We are back in San Francisco. Reunited with friends, reunited with my beautiful bicycle, reunited with the USA... or at least working on it. It is good to be back.
Seattle arrival time: approx. 2:30 pm Sunday.
See you soon.
Chance
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Goodbye, India.
Dear India,
Thank you for allowing me the opportunity to:
-Get pissed on by Sampson the Rat
-Find my temple
-Eat delicious, copious food on the Camel Safari
-Experience the Mughal restaurant in Mumbai
-Down the saffron lassis in Jodhpur
-Serve as a target for that woman's puke on the bus
-Get attacked by that cow and it's curious tongue, in Rishikesh, while being lain on by Abi Sheik
-Come to a better understanding of my relationship with Josh
-Find a more assertive, self-rewarding relationship between myself and the world
-Read.
-Projectile spray shit all over the walls, toilet, and floor of the bathroom of our ashram in Rishikesh, unable to sit down in time because I was busy vomitting in the bucket full of used toilet paper (napkins)
-Fill myself up with chai
- Learn some tasty cooking
-Acquire a perspective from which to view the U.S., the bicycle trip, and my life in the PNW as so much more gifted, more beautiful, more valuable, than I had ever before managed to understand
Also , thank you for:
-not hurting me significantly, besides depriving me from cardiovascular exercise and bombarding me with copious amounts of refined carbohydrates, fried oil, bacteria, and parasites.
-remaining, despite my sometimes determined animosity, exactly who you are, and forcing me to come to terms with that-- and then throwing me the occasional mind-blowing bone-- the perfect sunset, the right rock to climb, the cool air in my temple, the view from Triund-- that would make all my doubts fall away, leaving me with something pristine, true, and beautiful, a gift I will never forget.
-the thali. The concept of the thali, India, is one of your crowning culinary achievements-- at least on the cafeteria end of things. All you can eat curry, dhal, sabji, rice, chapattis, less than a dollar, sometimes as little as 25 cents... I ate lunch an hour ago and I am already slavering. Well done.
-the Dosa. Look it up, cook it up. Breakfast of champions.
-introducing me to yoga. Aspects of yoga will play a part in my life from now on, I think.
-accepting the donation of my wallet. I know you are into surprises-- I have been experiencing this aspect of your quirky nature ever since the first hour we hit Delhi-- but I must say, that whole wallet thing... I didn't even see it coming. But you made it easy for me. You just collected, all of a sudden, that night on the bus to Mumbai. I suppose you think of it as a sort of tax-- rich-person tax, perhaps. Well, India, spend it well. I might not have.
-always changing the menu-- in restaurants, on the road, in the cities, the people, and the experiences, always shuffling things up, always dishing out something new. Thanks for keeping me on my toes.
-giving me a healthy respect for healthy food, and the places where it is available-- places which are very seldom found in India.
-Teaching me not to take good health for granted. This was not just through seeing all the unhealthy, bodily mangled people making their lives on the street, but also in myself... This India trip may have been the least healthy 96 consecutive days in my life, as my weak, pampered immune system has had to do battle with bacteria, parasites, and multiple colds, all while running on poor nutrition and little exercise.
-And, in the absence of more time, Everything Else.
Thanks India.
I will miss you.
Love,
Chance
Thank you for allowing me the opportunity to:
-Get pissed on by Sampson the Rat
-Find my temple
-Eat delicious, copious food on the Camel Safari
-Experience the Mughal restaurant in Mumbai
-Down the saffron lassis in Jodhpur
-Serve as a target for that woman's puke on the bus
-Get attacked by that cow and it's curious tongue, in Rishikesh, while being lain on by Abi Sheik
-Come to a better understanding of my relationship with Josh
-Find a more assertive, self-rewarding relationship between myself and the world
-Read.
-Projectile spray shit all over the walls, toilet, and floor of the bathroom of our ashram in Rishikesh, unable to sit down in time because I was busy vomitting in the bucket full of used toilet paper (napkins)
-Fill myself up with chai
- Learn some tasty cooking
-Acquire a perspective from which to view the U.S., the bicycle trip, and my life in the PNW as so much more gifted, more beautiful, more valuable, than I had ever before managed to understand
Also , thank you for:
-not hurting me significantly, besides depriving me from cardiovascular exercise and bombarding me with copious amounts of refined carbohydrates, fried oil, bacteria, and parasites.
-remaining, despite my sometimes determined animosity, exactly who you are, and forcing me to come to terms with that-- and then throwing me the occasional mind-blowing bone-- the perfect sunset, the right rock to climb, the cool air in my temple, the view from Triund-- that would make all my doubts fall away, leaving me with something pristine, true, and beautiful, a gift I will never forget.
-the thali. The concept of the thali, India, is one of your crowning culinary achievements-- at least on the cafeteria end of things. All you can eat curry, dhal, sabji, rice, chapattis, less than a dollar, sometimes as little as 25 cents... I ate lunch an hour ago and I am already slavering. Well done.
-the Dosa. Look it up, cook it up. Breakfast of champions.
-introducing me to yoga. Aspects of yoga will play a part in my life from now on, I think.
-accepting the donation of my wallet. I know you are into surprises-- I have been experiencing this aspect of your quirky nature ever since the first hour we hit Delhi-- but I must say, that whole wallet thing... I didn't even see it coming. But you made it easy for me. You just collected, all of a sudden, that night on the bus to Mumbai. I suppose you think of it as a sort of tax-- rich-person tax, perhaps. Well, India, spend it well. I might not have.
-always changing the menu-- in restaurants, on the road, in the cities, the people, and the experiences, always shuffling things up, always dishing out something new. Thanks for keeping me on my toes.
-giving me a healthy respect for healthy food, and the places where it is available-- places which are very seldom found in India.
-Teaching me not to take good health for granted. This was not just through seeing all the unhealthy, bodily mangled people making their lives on the street, but also in myself... This India trip may have been the least healthy 96 consecutive days in my life, as my weak, pampered immune system has had to do battle with bacteria, parasites, and multiple colds, all while running on poor nutrition and little exercise.
-And, in the absence of more time, Everything Else.
Thanks India.
I will miss you.
Love,
Chance
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Delhi, morning.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
The End is Nigh
March 4th. Only 6 days left in our trip. I think I can speak for the both of us when I say we are ready for that plane home. We're ready to see family and friends, and feel the comforts of home after 5 long months of travel. We miss you and we'll see you soon!
1/3/10
"Happy Holi shit! A festival of color gone haywire. Dye is everywhere. In my hair, mouth, eyes, ears, nails, anywhere! I think the dye is oil based. Probably motor oil. It's got a similar sheen. Starts green, ends purple."
The hotel guys said people get crazy (drunk) down on the streets, and advised us to stay at the hotel. Not particularly interested in eating dye, we obliged and watched from our seven story hotel as processions began. Children littered the rooftops with buckets, balloons, squirt guns, and worst of all, deadly precision. Relentless in their attacks, they pelted neighbor kids, and occasionally preyed on unknowing tourists down below. We were safe in our tower. But safety grew old, and in its place, a sense of restless adventure was born. We had no dye, and neither did the hotel guys. I asked, and they said all the shops were closed. But what went in one ear went straight out the other. There was no way I was going to miss out on this one. So I took to the streets.
Paranoia. I was walking through a maze. The walls were three stories high. The streets, four feet wide. Distant screaming rang in my ears, but all around me was silence. Water bottle in hand, I persevered. My weaponry was weak, but I was quick on my feet. All I needed was a little bit of dye and I might make it back. The corridor ended in a turn. I heard mumurs ahead. They couldn't have seen me, impossible. The murmurs grew into voices. My body grew tense. I gripped my bottle and was ready to spring. Steps. Two of them. I don't think they're kids, but I'm not about to let my guard down. I creep forward until they turn the corner. Defensless. Just some old men. Clean too. I must be in a safe area. I let my guard down some and continue forward. As I passed the men a balloon came from nowhere. I swung my hips and narrowly dodged it. No such luck for the man behind me. I saw where it came from. A small square, if I run fast enough I might make it. Left or right? Another balloon. Left! In a full sprint I rounded the corner and saw five kids waiting for me. I was too fast, the barrage was a failure. I kept running looking side to side only to see closed shops. Suddenly I felt cold. My left side ached. I put my hand to my stomach and felt it wet. Looking down, I saw that they didn't fail... they got me. Bastards! I've been purpled! Soon I found dye. Now those kids won't be so lucky.
"I was out on the street, trekking back to the hotel. I turned the corner and caught the eye of a kid. He yelled. Four more came from behind cover. I ran." This time they were ready. "All five were pelting me as I fought back. They grabbed my shirt and pulled. I began to worry about not making it back. I desperately squirted the kids, but they clung tighter. The pulling got harder. More kids came, more dye. I chose one kid and relentlessly dumped dye on him, he gave. That was it, my escape."
I sprayed in full circles, tearing away from their clutches. Suddenly I was free. I turned and ran, continuing my sprays. I rounded the corner and was there. The hotel. I made it. I climbed the seven flights, dye in hand and returned a hero. Now, it was time for my revenge.
"We're on the roof, we used the high ground to dump buckets and spray with water bottles. People didn't appreciate it. I did."
In the end, "our safe haven" turned into an all out battle field. The guys from the hotel pulled out the buckets, hoses, water bottles and dye. It wasn't pretty, but it sure as hell was fun.
Happy Holi shit.
Love,
Josh
1/3/10
"Happy Holi shit! A festival of color gone haywire. Dye is everywhere. In my hair, mouth, eyes, ears, nails, anywhere! I think the dye is oil based. Probably motor oil. It's got a similar sheen. Starts green, ends purple."
The hotel guys said people get crazy (drunk) down on the streets, and advised us to stay at the hotel. Not particularly interested in eating dye, we obliged and watched from our seven story hotel as processions began. Children littered the rooftops with buckets, balloons, squirt guns, and worst of all, deadly precision. Relentless in their attacks, they pelted neighbor kids, and occasionally preyed on unknowing tourists down below. We were safe in our tower. But safety grew old, and in its place, a sense of restless adventure was born. We had no dye, and neither did the hotel guys. I asked, and they said all the shops were closed. But what went in one ear went straight out the other. There was no way I was going to miss out on this one. So I took to the streets.
Paranoia. I was walking through a maze. The walls were three stories high. The streets, four feet wide. Distant screaming rang in my ears, but all around me was silence. Water bottle in hand, I persevered. My weaponry was weak, but I was quick on my feet. All I needed was a little bit of dye and I might make it back. The corridor ended in a turn. I heard mumurs ahead. They couldn't have seen me, impossible. The murmurs grew into voices. My body grew tense. I gripped my bottle and was ready to spring. Steps. Two of them. I don't think they're kids, but I'm not about to let my guard down. I creep forward until they turn the corner. Defensless. Just some old men. Clean too. I must be in a safe area. I let my guard down some and continue forward. As I passed the men a balloon came from nowhere. I swung my hips and narrowly dodged it. No such luck for the man behind me. I saw where it came from. A small square, if I run fast enough I might make it. Left or right? Another balloon. Left! In a full sprint I rounded the corner and saw five kids waiting for me. I was too fast, the barrage was a failure. I kept running looking side to side only to see closed shops. Suddenly I felt cold. My left side ached. I put my hand to my stomach and felt it wet. Looking down, I saw that they didn't fail... they got me. Bastards! I've been purpled! Soon I found dye. Now those kids won't be so lucky.
"I was out on the street, trekking back to the hotel. I turned the corner and caught the eye of a kid. He yelled. Four more came from behind cover. I ran." This time they were ready. "All five were pelting me as I fought back. They grabbed my shirt and pulled. I began to worry about not making it back. I desperately squirted the kids, but they clung tighter. The pulling got harder. More kids came, more dye. I chose one kid and relentlessly dumped dye on him, he gave. That was it, my escape."
I sprayed in full circles, tearing away from their clutches. Suddenly I was free. I turned and ran, continuing my sprays. I rounded the corner and was there. The hotel. I made it. I climbed the seven flights, dye in hand and returned a hero. Now, it was time for my revenge.
"We're on the roof, we used the high ground to dump buckets and spray with water bottles. People didn't appreciate it. I did."
In the end, "our safe haven" turned into an all out battle field. The guys from the hotel pulled out the buckets, hoses, water bottles and dye. It wasn't pretty, but it sure as hell was fun.
Happy Holi shit.
Love,
Josh
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Magic Bag-fixin' boyz
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