Utter defeat

By this time our curiosity for the absurd was superbly satisfied. We came into this trip wanting an adventure, and I think we got more than we were expecting. Everyday we had someone in our face trying to sell us something/rip us off, take us on crazy drunken rides, show us burning bodies, take us to holy places... and most of all, we got something that you would never see in the culture we live in. At the airport, we were physically and mentally exhausted. But, looking back on India, it was hands down the gnarliest trip I've been on.

~~~~~~post script~~~~~~

I came home with some bruises and they actually increased as I got home... my heal started hurting so much that I almost couldn't walk on it. When i unpacked my bags, it had the smell of India encrusted on my belongings. Most unfortunate, the Mcdonald's plate that Hafer gave me shattered from the impact of jumping off a train. I'm believing that it saved my head from getting smashed... thanks Hafer!

About two days after I got back I wasn't feeling well and ended up going to the doctor (i think Shannon mentioned that he was also sick)... what now? malaria? septosis? A blood test was done but i never went back for the results and they never contacted me so I guess that means its not anything serious.

Other than fevers and scars... I have some kick ass stories. And this blog is getting finished almost a year later haha.

-Response
That about sums it up. As mentioned, I also got sick a couple days after I got back, and I have one or two rashes that I should have probably gotten looked at. During the trip, Hahn and I both swore we would never come back to this part of the world. After about a month, we seriously talked about going back, and how much we missed the chaos. It was some of the most difficult backpacking I've done, but absolutely worth it. India is insane. I recommend it to all looking backpacking adventure. Next up will hopefully be Cambodia, Vietnam, and Thailand. Home of Sagat and his tiger uppercuts.

Airport Doctor

Still feeling that giant gash in my back and remembering the pile of cow shit that was about a foot away from where I landed. Who knew what sorts of flesh eating bacteria lived in India. It didn't help that Shannon got about 4 different shots before he came to India. Whereas, my doctor in Japan almost laughed when I asked about malarial medicine. Maybe Americans are just xenophobic to everything or is the rest of the world too relaxed. Anyway, the thought of a tetanus shot sounded life saving.

We walked in the clean and spotless infirmary... something we werent really used to in India. I told them I had a few cuts on my back that I would like to get taken care of. Showed him my back, and he asked what happened... We jumped off a train... I think he basically said something along the lines as 'you must be retarded.' Yea...

Anyway, two nurses happily inflicted pain on me with their alcohol and iodine rinses. After I got re-bandaged, I was on the receiving end of a tetanus. Since that shot makes your arm sore she massaged my arm for a bit and then said some broken English. "Your arm massage." Well, i thought this was some pretty good treatment, and just as i was about to get relaxed she stopped and told me to do it myself. So, I sat there like tool massaging my arm.
All the while, Shannon is standing off to the side taking pictures and throwing sly comments my way.

Time to go, i was wondering what the damage would be. I only had a few Rbps left on me. Luckily, India is nothing like the overpriced US of A. I think the total came to about 5 dollars. Joke was on Shannon who spent like $400 getting all of his shots and medicine. Goes to show you should wait until you are injured (in a 3rd world country) to seek medical attention. A prescription in hand we walked around to pharmacy and get some antibiotics.

We still had a few hours until we were permitted to enter the actual airport. I still dont understand that. We have our flight papers/tickets and they wouldn't let us into the airport until about 2 hours before our departure time. With nothing better to do, we decided to kill some time by eating icecream, watching Super Jail, and taking naps.

Tough Indian Love

As we get to the train station, Hahn and I sit on the steps outside to take a hard assessment of his back. By the time we get our packs off, the tukkers are already starting to swarm around us, asking where we want to go. Sometimes the tukkers fought over us, other times, as in this case, there was one lead guy, usually older, cutting deals with other tukkers (possibly employees). If you think about it, it kinda makes sense. It's my turn to take these guys, but they not headed in my direction home. I'll take a cut from what they give you, and if you take them to these shops, here, here and here, tell them I sent you, the shop owners will give me a cut of what they spend tomorrow, and I'll cut you on that. One hand is constantly washing the other hand, along with every other crusty orifice of the body. Anyway, as the tukkers asked where we wanted to go, Hahn and I look over each other, mainly his back, and, for once, I agreed with the tukker who said we should go to the pharmacy. After telling Hahn to "stop being such a fairy", and "you'll be fine, you don't need stitches", we pack our selves into yet another tuk tuk and head to the nearest pharmacy on the outskirts of Delhi.
A few moments later we find ourselves under a massive overpass, with cars whizzing by 4 stories above us. A small shanty like town sprung up underneath the long concrete bridges, and just as the tukker said, we found a small pharmacy stand, selling the usual things to patch up a battle hardened backpacker. Hahn and I gather up some ointment, tape, gauze, and some water from a nearby stand. As we walk back to the tuk tuk, the tukker already called over 5 of his friends to watch this surgery. As Hahn takes off his shirt, "Oooohhhhsss" and "Aaahhhhhsss" permeate through the group, then some Hindi is spoken, and everyone laughs...except Hahn. Hahah. His back looked like a bag of mangled balloon knots. Anyway, to make a long story short, I apply the water (Hahn yells), I apply the ointment (Hahn yells), I slap on some gauze (Hahn yells), and I tape it to his back (Hahn calls me an asshole). Hahha. But his back looked 10 times better. Especially under gauze where I couldnt look at it anymore.
So we get back into the tuk tuk, hand the driver the business card for the carpet shop, and off we go. After some time, we arrive back into Delhi proper, and I start to recognize where we are. The driver doesn't exactly know where the address is, so we ask for some directions, and finally find the place. As we walk in, we flag down our salesmen, Joe Magtegna, who upon seeing us, had a wave of ambiguous apathy, probably thinking, "these jackasses again?. Anyway, we all shook hands, picked up the carpets, and Joe kicked us out, as we were blocking the next couple of foreigners he wanted to con into buying carpets. And as a side note, my carpet is still holding up rather well, and looks as if it will continue that way for quite some time. Hahn's probably got thrown out the window or burned by Hiyo, but so it goes. Women are crazy, what are you going to do?
Afterwards, we had some time to burn, and our tukker took us to "The Rich Area", as he called it, which looked newly stamped into the city. Mostly of the concrete and roads looked freshly paved, a long with the saplings still staked down with wood and wire. There were all the brand name high end stores complete with fake sunglass sellers outside on the sidewalks. We meandered for awhile, it was about mid-day, and Hahn and I needed to sit down and eat. So with the remaining cash we had left, we picked out the nicest restaurant on the strip, and headed in. The place was just posh enough for the both of us, and we decided to eat there. We were quickly ushered to the back staircase, (we had to walk through what seemed to be the higher end of Indian society to get to the back, and we got a few dirty white devil stares along the way), and up to the second floor, that overlooked the first floor. However, Hahn and I looked like we just jumped off a train, and smelled like we've been traveling for 10+ days, so they stuck us by ourselves, in the far far back corner. That was more then fine by us. We had a view of the upstairs bar, and a tv or two, and sat in silence, away from the sun and the traffic. So we took off our packs and plopped down in a big comfy leather booth. Hell, we could have been London for all we knew. Our waiter came around, we ordered some concoctions, some water, and two 'merica sized plates of food. As we finished, we noticed that the second floor was reserved for foreigners, as europeans and asians were being lead upstairs and sat around us. Racists. We ate, sat, and eventually made our way back to the street. We heard music from across the street in a park with trees and fountains, so we headed over. All the entrances to the park were secured off, so we finally walked around to a long line of guards with metal detecting wands, and tables to search bags and whatnot. I really did not have the energy to unpack everything in my bag, but then again, I forgot that I was white. And white means that I'm not Pakistani. Hahn and I were lightly pushed though the line of guards with barely a glance. I could have had a small arsenal in my pack. Nope, head on in sir.
.

As we got in, there was no real music, or at least I don't remember anything like real music. Just some speakers set up playing shit music. There were people everywhere, laying in the grass and walking around, securing the idea that Indian people are just dying to find any distraction, no matter what it is as long as it's something different then everyday poverty. I have to admit, I take easily obtainable distraction for granted in the United States. So we walked around for a bit, and parked ourselves in a spot of grass under a tree. Thankfully it looked like two Canadian or British girls were laying out on a blanket 30 feet from us. This took all the eyes off Hahn bleeding through the gauze, oozing through the back of his shirt, which was matched by the medium sized hole in my shirt on my shoulder, which was also now stained with dust and dirt everywhere. We really did look like we lived under a bridge for the past month. Anyway, we took a nap for a bit, only to open our eyes long enough to watch all the guys try and sneak pictures of the fair skinned girls with their new camera phones. That didn't last overly long however, since the girls got tired of being politely ostracized through quickly gaping stares, and ultimately packed it in for the day. As I finally fully woke up, sure as shit a group of middle school kids in their school uniforms were taking pictures of Hahn and I passed out in the grass. I stared back at them, and after a few seconds they noticed and we had ourselves a stare down. Its tough to get mad at them, and I'm sure they mean nothing by it. Anyway, I won that battle, and Hahn and I successfully wasted away the afternoon.

As we head to the airport, our tukker stops and gets gas. We are basically on the same route as when we first arrived. Seems like just yesterday we got here in this crazy city. He drops us off a mile or so from the airport, and we have to take a shuttle bus the rest of the way, for security measures. As I get on the bus, we are instructed to put our packs on the rack with the rest of the luggage. At the time I wasn't worried about it, and quite frankly, I wasn't thinking. Hahn and I got a seat in the middle, since it was pretty vacant. And just like that, a swarm of people come rushing onto the bus, the luggage rack fills up, and people just start taking luggage to their seats, and leaving bags and whatnot in the isle. Where once I had an eye on my bag, my view is now obstructed by bodies swaying to and fro at the mercy of the bus driver steering this metal beast towards the airport. The bus finally comes to a stop, and I am praying that by the time I get to the front, my pack is still there. Getting off the bus is like getting off a plane, it taking forever and everyone taking their sweet time. Im finally able to stand up, and start making my way to the door. If my pack isnt there, after all this time, at the very last stop, Im going to flip my wig and start killing for the Lord, beginning with this smelly fucker in front of me acting like a damn fool and not moving fast enough. I look down in the luggage rack. My pack is gone. I start digging through pieces of luggage. "Oh...There it is". Paranoia abated. Hahn and I get into the airport 'holding area', since we are only allowed into the airport a couple of hours before checkin.
The area isn't big, but not small, and only areas to sit with little else. We notice signs for the bathroom, and they lead us down an elevator. We pop out in a long hall, turn the corner, and but what do we see?!? An infirmary. Hahha. Perfect. Can't have Hahn flying back to Japan with a bleeding hole in his back. Ill let Hahn write about that though. Anyway, keep going, and the place opens up to a long concourse type area, just without gates. We check into the bathrooms, and head down the way. There are shops and eateries on either side, some of them in the middle of construction, we both assumed in time for Obama's visit in 2 weeks. It was nice though, clean, and white. We moseyed around for a bit, and decided it was high time for Tim to see a real doctor.

Proper Technique

I found this article on another website... we really didnt do it properly.

Mar 24, 2007

How to Jump from a Moving Train

1. Move to the end of the last car. If this is not an option, you can jump from the space between cars, or from the door if you can get it open.

2. If you have time, wait for the train to slow as it rounds a bend in the tracks. If you jump and land correctly you will probably survive even at high speeds (70 mph or more), but you increase your chances of survival if the train is moving slowly.

3. Stuff blankets, clothing, or seat cushions underneath your clothes. Wear a thick or rugged jacket if possible. Use a belt to secure some padding around your head, but make certain you can see clearly. Pad your knees, elbows, and hips.

4. Pick your landing spot before you jump. The ideal spot will be relatively soft and free of obstructions. Avoid trees, bushes, and, of course, rocks.

5. Get as low to the floor as possible, bending your knees so you can leap away from the train car.

6. Jump perpendicular to the train, leaping as far away from the train as you can. Even if you jump from the last car, leap at right angles to the direction of the train. This way, your momentum will not carry you toward the wheels and tracks.

7. Cover and protect your head with your hands and arms, and roll like a log when you land. Do not try to land on your feet. Keep your body straight and try to land so all parts of your body hit the ground at the same time—you will absorb the impact over a wider area. If you land on your feet, you will most likely break your ankles or legs. Do NOT roll head over heels as if doing a forward somersault.

"Jump! You Pussy"

Tim already at the door of the train while im rushing to get my bags together and stuff any miscellaneous thing in my pockets. Time freezes as i watch the platform go by in slow motion... a little voice in my head yells 'damn you India'. I swear to god the ghost of Mola Rom was watching over us.

I rendezvous with Shannon at the doorway and we have a short conversation about what the hell we are gonna do... i dont really remember it because my synapses are all signaling at once. When is the next station? Will we miss our plane? Can we jump? How fast are we going? This questions slowly give way to invulnerability... We just left the station... we're not going that fast. If we roll, we'll be fine. Homeless people jump trains all the time; how hard can it be. Eventually, one of us suggests what the other has been thinking since we first rode the train...

Shannon: Hahn, hurry the fuck up!
Me: that was Delhi...
Shannon: Should we jump?
Me: I guess, who knows where the next station is.
Shannon: .... (drops bag)
We both give a bewildered look as his bag violently hits the grounds and is briskly swept away in the distance.
Silence...
Me: Jump, YOU PUSSY!
Shannon: Knowing he can't say no to that, he plunges onto the stones.
It was kinda one of those situations where you prod at something to see if someone would really do it... then when they do it, you are like holy shit... especially knowing you're up next.
Watching Shannon hop off the train was surreal... Both of his hands where on the doorway as he was leaning out waiting to jump. It looked like he just hopped a couple inches away from the train and crumbled crumbled he hit the ground... immediately, i was concentrating on when to jump. While metal bars, boxes, and other rusted contraptions were flying i thought i could feel the train getting faster... fuck, i have to jump soon. On top of that, if i dont jump, ill be stuck in India. Yikes.

Ahh, an opening with no rusty metal, just rocks! In midair i realize that the camera I borrowed is in my pocket... to avoid smashing the camera I twist in midair. This was possibly the worst decision you could make as I was in no position to roll and absorb the impact. I landed in a squatting position with my back facing the way we were going... i leaned forward to try and counterbalance my momentum so I wouldnt smash my head open... oh man, no way... I dont actually remember hitting the ground but somehow i have a memory of seeing my feet in the air.

My glasses were gone, my back was on fire, and i was frozen in pain... i literally couldnt move. I rolled over to my side and the first recognizance memory is pile of cow shit basking in the noon sun about a foot away from where I landed. Seriously India. I lightly rubbed over my head with my one hand in hopes a piece of my skull isn't missing. No blood. I think my backpack saved me from splattering my brains on the tracks. I just laid on the rocks while holding my breath from time to time to deal with the pain. I saw Shannon in the distance holding his elbow and trying to walk it off. Like a real man... jump out of a train, walk it off. Glancing in the other direction, a group of village kids are standing next to the tracks staring at us in awe. The white men fell from the sky. Surely, that story will be passed on for generations.

They made they way over to my prone body. I got my bag off and sat up and stared back at the kids as to say 'what the hell did i just do?' They whispered some Hindi to themselves. I said 'my glasses'. I dont know why this was the first thing i said... but im literally blind without them. By this time the kids were repeating glasses like it was some taboo. I made glasses with my hands and put them on my face. Thats universally known. Of course, the next word i hear them say is goggles. Goggles. Me, being an english teacher, wondered why goggles are better known than glasses. Anyway, a kid found the glasses about 20 feet away from where i landed. Still in one piece.

Tim had moseyed on down holding his elbow and making some grunting noises. I still couldn't move well. I asked him to check my back... I lifted up my shirt and the expression on his face told it all. He said i had two cuts that looked like they just got punched into my skin at the end. Nightmares of rusty metal pieces. We thanked the kids for helping us. Hobbling back to the station, we start laughing like hyenas. I think this was some kind of natural defense mechanism because we couldn't grasp the fact that we almost died in India.

RESPONSE:
Yep. That's basically how that happened. Im standing there at the door, looking down the corridor, yelling for Hahn to get a move on as the train starts chugging along, accelerating every couple of moments. Nothing. No Hahn. Just a vacant walkway, with some random people staring at me from their seats. I look back out of the train. Yeah. All I see is rusted metal structures for the train and melon sized rocks pass me by (you can see the rocks next to the tracks we jumped out onto in the background of the picture above showing my elbow). Finally, after Hahn kisses those babies and announces his running for mayor of Delhi (to much little fanfare...white devils usually don't do well in general elections), he comes rushing down the isle. As I stand there, on the last step, I yell back to Hahn, "Are we jumping off this thing...?" Hahn looks at me and gives me his classic shoulder shrug. We didn't know when the next station was, and we would both be damned to miss our flight. At that precise moment, the conductor drops the hammer and we could feel the train really start going. It wasn't going full bore quite yet, but we didn't have any more time to debate. All I hear behind me from Hahn is "Jump you fucking pussy!!!" Obviously I couldn't let Hahn get the better of my ego, or let any decently thought out decision to stand in my way of getting to the Delhi airport.

So I reached my hand out of the door, and dropped my bag off the train. And sure as shit, it was gone in a heart beat. Hmmmmm... Well, I was pretty much committed at that point, and I poked my head out, making sure nothing large and dangerous was coming, and out I went. I remember looking down, thinking to myself, "I got this, I got this!", as my feet got closer to the ground. And that was it. I stood up, amidst a pile of jagged rock and dust, slumping over holding my elbow and my shoulder, which took the brunt of the impact apparently (landing with my back to the train). I look up, and all I see is the train going around a slight bend, with Hahn's head poking out, way in the distance. I really wasn't sure if he was going to jump or not, as after seeing my destruction, to his credit, it must have been a tough decision. But after a couple of seconds, I see him leap out, turning in the air, so his right shoulder is facing the train. I see him initially hit the earth, but a bunch of rock dust instantly clouds up, and all I see is his feet shoot into the air, making it almost impossible for him not to crack his head in half. I get a bad feeling in my stomach that I'm going to be seeing a lot of blood shortly.

So I hobble my way up the tracks to him, and as I get there, the train finally gets by us. Hahn is there, moving on all fours, shouting, "AAhhhhh Fuck!!...Where are my fucking glasses....My fucking back is on fire!!!...AAhhhh fuck!!!..." Hahn, the man who Death himself can't kill, saved braining his ass by keeping his backpack on. When he hit the ground, apparently the momentum jolted his backpack upward and around his head, of course creating a perfect helmet. Hence why his back was exposed, and the rocks gouging the hell out of it. Anyway, all his yelling caused a commotion, and the poor destitute village on the other side of the tracks came a calling. Must have been something like 20-30 men and boys searching for the white devil's seeing device. We thanked them for their search and their effort, as they did find them, and promptly returned them to Hahn. We grabbed his pack, said goodbye to the diligent yet confused peoples, and headed to the train stop. We walked about 50 feet and broke into laughter that would last about a month.

Everything was going so well...

Somehow we ended up having an extra day in this trip that we didn't plan for... we spent that extra day in Jaipur... Tooling around and getting sudden onsets of diarrhea. Good thing Shannon brought prescription shit stopping pills or else this trip would have required a lot more handkerchiefs.

The next morning we awoke to riding yet another train back to Delhi. This train was the sleeper deal again that had bunks. Naturally, we had no way of understanding what time we would reach Delhi (or when we would even reach the station). Yet, they was aura of relaxation knowing that we would be free of scammers, diarrhea, grabby tuk-tuk drivers, and smog. We asked the guy in the bunk to alert us when we reached Delhi... of course he would do that for us, right?

Lazily laying around... we check the time is its an hour or two past the scheduled time. Still not there i guess... i drift off back to sleep and Tim goes to take some pics from the train...

What was i dreaming of? I can't recollect it...I just remember being violently shaken awake and Shannon yelling that this was our stop...

our train was already moving away from the station.

Damn you India!

Mr. Hahn Meets Mr. Hankey

There I am, its the first day in Jaipur, and I'm sitting on the shitter in the dank and dark bathroom, staring at the shower (a spicket in the wall with a hole in the floor), and the small water bugs and cock roaches sharing a small recess of water. I can't quite place the smell, but its nothing good. Hahn is outside, settling his pack, as we've just gotten to our room 10 minutes or so before. I look around. Like boxing out in the NBA, the toilet paper is non-existent.
Usually, as far as this trip has gone, there was at least a fifth of a roll hiding somewhere in the bathrooms. I've got nothing except a hankey in my back pocket. So instead of wiping my ass with my hand, I wipe it with a piece of cloth that was supposed to be used to wipe my nose. I do my business, and throw the hankey in the corner of the bathroom, so when I shower, it'll soak for a bit and I can wash it. I exit the bathroom, and get my camera together to go out. As Hahn enters the bathroom, I hear "What is that on the floor?" "Oh, that's my hankey." "Did you wipe your ass with that?" "Yeah." "Ohhh maaannn...that's disgusting." Hahn walks back out of the bathroom. "Dude, you're disgusting!" Hahn is now dying laughing. "Why am I disgusting?...I had to wipe my ass!...What was I supposed to wipe my ass with?" "I don't know, but not that!...That's disgusting, you're ridiculous!" "Whatever man. I don't know what I was supposed to do. Wiping my ass with my hand isn't exactly my optimal choice." "Ahahahha...Hahahah...you're disgusting! I can't believe you did that." "You've never wiped your ass with anything other then toilet paper?" "Oh man, no...never." "Never?" "No, never." ...Somewhere along the line the conversation shifted a bit... "So Hahn, you've never shit yourself?" "No, never!" "Bullshit!" "No, I've never shit myself in my adult life." "That's crap son. I don't believe that for a fucking second. I shit myself once every 2-3 months, and you're telling me you've never shit yourself as an adult?" "That's right. I've never shit myself as an adult."
That conversation went on for a good 20 minutes as we got ready to leave, and eventually run into Lucky. As we wake up the next day, we find mosquito bites all over us, as apparently there were about 15 of them hiding in the curtains waiting for us to fall asleep. So we get our gear on, and scout out a small eatery we found on the map, finding out there arent a ton of places serving breakfast. We find the eatery, 2 back alleys behind a back alley. Oddly enough, its not a bad spot, its just empty. So Hahn and I have the run of the restaurant, and order a shit ton of food while watching the only tv in the place showing single scenes from popular american movies. That was the whole show. It showed a scene, then commercials, then another scene from a different movie. The waiter, who took our order, disappeared upstairs for about 30 minutes while we sat there straight chilling by ourselves. The food eventually made it down the stairs, with our server and I believe the cook, a kid our age with one good eye. I'm not sure they new quite how to serve us, as they seemed very hesitant to do anything with the food. Perhaps they just wanted to get everything perfect. Anyway, the food was great, we got an assortment of stuff, from spicy and hot, to cold and bland. We took our time and relaxed, laughing about Lucky, and not being left for dead by some two-bit gem hustler in fine threads and a fancy car. After eating, we decided to walk to the bizarre we went to last night, as we noticed a throng of stores we passed on the way riding in the tuk tuk. Hahn was looking for some cheap dress shirts for work, and I wanted to see how cheap Puma gear was, since that shit is made somewhere in India. So we walk, and we walk, and we walk some more. Hahn goes in some places...I go in some places. We saw a shit ton of Jaipur yesterday, so there's really zero hurry. We mosey about a mile from our hotel, when just like that, in a blink, right there on the sidewalk...I lose Hahn. He was walking right next to me, and I look over...and he's gone. I stop, and turn around. After a small crowd of people go around me, I see him, 15 feet behind me, standing still. He has a strange look on his face, like he can't figure out a math problem he once knew the answer to. I walk back to him. "You alright?" "Yeeeaaahhh." We start walking forward again, and Hahn takes 3 steps. "Nope.......I shit myself." "What?!...AAAHHHHahahaha." "I need to find somewhere like right now." Hahn shuffles his feet ever so gingerly as he walks, most likely squeezing his butt cheeks together like his soon to be wet legs depended on it. There are zero restaurants where we are, all commercial storefronts, so we duck down a side street. Off to the side, there are a bunch of rundown and abandoned tuk tuks, along with some scooters. There seems to be a small path way behind all of them, to an extremely small alleyway filled with weeds and random debris. "Hey, checkout back there...just climb over that shit and dump out in that little alley." "Alright....Hey...Ummm...You wouldn't happen to have that hankey would you?" "Are you serious?...How fucking ironic is this!!" I throw him the hankey in my back pocket (thanks to allergies I usually pack 3 for the trips like this). 15 minutes later, Hahn re-emerges from the alley. "What happened to my hankey?" "Yeah, you didn't want that back." "Well now what?" "We need to go back to the hotel, I need to take a shower...it was everywhere." "AAhahha hahah.....awesome"...
So we walk a mile back to our hotel, and I didn't stop laughing the entire time....well, until we got about an eighth of the way to the place, where I had to run, since I to, now have to shit. As I sprint up the steps to the second floor, I almost shit myself. As I fumble with the keys to open the door, I almost shit myself. I leap and bound to the toilet, and breakfast shoots out of me. And since Hahn used my toilet paper I had stored in my back pocket, I just took off my shoes, took off my pants, stripped down, and walked 3 steps into the shower, and took a cold one and thoroughly cleaned myself...Hahn would have to wait.

Afterwards we ate lunch at a pizza hut just to see what it was like...and it was expensive. We talked with the only employee who spoke english, had a lovely chat with that kid, and continued on the path where we left off. We make our way back to where we were, and find the Puma store. Unbelievable expensive. Bullshit. Go into a couple of thread stores, and finally end up at the market. At some point it turns dark, and we wonder around some more. Hahn gets into a shirt store, and, well, he can tell you how well the nice cheap dress shirts worked out....Hahn drops a small rupee fortune on dress shirts...Hahah, India strikes again! We dick about the rest of the night, as the city bizarre readies itself for their festival of lights, starting the next week.