Taj delayed

Alright, so Rich is in extreme pain, with a sinus congestion, aches all over and a 'stabbing pain' in his chest, I think right near his heart.

I, of course, am the picture of calm. I ran out and got juice and water, and now here I am blogging my S.O.S! Just kidding, I'm sure he'll be fine, or he would have said something like "I need medical attention." I mean, it was difficult for him to say "Could you get me juice and water" so maybe I shouldn't expect words with multiple syllables.

Hmmm.

I'm experiencing everything but the stabbing chest pain. In Varanasi, I was in worse shape, and fortunately Rich promised there that he would cash the rest of my traveller's cheques to make sure I got the best quality wood for my funeral pyre (sandalwood, folks, it's not cheap). Also he seemed a little too relieved that we weren't that far from a burning ghat.

Walking past the main burning ghat, one walks past piles and piles of wood, and it's quiet and solemn, like walking through a cemetery back home. Walking through the old alley we passed one funeral procession, and three funeral processions passed us on the main road while we headed back to our hotel. When I say funeral procession, this means 4 bodies wrapped in beautiful cloth were carried past us, on bamboo-like stretchers.

It reminded me of my father telling me how back in 1986, they took my grandfather back to the village from the hospital in the city because if he'd died in the hospital, no wake, but if he died in the village, they could have a wake. Thus it was my father who prepared his own father's body for the wake. I still think about that, how it must have been for him, how that's was expectation, this is what one does for their family member, it's not a stranger that you pay at a funeral home for this service. (Though according to the guidebook, the folks who prepare the funeral pures in India are on a level with 'untouchables'.) Two years ago, at my uncle's funeral, I was grateful for the open casket so I could say good-bye, but when I was a kid I was horrified by that tradition.

Something just scurried past my foot.

I thought I was imaging it but when I looked under the desk, the very helpful friendly internet store owner says "What's happened?" and jumps into action, looking around....so, like he know's what's happened, some of the wild life just ran past my foot.

Being here is like Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom meets McDonaldland's Most Dangerous Petting Zoo.

I mentioned the bulls (though not the one that was HUGE and turned it's head to graze my arm as I tried to go around it in the Varanasi shopping centre - which was the nicer, cleaner back alley area, not the old city. That time, I also flinched, but as I said to Rich "Do I get some credit for not screaming?" Apparently, I do get bonus points for that.)

There are also monkeys and mangey dogs. According to the guidebooks, 30, 000 Indians a year die from rabies, from being bitten by monkeys or dogs. Hellooooooo? The helpful travel clinic folk didn't mention rabies, and I got shots a go-go when I went. Nor did anyone talk to me about Malaria medication, since I wasn't going south, 'the mosquitos shouldn't be a problem'.

I've seen a few things scurrying by the back alleys, and my little friend here at the internet cafe is actually quite tiny (he came out to say hello again. He's actually a grey little mouse. Or perhaps a baby rat. How would I know? I like cats. "Say hello to everyone back home Raj!" I've named him already and now were buddies. He's promised not to run across my foot, and I promised not to scream like a schoolgirl)

I've seen very few cats, that's why these things get to scurry with wild abandon, they're living it up. And then there's the fabulous bugs. And there was that lizard, but I ony just found out about him, I didn't actually see him, so I'm going to treat it like the Lochness Monster situation. I didn't see it, and no one can prove his existence.

What am I talking about? Allow me to explain: On our last day in Varanasi at the fabulous Open Hand Cafe, we were being assisted by "You're welcome so much" Mark. He points out the paper to Rich, and so Rich begins reading the Times of India. Shortly thereafter, he mentions there's another article about the "hassles" women tourists have been receiving in Northern India.

We'd already come across one article several days before this, and of course, I had my minor panic attack because the article mentioned molestation and rapes. So when Rich is done with the paper, I ask to see it, read the article for myself and try not to panic. To be honest, I feel safe - extremely on my guard all the time, but still safe. I haven't been out after dark by myself to go anywhere but very short distances, and I make no eye contact, and am consistently on my guard.

But I say to Rich "How come you didn't mention that it says here Agra is the noted as the worst place for women to get hassled?" since our next stop was Agra, I'm now writing to y'all from Agra, hassle & danger capital of the country, according to the Times.

"Same way I didn't want to mention the lizard in the bathroom till we left the Guest house."

I stared at him and was totally blank, thinking, I must have misheard the guy.

"What? What lizard?"

"The one in the bathroom."

"Uhm. I don't follow-"

"I heard a little splash yesterday when I went into the bathroom, and there was this lizard, about this big" Rich holds up his hands like fisherman do, when they say 'I caught a trout this big' and demonstrates the size of said lizard.

It apparenty was the size of my foot, in width and in length, a little longer. I wear a size 7 1/2 shoe. You can all do the visual math yourselves.

"I saw it in the bucket. The bucket you washed your hair in. It scurried away and hid behind the hot water tank."

For the record, I didn't wash my hair in that bucket, that bucket was gross, I used the shower head.

"But that would mean it was there the whole time we were there, I kept the bathroom door closed because of the wet floor and the mosquitos."

"Probably."

So that would mean that while I had that crazy bird that kept trying to bust into the bathroom every morning between 7 to 8 a.m. (it would wake Rich up, that's how loud that bird was, and I just kept the door shut in case it did manange to peck on through) I also had a lizard behind me, hiding behind the hot water tank. It's enough to make me wonder if I really require hot water.

Wild Kingdom. I'm telling you they could use some cats here, things would scurry less.

No scurry, No worry.

According to our Travel agent the next place we're going to is very nice, very relaxing. Our travel agent (the young man booking our bus ticket to Pushkar) also quadruples as a Money Exchanger/Jeweller/Hash dealer. Truly, I've never met so many multi-taskers in my life. In fact, when I came into the internet place today, the owner Ali asked me "Where going after Agra?" and wondered how much I paid for my ticket, and pointed out his jewellery booth to me.

I mentioned to him that while I bought my bus ticket I was also perusing jewellery, and everyone seems to have 4 different businesses on the go at any given time, and usually 3 of them are even legal.

"Yes," he said, "Everyone has big family to support."

Yes, indeed, it's quite a big family.

Apparently, my Hindi name Maya means money. That made me laugh. Wasn't that a clever name for Wandana to give me?

"Hello, my name is Money, please view me like a walking ATM machine, when you're finished objectifying me, of course. Please take your time. Don't worry, no hurry, No chicken, no curry."

Shanti, friends, Shanti.