Bangalore finally, but still journeying

This will be short, because I'm going to write a longer one on Sunday, but I'm in Bangalore, I will be moving again soon to the school, and life is still pretty crazy, I've met some very cool Indian people, the Aiesecers who I will be dealing with on and off for the rest of my time here, and other interns who seem like good peeps.

More details to be filled in later, but hopefully I can get my internet working so I can put up pictures and the like, otherwise I'll have to figure out some other way to do this audio and photo sharing.

Did anyone realize India was crazy?

I feel like I may not be the first one to realize this, but I am definitely the first me to realize this, and it truly is unbelievable, I wish I could describe it to you in words, photos or audio, which I will try to do, but there is no way possible that even a fraction of the degree to which this country has surprised, astounded, and scared me shitless can be conveyed through any medium other than a person's actual presence. That being said...

I could tell you something to the order of, "holy shit, half the day we were driving in the opposing traffic's lane...!!" but you might not think this is so bad, it certainly doesn't sound that way to me, so let me expand the description a little. We have in India, these little taxis called autorickshaws, I rented one this morning to buy a ticket at the train station, now I imagined my life was in danger the night before when I arrived (speaking of, I've only been here 24 hours, it feels like a year), when I was in a taxi weaving through traffic like an insane chicken playing soccer with its head cut off. This was nothing, instead, this "auto" is a small cage, intended to trap you until you either forfeit the required amount of money, or your life, when a slightly larger "cage" barrels into you because the driver decided to cut across a 5way street with his eyes closed. Luckily I gave my driver money before he reached that zenlike state of driving, but what we did do took a couple years off. Imagine driving on the wrong side of the road, passing a bicycle with half a family on it, prevented from braking by the "auto" behind you, and quickly approaching a 10 ton bus with literally 130+ people hanging from every side. Try and imagine a way to avoid it... I couldn't... so my life passed before my eyes and while it was doing so Kumar the driver pulled off some magic, and I missed it, every time for the countless times I almost died, I could not figure out what kind of magic he was doing. But I think it had something to do with the cigarette he was constantly smoking or cell phone he was using.

Anyway, saw some cool stuff, one of Jesus' apostles tombs' is here, Saint Thomas, so I checked that out, shoes off, in this crazy pure white church in the middle of the most dilapidated part of town...

My brain is frying, I'll write more later, but I got some good pictures of some indian kids, here is part of an email I sent to a friend earlier...

I miss everyone at home right now, or rather, I would miss them all if I wasn't scared shitless everytime I leave an airconditioned room (of which there are fewer than you might think). I'm in this city called chennai, and the fucking place is the dirtiest, smelliest, craziest-driving, dilpidated hole of a city that i have ever been to. Think Mexico, then think of how nice it would be to be in the shittiest part of Mexico if you were here. That said, I thinking I'm starting to like it, although if I were to hire peopleto work for me here, the first one would be a masseuse to get all the stress from almost dying every few minutes. I really am beginning to understand what they meant when they said, "you will find god when you get to india." Speaking of God, I visited a few of his pals today, from all sorts of religions, most of them unpronouncable, and also the tomb of St Thomas, the only other catholic other than St Peter to have a church built on top of his grave (according to their description). There was this cool cat cab driver who used and abused my kindness, which I allowed because it was my first full day in India, I hope he feels privileged that I let him take advantage of me, because he was the last one. But I basically used his services for the entire day, and he used me to check out some tourist shops (from which he got commission), but I didn't buy anything, to the chagrin of every single one of the vendors, but I managed to assuage their dismay at my ingratitude by telling them I would be back the next day... I actually have a 6am train to another crazy place, but it'll be air-conditioned (this is also the last time I get to spurge a little while travelling, I figure its ok while I get my feet under me, but today I already changed hotels because the one last night was raping me), which is good. Anyway, I can't begin to imagine how to tell you what this has been like, but I'm going to be uploading some audio descriptions from my days so at least you can hear and see a small portion of how crazy this situation is, I've been taking a few pictures and I use my little mp3 player to record my experiences while walking and driving around.

I can feel my brain energy fading, and I may need the rest of it to make it back to my hotel, I hope you are well and I hope you don't mind if I post this up on my website http://lifelikeschaos.nomadlife.org.

Does the luck hold up?

Well, I would say that you would not believe, but I think you would, knowing me...

You know how everyone was telling me "now Evan, don't miss your flight... Evan, make sure you make your flight... Remember to check your flight Evan..." Funny how you all jinxed me! I appreciate it, because of your constant recriminations, I missed my flight.

Apparently, the flight I was supposed to get on was a joint venture with ANA (acronym unknown) and United, and was scheduled to leave earlier than what my ticket said, this normally would not have been a problem, except for the fact that where my flight was supposed to be, was the exact same flight, on Japan Airlines... same plane, same destination, same departure time, everything, just two different terminals and a whole bunch of confused looks.

Imagine my surprise when the 4' 9" lady I just handed my ticket to comes running up to me, grabs me from where I'm about to set down my bag, and says in quick unintelligible English... "a;sldkfsjadf dafdsa asdflkj" and so I, quickly realizing that my only chance to get to Singapore is quickly fading away, attempt to shrink in the hopes she's got the wrong person. I think the only thing going for me was the feeling of dreamlike lucidity that had been pervading my entire trip so far... and with that hypnotic state in hand, I languidly ran after her with my once-heavy bag floating on my shoulder.

To my and their astonishment, I had somehow completed a 40 min walk to another terminal gate and departure zone, without one person stopping to question me at the multiple checkpoints why I had a United Airlines flight heading towards a domestic online carriers area. Naturally, I can not blame anyone but myself, because I also made the same error, but honestly folks, whats the deal, am I really the first person to become lost like this, it seemed like everyone I passed who looked at my ticket gave me a strange look (unbeknownst to me, never having seen strange Japanese looks until I was given the same look with knowledge of my error in hand), and then waved me on, it seems that once confronted with a dilemma never encountered before, all of these Japanese froze, thought, froze again, then waved me on. Only once I was on the wrong plane, all the way on, did they finally realize (to my detriment) their error, and then proceeded to freeze and try to think while holding up a flight I could have easily fit on if it happened to be in their procedure book. However, this is not to say I'm disappointed, I made the error, and cannot blame anyone else, and their customer service once they figured out a procedure, was very calming and helpful, its just too bad it took so long.

So longer story shorter, I get the same flight for the next day after some more confused looks (which I now recognize), and I set off for Narita to book up at a guesthouse. Still in a daze, this becomes difficult because, while I know where it is, I pass by the sign, maybe, roughly, approximately 7-8 times, confused bewildered, and angry, until finally I call the place again, talk to another confused soul who can't understand what the hell I'm thinking, and then walk a block, to find the guesthouse right next to the sign I had looked at every single time I passed by the block... Irritating to say the least.

Boring details of night... Boring details of night... Flat mattress, good sushi, good sushi, freaking good sushi! Tasted like roasted marshmellow that slid off your tongue, collapsed in your mouth with a taste of chocolate, all while managing to look like a dark oversized piece of birdshit. Delicious!

Get to bed early and wake up to the sounds of traffic buzzing past the guesthouse incessantly and I figure, shoot, there's so much traffic, I better get up before it gets too late, I might miss my flight... not much chance of that at 7am when my flights at 5:40pm, but I decide to stay up. After a little brushing up on my Japanese, I head out into the big blue world, and realize its only blue because its raining so hard, and its actually grey above that if you could look up for long enough to see the sky without getting water splashed in your eyes... so I head back in, steal an umbrella, and go for it, tourist map, camera, and notebook in hand. This is when I realized, in Japan, I think they make umbrellas to fit the Japanese... luckily, I did not feel like dry legs very much, and so was not perturbed by the sloshy feeling everywhere.

Now I must tell you, I did not expect to like Japan, everything so far was not so much a let down, but more, a simple satisfaction of low expectations. This was until I reached the temple, and finally found the solitude I needed to rest my soul after weeks of turmoil... This redemption of the luck I knew lay within, and perhaps its not so much luck as my inability to hold still while travelling, but by god, it was amazing (mom I got some pretty good pictures that i've been editting in photoshop, well not much, but I've been changing the raw settings as I convert them, and they've been turning out pretty good, I'll have to get your opinion though), these temples ranging in age from just a few years since being, to more than a millenium for the oldest.

I walk a few km in the rain, and thoroughly drenched, empty stomach (best to contemplate I think), find these temples I read about. Stunning. And in the first one I walked into I found monks performing a ritualistic offering of wood and fire to their Buddha to the spine-vibrating waves of massive drums, with keen whistling providing a backdrop to the monks' highpitched intonations. I don't know how to describe it in words, and I wish I would have recorded it on my mp3 player, which I started using later to describe things as a I wandered. And wandered did I, far and wide through manicured forests and along shallow manmade lakes, with immaculate 3 meter shrines hiding behind large cedars, choosing not to follow the path of their brothers, who often sat on rocks in shaded waters.

One of the next temples was a 100+ foot pagoda built in 1987 and dedicated by world leaders to the pursuit of international peace. I must tell you, the fearsome Buddha and his guards certainly made me think it was possible... I actually met my first other westerner while wandering around barefoot through this many muralled mirage of tapestried halls and high latticed ceilings. Shannon, this lady on her way back to Seattle from a five week stay in Vietnam, finally let me express some of the sensory overload bashing my brain into humbled submission. We talked and shared and had a fabulous go around for a quarter hour, and then departed our happy ways, content in the knowledge we were not the only ones astounded and impressed by the magnitude and beauty of these temple grounds... I can go on for awhile about these temples, but i need to get to Singapore.

I get there early, plenty of time, get more confused looks as I explain to the ticket lady my situation before she issues my ticket, and she still doesn't quite get it, and so put me in the class of people who don't give themselves enough time to get to their flight... and gave me specific directions and instructions about making all the way out to the gate, telling me how long it would take and pointing me in every direction... I'd hate to see the Japanese I dealt with given a real "out of the box" situation.

I help this girl get her luggage up above me, and it turns out she is a Poli Sci graduate like myself, getting her PHd from Princeton in Comparative Political and Techonology Transfer studies between major Asian economic states. She also did her undergrad in Int'l Relations, so we talked for most of the flight, well half the flight, then we both fell asleep until we were woken up by some turbulence doing its best to test the bolts on the wings. Hopefully we can stay in touch, although she's a little worried about my plans to become president coupled with my realpolitik slightly eye-for-an-eye political views.

I get into Singapore, and of course, low and behold, my reservation is gone at the hostel I planned to stay at, but I talked to this nice lady at the tourist office (the best tourist office I have ever visited) and she hooked me up, and as I'm about to grab a taxi, she waves me over, introduces me to the owner of the hostel who dropped my reservation, who took me in his car to my new hostel... craziness, he's pretty cool and loves Whistler too.

The Importance of being Procastinatory

In most ways dull lifetimes are enjoyed by all those who prepare too much. Where is the anger and frustration of realizing you have to turn your car around two hours after you leave to grab the wallet and cameras that were inadvisably placed behind the flowerpots... Why would you forgo the stress that not having medical or travel insurance until the last minute always brings...

I think if you are always prepared, you may always be satisfied, but you are rarely happy, you never experience the sense of relief when the police walk away with someone else, and everything actually does work out. Where is the elation, the surprise, the joy, the pure relaxation that can only come after you have been so stressed, frustrated, angry, and furious. Its simply not there.

Now granted, there are some things you would rather prepare fairly ardently for... skydiving out of a plane for instance, a good time not to procrastinate on the packing of the parachute until you're in the jumpline. Another may be scubadiving, probably don't want to find out at 200 meters under the ocean that you accidently filled the O2 tank with N2.

But when it comes to the everyday mundane aspects of life, a little stress is necessary for a person to feel alive. Everyone knows the boring person that everything goes right for, but that noone wants to hang around. Personally I'd rather be challenged under stressful conditions when an important choice needs to be made that could have been made long ago and prepared for, and decided on, with repercussions measured and weighed... well I'd rather try and figure out all that junk in the few seconds before the judge asks ME for MY alibi. Sure my memory of my "alibi" may not hold up, but whatever, its all in good fun, and far more interesting than figuring it out beforehand (although this may fall under the "be prepared beforehand")

I just think those people who are always prepared for everything are missing out on the excitement of finding out something about yourself in the moment, which becomes easier the more you practice, and practice makes perfect.

Yeah...

India??

Time’s a ticking away, I feel like that big hand in the sky is looking at me like a tiny speck of dust that needs to be blown out of its protective clockcase and into the big, dirt filled expanse of the world. Or something like that. It just seems amazing that in only a few days I’ll be taking off from a slightly dingy airport terminal in a 40 year old plane to explore places that have so many people the residents must think I am an idiot for thinking I’m on an expedition. Luckily this determination is almost unanimous even among the people who do know me. Yet its time to test the bloody waters and hopefully no more giant Mako sharks come to visit me, one is more than enough. Just a few more things to collect before I head out into the blue yonder (how many departure references can I make), a few pounds of saltwater taffe, life preserver for any stray tsunamis that roll a couple hundred miles inland, personal defense robot for all the viciously combative peace-loving Hindus, water purification plant because I don’t want to have to boil water everyday, midget, hand grenades, samurai sword, antiballistic missile launcher (sans missiles…that’s illegal!), calculator for calculating stuff, polar bear and monkey repellent.

That oughta do it. I’m kind of expecting my first encounter with Indian’s to proceed something like this…
4pm: Land at the airport, check contents of all my bags and make sure contents are secure, prepare for thievery test…

4:15pm: Depart plane and walk towards baggage claim, collect bag, 10 rupees for baggage watcher, notice left shoe gone, its ok, I brought another, but when I prepare to put it on, prevented by strange advanced foot disease mysteriously doubling size of the foot and turning it orange.

4:30pm: Limp into customs, almost denied entry until they realize I didn’t contract disease on the plane, pay customs agent 150 rupees to stamp passport with smiley face, prepare to put passport back, notice half of the pages have been stolen out of passport.

4:35pm: Look around, oddity in vision, reach up with my hand and notice right eyeball has been surgically removed, search through laptop bag, realize mouse was left when they stole my laptop and input the mouse ball into my socket

4:40pm: Bump into Indian police officer, bribe him to leave me alone, begin recovery from kidney operation

4:45pm: Find ATM to withdraw more Indian rupees, watch in disappointment as ATM eats card, do a 360 turn looking for any help, return gaze to ATM to watch it calmly walking away.

4:50pm: Realize foot infection spread to other foot after right shoe was stolen by ATM machine as well.

4:55pm: Sit down on my bag in despair, land on the ground, ass is cold, delighted to find out pant pockets have been taken without having ripped the pants

5:00pm: Begin wait in line at US embassy behind other orange-footed stranded shirtless Americans, notice my eye itching, grasp that it must be the mouseball, ask the passing thief taking my security belt for some hand oil, told he was busy and couldn’t be bothered, pestered him some more, finally he gave me my lotion he had stolen from me, squirted it into the socket to lubricate the ball, surprised by the cry of indignation from the migrant pigeons taking up roost.

5:01pm: Feet meld to ground, become new sidewalk exhibit outside US embassy, resigned to commercialization of myself.

Great sleep

Luckily for me, preparing for the LSAT is the easiest thing in the world, I had the test down flat, easy money, nowhere for it to hide, that is… until I got sick a week before. Two times a year… that’s the average amount that I get sick, and one of them has to be a week before one of the most important tests in my life!!!!! Well, luckily I had enough time to recover, or should have, but my body didn’t seem to agree, so I spent my birthday, a valuable week of paychecks, and most of my allotted time for future education preparation, all bundled up on an admittedly fairly comfortable couch.

The night before the test was ok and I managed to handle the residual sickness and stress, and had a fairly sound sleep, except for the eardrum that kept on pressurizing so I couldn’t hear anything, the fact that my dog pissed in my bed, which I found out after noticing that my leg was wet (and seriously pondering whether or not I had pissed myself from stress, which I hasten to point out I’ve never done, and ruled out because of the localized wet zone around my calf, something I could not have done in those pajamas without matter transmission piss control, a technology they should really think about pursuing), the realization after I took a bath that somehow water had spilled all around the house, and the goddamn soon-to-be mangled squirrel that decided to act as an informal alarm clock for 2 hours at 5am… The perfect sleep after a week of sickness, exactly what I needed for a 6 hour exam…