The nightmare is over

Tip: Don’t believe everything you read

The nightmare that was India is over, but I’ll probably give it a second go after Nepal. I still want to see a few places if my sanity allows. For now, I happily reside in a Nepalese Hotel just over the border even though I haven’t officially passed through immigration. I almost feel at home. I can seriously sense the vibe is way different already after limited interactions with the hotel staff and at a local shop. If that’s the case, I might just stay here til the end. What’s the point in torturing myself just so I can say I’ve had ‘the India experience’?

The 8 hour advertised bus ride from Varanasi to Sonauli turned out to be 13. I don’t know why I always believe what I hear and read. But I read it on the Internet! I was stricken with diarrhea this morning and tried to empty the contents of my colon before any attempt at catching a bus let alone putting on underwear.  I got to the bus station at 10, a couple hours behind my intended schedule, and we departed about half past. It was a cheap ride, approximately $4 to get to the border, but we clanked and rattled all the way there.

I could not have made more noise with a sledge hammer and a pile of corrugated sheet metal. It was truly un-fucking-bearable not that any of the locals seemed to have a problem with it. I used to wonder why I ever bought an iPod because I hardly ever used it. Now I know. It was a lifesaver as it made an insane ride into just an arduous journey. It was akin to being on the worst rollercoaster you’ve ever been on. Not enough to make you throw up, but toss you around a bit and make you want off not long after you got on. It was also extremely dusty. You should see my clothes. I doubt if those stains are coming out.

Anyway, we made it, that’s the main thing. And I didn’t squirt my pants. That would have been embarrassing and I know the driver wouldn’t have stopped. He would have just kicked me off the bus. I drank 2 liters of water on the journey, one filled with oral rehydration salts and one filled with Gatorade mix. I ate 3 bananas and let me tell you I hate bananas! I remember them being good when you have the runs. I also drank a Sprite and swallowed some green pearls – some natural medicine for diarrhea relief. They seemed to have helped except I was burping the minty oils for the duration. Or maybe it was the Tartrazine Yellow or the Brilliant Blue.

I've got a sore on the roof of my mouth. I knew I shouldn’t have turned off the lights prior to going down on that girl in Kolkata’s red light district. I usually like to see what I’m doing. A moment of weakness. I also have a canker sore...joy. To the world. And scratches on my calf and back from where the rickshaw crashed into me last night. My calf still feels raw as if it’s in the process of being infected. I was wondering if I should apply some iodine last night as I lied there paralyzed with exhaustion. I probably have numerous fungal infections that have yet to manifest. Waiting patiently.

I really hate to talk shit about India. I was really looking forward to finally getting a chance to see this country. And now, just after ten days, I am running away. People say ‘follow your heart’ and well my heart is saying get the fuck outta here! It’s an amazing sensory experience, I’ll give it that and that is in part what I expected. The stankiest stenches followed by amazing aromas. And it’s incredibly noisy. I thought Vietnam would have prepared me for this, but the horns are just louder here. Every motherfucker on a motorcycle or auto rickshaw driver is beeping the shit out of his horn and that is jarring to my sensibilities. I should have worn cotton in my ears as I’m an overly noise sensitive individual.

India is also extremely hot, at least right now. And dry. And full of dudes. And when and if you see a lady she usually has an inner tube hanging out of her sari. Not attractive. I’d say 9 out of 10 people are men, but occasionally there are more ladies present, say watching the people enter a temple or seeing kids walk home from school. But I can’t remember one time, one single time, when I heard an Indian woman’s voice. A child’s morning hello, the hotel owner’s mom’s feeble mumbles and a few street beggars moaning for change yes, but that’s it and that’s weird.

INDIA. I'm Never Doing It Again. I definitely didn't make that up, but I'd agree! I’ll leave it to the Hindus, the hippies and the homeless. The food is great I’ll say that again and again, but one bout with diarrhea will put you off from eating it right away because hey, it kinda looks like diarrhea. And you don’t want to think about that dal fry coming out the same way it went in. My stomach is a little queasy just thinking about it. I think I’ll stick to the processed cookies. At least there shouldn’t be feces in that, but in India, I think feces is in the air, which means you're shit out of luck.