It’s got to be close to 3:00am I think as I turn on my Ipod to find that it claims it is only 11:03. Between the two of us I figure I am the more trustworthy source and settle on a time closer to my estimate than the Ipods declaration. After all anything that declares something to be the absolute truth must be wrong, right? I have been trying to sleep for the last two hours and of course have found it futile. Two to three hours from now I will probably still be sitting here wondering how long this night is going to last.
I am writing on the back of a National Geographic Travelers Magazine envelope because it is the only thing I have upon which I can write. And writing is currently the only thing I can do to occupy myself. The only thing that I brought with me to read on this trip was the National Geographic Traveler Magazine and a Journal of Theology. Both of which I have read pretty much from cover to cover. I have learned a few things from the magazine like the fact that a 393 ft tall iron spike in Dublin is nick named the pointless point as well as a number of other colorful designations or that there is a fast food joint which has a Kayak-through window to serve those who do not wish to leave their treasured sea even to eat. There was also a long article about the best places to stay, eat, shop, etc in San Francisco, it certainly sounds a lot more exciting than my present circumstances.
My present circumstances are a hotel room near Vanyimbadi. The night is dark, dangerous, and full of mosquitoes. Dangerous that is according to D Paul who says that many poisonous snakes come out at evening. That sounds more like a reason to go out to me than a reason to stay in, but I am behaving and besides I have no flashlight. Inside, the satellite is out and I have no reading material left hence the reason I am writing on the back of a magazine envelope.
I do get three stations in on the Television, but they are all in Hindi or at least some Indian language. Two of the stations are movies and one is cricket. For a little while I amused myself watching the Hindi movies and making up my own conversations to suit their antics. This however is probably a lot more fun if you have someone else doing it with you. After I tired of that it was still entertaining just to watch the antics of many of the characters. For example when two people are getting married and a third woman steps in between them right at the crucial time so that the wreath goes over her head instead of the bride’s, and now well, she is the one who is married and there is nothing anyone can do about it, tough break. In another movie a man apparently drugs a girl while she is on the train and kidnaps her because supposedly he is in love with her. Even though the girl spends the rest of the movie in a drugged stupor the man is constantly dancing and singing with her in his imagination. In the same movie the father steps into a police office to report the kidnap and the ENITRE time he is in there about six police are beating a man in the background. This beating has absolutely nothing to do with the movie. It is simply there as if without it the station would be very unrealistic. Now however I am just sitting here listening to the rain and wondering what I will find to write on when the envelope is full.
In two days it will be Diwali, probably the biggest of all Hindu festivals. There will be fireworks everywhere and my friends Muthu and Adhavan are trying to convince me to wear the traditional Indian garment that I have in my closest because Victor bought it for me. I will probably not wear it simply because I do not want them to think that I am celebrating a Hindu festival with them. The garment can wait for some other time when it will not give such an impression.
And right now I have to tell you that Barbie Girl by Aqua has just come on the TV being song by and danced to by an Indian couple, who can’t quite sing it right . . . (the envelope ran out of space, for more of this day’s adventures see the photo album entry called “Childish Pursuits”)