Goodby to the Queen & Rich

Yesterday, Rich and I shared his last Hello to the Queen, as he was leaving early this morning on a bus for Jodhpur, to then catch his 30+ hour train back to Kolkata, and possibly on to Darjeeling.

Recent favourite Rich quote, upon observing a male tourist: "I think camoflauge pants are the last thing I would wear to a 3rd World country. You're pretty much asking them to stick a gun in your face."

Bu-bye!

Sigh.

Much like the circumstances that arose involving my almost complete nakedness in the presence of total strangers in unusual and frosty environs, I was really hoping to avoid finding myself alone in Northern India, making my way like some kind of confident, intrepid dame. I mean, who do I think I am? I'm Canadian, not Australian.

And it doesn't matter how many times I watched "Raiders of the Lost Ark" when I was a kid, Marion Ravenwood I am not.

I was moved into a different room today, but I am still on the ground floor, so the mouse that Rich decided to tell me about late yesterday could decide to come and visit me there as well. I believe I neglected to mention that one morning in Agra, I was woken up at 4:30 a.m. by Rich making a lot of of noise going through a plastic bag, for quite some time. I fell asleep before I could ask him what the heck he was doing. I thought his chest infection had perhaps spread to his frontal lobe and he'd lost it. (Please note: this is also why showing me an armpit would be a wasted act. I am not capable of diagnosing anyone or anything)

While I waited for the door of this room to be fixed (Me: Uhm, sorry, what's wrong with the door? Can it bar the entrance or not? Babu's reply: Of course madam, but if wind coming, door open little, you will feel cold now alone in room. Me: I'm not worried about the wind, really, I'd just like a door that works. ) I spoke with the Hotel manager, Babu, who put me at ease saying "Your friend has leaving, please be careful in the market place now."

After discussing God, women travelling in India alone, and European culture versus Indian culture, Babu decides I am a good person and says "You having other friends in Pushkar, not worrying. Actually I knowing from first meeting, you are good, okay to stay this hotel."

If the hot water works the same, I'm all set. This region's been experiencing quite the cold snap, at one yoga class I could see my breath.

It looks like I'll be able to practice my Hindi, Babu insists I try a few words every day, and my internet friend, Rocky (Hindu name, you guessed it, is Rakeesh) is wanting me to teach him yoga "I will call you Madamji, you can teach me yoga. Also I practise my English."

"Kow tum pagallo?" (Are you crazy? I got him to teach me that so I could say it back to him.) "This is not a good idea, I came here to study yoga with an Indian teacher. You should find one, or come and learn from Swamiji with me. A Canadian teaching an Indian yoga? Puh-leeze!"

I left out the 'a stiff, inflexible, cold, tired, coughing Canadian teaching an Indian yoga...' He would be light years ahead anyways because of the squat toilets.

We'll see what happens next. I think I managed to convey that I am not getting up at 5 a.m. to teach him sun salutations (Surya Namaskar) tomorrow. Hard to say with that language barrier.

Main bahut kam hindi janti hun. Translation: I speak very little Hindi.

I repeated the phrase 3 times to Rakeesh, who taught it to me. The last time, I finally said it with the proper pronunciation. Rakeesh said:

"I know."