I am about to die. Emily’s not going to make it either. What will I tell her parents? Oh yeah, I'll be dead. I knew we should’ve filled out that Notify In Case Of Emergency page in our passports. Who’s going to take care of the dog? And I forgot to delete that photo of me peeing on the beach in Rwanda. How am I going to explain that one...oh yeah, I’ll be dead. Dear lord, make me a bird so I can fly far, far away from here. Dear lord, make me a bird....
This is basically my entire thought process for 14 straight hours during our “simple” drive from Mumbai to Goa. You know that feeling you get when you lean back in a chair and almost fall over but then you don’t? I had that feeling for 14 straight hours.
It started out so easy. We needed to get from Mumbai to Goa and didn’t want to wait for the overnight train. We hooked up with a former cop from Toronto, rented a car and driver and headed south. That sounds simple, right? Unfortunately, the western side of India was experiencing their 100 year flood and our driver was a 21-year old named Santos (I’m spelling that phonetically - it could have easily been Saounamoulatous) that spoke zero English and was either too young to grasp the finality of death or had an unbelievably strong faith in the afterlife. Either way, it was the scariest thing I’ve ever done in my life. The cop seemed fine. I was beyond freaked out.
It seems like that’s the way things work over here; you move from one near-disaster to the next with everything working itself out in the end. Usually.
In India it really is about MORE. More people. More poverty. More smells. More animals. More pollution. More destinations. More smiles. More colors. More sounds. More everything. Sensory overload in the truest sense of the word.
Just stepping off the plane is an experience to remember. First, it’s the veritable buffet of smells that hits you: best described as a delicate bouquet of curry, B.O., burning tires, and urine. (Emily debates me on the curry part.) The second thing you notice is the heat - I can’t see it on the map, but India is situated in the middle of a red-hot clay oven. In the south of the country, the air’s so moist you can chew it. In the north, so dry that it’s...well, it’s really dry. Third, this place is basically a 1.3 million square mile petting zoo. Dogs, goats, stoned-looking cows, sheep, camels and monkeys all vying for the same, extremely limited road space. Yeah, road space. It doesn’t make any sense but in India every living thing attempts to hang out in the road.
Goa, ground zero for the hippy revolution, was our first stop once we survived the satanic introduction into India’s roadways. It was the travel destination for everybody that was somebody in the 60’s and 70’s. Namely, the Beatles put the place on the map in the early 60’s which really kicked open the travel floodgates. Like a lot of hyper-growth tourist destinations (i.e. Acapulco, Fort Lauderdale, Six Flags), they tend to get loved to death. That, sadly, was how we felt about Goa. Maybe 6 weeks on the road has left us spoiled, but we found ourselves a bit underwhelmed by the place. The scenery is stunning, and I’m certain there are great places to get-away-from-it-all, but it’s kinda touristy and uninteresting. The biggest letdown was the Dominos Pizza right down the road from our guesthouse. They did have spicy paneer masala pizza on the menu so it wasn’ttotally American.
After 2 days, Emily and I hopped a southbound overnight train for the state of Kerala. You guessed it, we headed for the world famous Keralan Backwaters just outside Alleppey. Actually, we’d never heard of it either until the day before when we decided to ditch Goa and start looking at where to go next. The greatest thing about India, other than the food and the people, is the absolute wealth of amazing stuff right in front of you, and it’s all within reach by, at most, a 40 hour ride and a $16 dollar train ticket. This place is unbelievable in its destination depth and breadth. The India Lonely Planet - or The Book as it’s known by travelers - is bigger than the entire African Continent Lonely Planet. It’s not a book so much as it’s a brick (if I was ever in a book fight, this would definitely be my weapon of choice). The Backwaters are on most Things To Do Before You Die lists and almost all travel journal/bucket lists. Again, we’d never heard of it but it sounded cool so we booked a trip on an overnight houseboat. The photos don’t do it justice, but it’s definitely a “must do.”
I’ve heard that in India it’s not a matter of if you get sick, it’s when. So far, Emily and I have thrown caution to the wind without being stupid - we’ve eaten fresh food from the street stalls, brushed our teeth with sink water, hugged the kids, etc. and have yet to go through that dubious right of passage. One India tip we received from a seasoned traveler was that when you do catch “it” just go to the nearest pharmacy and point at your gut then at your butt and buy whatever the guy offers you. Sage advice - hope we don’t have to use it.
We’re heading north to Udaipur in Rajasthan to settle in and brace ourselves for Diwali, the annual Festival of Lights.
Namaste and Subh Diwali.
