I'm tense. I could use a massage, but I think India is the wrong place for that. Wouldn't have a clue where to look. Still don't even know where I can buy a beer. A Kingfisher, please. Apparently I was too late for that tonight. At least I got my artificial mango juice. I was lucky that guy hadn't shuttered his shop otherwise I might be in even more dire straits. That hit the spot for a minute.
Take a load off, you might advise. Well, I just dissolved a pack of Vegeta, a natural dietary fibre supplement I purchased in Indonesia a few months ago, with some water hoping to take a load out. Same same? It might not have been a good idea considering I'm sharing a bathroom tonight. I got a nice room near the Ganges for only $4 a night! See, I'm that fucking guy already.
I love Indian food, I really do. But I've decided it's not meant to be eaten every day. Not by me. I rarely eat bread anymore or anything with wheat other than some processed, sweetened goodies I feel inclined to eat when I haven't had my beer. Oh, that has wheat too, doesn't it? Anyway, there's a lot of bread [naan, chappati, puri and roti for example] in India that I seem to be consuming. And it's fucking my shit up, quite literally.
Speaking of shit, I stepped in some fresh cow shit walking around this evening looking for the aforementioned mango juice. Watch your step, I heard people saying earlier. It's pretty easy to spot there in the middle of the street. Not, however, at night walking down a dimly lit lane and trying to get through some cows that are just "hanging out" wherever they please. I'm still a bit frightened of cows, especially those with horns, after that water buffalo charging incident a few years ago.
So, I had some shit on my flip flop and on my big toe. It slid right into the muck, like stepping on a banana peel. At least I didn't land on my ass. Aside from the plethora of cow shit, there are also a lot of flies. As you might imagine. It doesn't smell that bad, considering the turds, flies, people peeing on walls, bodies being burned into the Ganges and undoubtedly sewage pipes leading there as well. And me, releasing excess gas with every step, provided I know it's not liquid gas. Imagine.
Varanasi is a strange place. Well, no, India is a strange place. Maybe not for an Indian, but for me. I like it sometimes and other times I want to come running back to Thailand or Cambodia or Vietnam or Indonesia or anywhere but India! I want to be be surrounded by beautiful women, I want to eat food that doesn't give me gas, I want to not be stared at - oh wait, cancel Vietnam - and I want to learn a language I want to learn. I'm sorry, but Hindi just doesn't interest me.
So, get the fuck out of India, ya fucking bastard! Hey, give me some more time. I'll eventually leave it to the hippies. And the people lounging outside my room playing the flute. For fuck's sake, put that shit on mute! Almost needed a beer because of that. Instead, I put in the ear buds and saved a little sanity in the process. Got these four Spanish hippies playing the flute and singing Kumbaya outside my room. I paid for it, all $4 of it, and I expect some peace & quiet! I liked the owner of this place, but the people he let's in here....
I think I feel better now. I need some rest before I rise at dawn to walk along the ghats and hopefully take some quality snaps while the lighting is good. And try not to get scammed or give to unholy "holy men" along the way. That will happen unless I'm still not feeling recharged after sleeping on another hard bed. Or if I find myself excessively squatting over the porcelain toilet in the floor. I hope not, but you can be sure I'll tell you all about it. Sweet dreams.
Take a load off, you might advise. Well, I just dissolved a pack of Vegeta, a natural dietary fibre supplement I purchased in Indonesia a few months ago, with some water hoping to take a load out. Same same? It might not have been a good idea considering I'm sharing a bathroom tonight. I got a nice room near the Ganges for only $4 a night! See, I'm that fucking guy already.
I love Indian food, I really do. But I've decided it's not meant to be eaten every day. Not by me. I rarely eat bread anymore or anything with wheat other than some processed, sweetened goodies I feel inclined to eat when I haven't had my beer. Oh, that has wheat too, doesn't it? Anyway, there's a lot of bread [naan, chappati, puri and roti for example] in India that I seem to be consuming. And it's fucking my shit up, quite literally.
Speaking of shit, I stepped in some fresh cow shit walking around this evening looking for the aforementioned mango juice. Watch your step, I heard people saying earlier. It's pretty easy to spot there in the middle of the street. Not, however, at night walking down a dimly lit lane and trying to get through some cows that are just "hanging out" wherever they please. I'm still a bit frightened of cows, especially those with horns, after that water buffalo charging incident a few years ago.
So, I had some shit on my flip flop and on my big toe. It slid right into the muck, like stepping on a banana peel. At least I didn't land on my ass. Aside from the plethora of cow shit, there are also a lot of flies. As you might imagine. It doesn't smell that bad, considering the turds, flies, people peeing on walls, bodies being burned into the Ganges and undoubtedly sewage pipes leading there as well. And me, releasing excess gas with every step, provided I know it's not liquid gas. Imagine.
Varanasi is a strange place. Well, no, India is a strange place. Maybe not for an Indian, but for me. I like it sometimes and other times I want to come running back to Thailand or Cambodia or Vietnam or Indonesia or anywhere but India! I want to be be surrounded by beautiful women, I want to eat food that doesn't give me gas, I want to not be stared at - oh wait, cancel Vietnam - and I want to learn a language I want to learn. I'm sorry, but Hindi just doesn't interest me.
So, get the fuck out of India, ya fucking bastard! Hey, give me some more time. I'll eventually leave it to the hippies. And the people lounging outside my room playing the flute. For fuck's sake, put that shit on mute! Almost needed a beer because of that. Instead, I put in the ear buds and saved a little sanity in the process. Got these four Spanish hippies playing the flute and singing Kumbaya outside my room. I paid for it, all $4 of it, and I expect some peace & quiet! I liked the owner of this place, but the people he let's in here....
I think I feel better now. I need some rest before I rise at dawn to walk along the ghats and hopefully take some quality snaps while the lighting is good. And try not to get scammed or give to unholy "holy men" along the way. That will happen unless I'm still not feeling recharged after sleeping on another hard bed. Or if I find myself excessively squatting over the porcelain toilet in the floor. I hope not, but you can be sure I'll tell you all about it. Sweet dreams.
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