of beach. I could see huts and there was even electricity. That is Om Beach. He then pointed to a black stretch of emptiness. That was Cuddle Beach. For some inexplicable reason I said I wanted to go to Cuddle Beach. I think I had read about it or something and my preconceived notions temporarily overwhelmed the reality that was facing me.

So, we turned off the main road. The new road we were on could hardly be called a road. There was cement every twenty or thirty feet but nothing continuous. In fact the majority of the road felt as if it was made out of pot holes.

I was really kicking myself now. Thoughts like “What the hell were you thinking, do you want to die young?” kept running through my mind.

We bounced along this road (which was also narrow and had a nearly sheer drop on one side) for about 10 minutes. Finally we stopped. It was pitch black. The driver told me, that from here I would have to walk to Cuddle Beach. The only other person there was another rickshaw driver. I decided this was the moment where they attacked and robbed me. I figured that it would be best to go down fighting so I took my 'Pen' (remember it's actually a screwdriver) out of it's holster and prepared to fight.

Then the rickshaw driver showed me the path to Cuddle Beach. It was (like I've said before) pitch black. The path was narrow and steep (like every road in Gokarna). After seeing that path I decided I had a better chance of fighting two Indian rickshaw drivers. But I had no choice. I headed into the wilderness.

The path crawled between rocks and tropical plants. The moon was bright but the trees protected the path from the light of the moon. I couldn't help but think about what everyone had told me. People say India is a very safe country to travel in if you are around crowds. But, these same people say that you should never go anywhere on your own. Well, here I was, walking through the jungle, somewhere on the West coast of India, with all my valuables, hoping to find a place to stay.

Shit.

Well I made it. I came out of the jungle and onto a beautiful expanse of moonlit beach. Couples were cuddling (Ha ha get it Cuddle Beach) in the moon light. I found the nearest room for rent and claimed it for my own. It costs rs 150 and is pretty rough. It doesn't have an attached bathroom. It's one room with a filthy bed and a stinky mosquito net. It felt like heaven.

I walked along the beach a bit and found a place to eat. I had Vegetable Chowmein. It was pretty weird to eat Chinese food at 9 pm in India but it tasted good.

Then I finally went to bed. It was a little complicated working out the best way to avoid touching the mattress, which I'm sure is home to many bugs, but it worked out. I ended up not using the mosquito net and instead just turned on the fan, which did a good job of keeping me cool and keeping the mosquitoes at bay.

And I went to sleep.

And then I woke up. I'm not sure what time it was, perhaps it was the next day, but just barely. Something was biting my toe. Not a bug. Like an animal was biting my toe. Holy shit. An animal is eating my foot. I was surprisingly calm. I jumped out of bed and turned on the light. And... it was a kitten. It had slipped in my window and was cuddling (and nibbling on my toes) with me. I couldn't believe it. In my half conscious state I briefly considered throwing it out (on the basis that it might have lice, fleas or some weird cat disease that I might catch). I decided to let it stay. It slept with me the whole night. Sometimes down by my feet, other times up by my face. When I woke up in the morning it was gone. As silly as this sounds it made me miss my cat.

So, it was quite a day. In the morning I was able to see where exactly I was staying. It's beautiful. I will try to put some photos up (depends on the Internet speed). Overall I'm glad that I didn't die and that I pushed on through the various obstacles.

The absence of electricity really made me think about how much we humans depend on electricity. Without it the Cuddle Beach seemed like a pretty big, dark and scary place. With it you realize that it's actually a tourist resort full of dreadlocked hippies.

Pictures from Mohammad's B-day

Mohamed's birthday

On the spur of the moment I decided to take an auto rickshaw tour of some of the more famous caves in and around Kanhangod. I have the time and money to spend and the caves sounded intriguing. I got picked up from the Annanda Ashram at 8:30 am.

An interesting side note: Lately I've been sleeping like I've been shot in the head. My alarm doesn't wake me up. The guy who brings tea and coffee to your room at 6 am and pounds on your door doesn't wake me up. I managed to drag myself out of bed at 7:30 am. Just barely in time for breakfast.

Anyways, as we were driving through the town of Kanhangod I noticed a lot of green streamers. My driver told me that it was in celebration of Mohammed's birthday. Like Christmas for Christians. I didn't think much of it at the time.

However, when we were stopped by a crowd of Muslim men, I began to think about it a little more. Images of Muslims firing guns off in celebration of 9/11 flashed through my mind. India has always seemed pretty safe to me. There is a bit of tension (Ok, a lot of tension) in the north, but down south everyone seems to just get along fairly well.

So, I was nervous. I almost asked my driver to just keep going and not stop for them. But you know maybe then they would have blown us up or something.

They surrounded the vehicle and...

… began forcing juice on us. Oh no. My worst nightmare. Too sweet, artificial juice. Please spare me. Over the course of the next two hours we were accosted three times. They almost threw juice and other treats upon us. They were stopping all the traffic. The mood was ecstatic and celebratory. These men (about my age) were the same age as the young men blowing themselves up in Iraq. Here, instead of blowing up vehicles, they were showering us, a Hindu and a white man, with prassad (holy gifts) from Mohamed.

It was pretty amazing. Later I watched a parade. Hundreds of immaculately dressed Muslim men marched through the streets singing and dancing. There were a lot of spectators, however, being the only white guy there I drew a lot of attention. A lot of good attention. They waved, signaled for me to take photos of them and asked my name. It was pretty amazing.

I've heard, from many different people, that Islam is fundamentally violent. That it truly does encourage killing in Allah's name. I refuse to believe that. It doesn't seem possible to me. There are a lot of killing going on in the name of Allah. But, there is a lot of killing going on in the name of capitalism.

And, at the same time that Muslims in south India were giving me juice, Muslims in Iraq were killing American soldiers. And, at the same time that I was taking photos of laughing Muslims in South India, American soldiers were shooting Muslims in Iraq.

What a crazy, flip flopping, thought provoking world.

More photos from the bike trip

Bike trip to the falls

Hey, so about a week ago I went on another bike trip. I went with a guy named Aaron and a woman named Jennifer. The trip was about a four hour drive there and back. We went up into this mountain range and found some waterfalls. Although there wasn't a ton of water there was enough to swim in. So that was really nice and refreshing. The landscape was really beutiful and clean. It felt and looked like somewhere in the United States! So that is what all these photos are about.

Kerala State

I left Tiruvenmali two days ago. I was glad I had spent so much time there but I was ready to leave. I was taking an overnight train to Kananghad, which is a town in the state of Kerala. The train left from Vellore (about two hours by bus from Tiruvenmali) at 10:45 pm. I was meeting a friend that I had met the previous month on the train. We would be traveling together for a couple of days.

Getting to Vellore was uneventful. The bus was easy to find and everything went smoothly. While on the bus I observed a verbal fight, that at times, looked like it might become a physical one. While the whole thing was carried out in Tamil I think I got the gist of it. An older man was mad at the bus conductor because he believed he was being overcharged. The conductor got angry. Both men were yelling at each other. Most of the passengers were on the conductors side. The old man was traveling with two women. As he got increasingly mad they got increasingly severe with him. Every time he tried to stand up the older of the two women would slap him. Finally the younger of the two sat next to him to force him to stay in his seat.

These women were dark and fierce looking. They had strong chins, and large muscular arms. They also seemed proud. They weren't going to let this man, whoever he was, behave in a shameful manner, at least not in their presence.

Eventually he settled down. The women didn't cut him any slack though, they stayed sitting next to him.

Once in Vellore I took a rickshaw to the train station. I was about thirty minutes early so I bought some coffee and some biscuits. When my train finally arrived I found my compartment.

I was traveling with a women named Emmanuel Martin. She is French but has been living in Chennai (Madras) for four years. She is studying traditional Indian music, known as Karnataka music. We had met about a month ago through the friends I had made in Tiruvenamali. She spends, on average, six hours a day singing. Her teacher (or Guru) is one of the most famous Karnataka singers in the world. She lives right next door to him and has very little free time. However, he was out of town for a week, so we decided to go to Kananghad together.

We are staying in an ashram that is outside of Kanaghad. It's called Annanda ashram and was founded by a man named Swami Papa Ramdas. He died almost 50 years ago, however, the ashram is still very alive.

Everything at the ashram is free. Although donations are encouraged it is totally up to you how much, or how little you give. They feed you three meals a day and tea and coffee. They also will wash your cloths and help you arrange transportation.

The ashram is in the state of Kerala. When I first came to India I came to Kerala. At the time I couldn't believe how dirty and chaotic it was. However, after spending a few months in other parts of India I can't believe how clean it is. Kerala is the richest Indian state. It has the highest level of literacy and the best social infrastructure. The streets are amazingly clean (especially after coming from Tamil Nadu). Kerala is also the only communist state in India. It's odd driving around and seeing the communist arm and hammer. I'm so used to associating that with bad cold war era things. However, in Kerala it seems to be working out OK.

Emmaunuel will leave tomorrow to go back to Chennai. I will stay at the ashram for a day or two longer and then go to a place called Gokarna. It's south of Goa and has beautiful beaches. I plan on spending the last couple of days there before I fly out of Mumbai on the 17th.

It's getting really hot here. Most days at least 90-95 degrees. I wake up in the morning feeling sticky and sweaty because of the humidity. It's going to be quite a shock going from this kind of weather to the rain and cold in Holland.

Ants

The hot season is fast approaching southern India. I've noticed changes just in the three months I've been here. When I first arrived night were slightly cool. You could sometimes even get away with wearing a light sweatshirt Now, that is a long lost memory.

As the weather gets hotter, more and more bugs begin to appear. They have begun to come into houses and rooms. This is because it's cooler inside than out, and therefor more desirable.

This didn't really bother me or even effect me until a couple of days ago. I was turning on my laptop to start writing something when I suddenly realized that there were ants crawling all over me. I brushed them off, only to discover, to my horror, that they were coming from inside my laptop. I'd been told this happens, but somehow I always imagined it happening to someone else.

What the ants do is start a nest inside computers. It's warm and safe inside the machines. Plus they have plenty of food to eat (in the form of rubber). This sounds kind of funny and like not such a big deal, but it is. Ants can completely destroy a computer within weeks.

Well, I didn't want my computer to be completely destroyed, so I took drastic action. First I tried to open the computer up and exterminate them by hand. This didn't go so well. My computer is sealed pretty tight.

Then I decided to put the computer in an airtight bag. The ants would suffocate. Even as I did this part of me was saying “This is stupid, ants are the toughest creatures on the planet, they won't suffocate any time soon”.

As I waited for the ants to suffocate, I began asking local people what they do when they have an ant problem. They told me buy a certain kind of chalk. It's meant to kill cockroaches, but works just fine on ants. What you do is draw a line of the chalk around you computer and just wait for the ants to die. I took this advice and sure enough, withing four hours I didn't see any more ants crawling around. To prevent any further infestations I've taken to keeping my computer in a ziploc bag.

But, that wasn't my last encounter with ants. For a couple nights I was sleeping on a futon in a friends office. The first night I slept great. The sheets were clean and there was a fan right above me. I woke up in the morning feeling refreshed etc. Until I realized I was covered in ants. I freaked out and took a shower. After showering them off I didn't think about it again. That night the same thing happened except I didn't sleep so well. All night I felt ants crawling over my body.

Well, when I woke up, I took a shower and promptly forgot about it. Finally, after three nights of poor sleep and ant covered mornings, I decided to do some investigation. So, I moved all my junk out of the way and lifted up the futon. Nothing. Then I decided to lift up the sheets. Sure enough there were hundreds of ants nesting in my sheets. I cleaned them out and slept well the rest of my time on the futon.