I’m pooped today. I feel fluey. Is it malaria? I don’t think so. My nose is running and my throat hurts. I think I just want to whine and whinge briefly. Wah-wah. I’m just excited to get rid of a little weight in my backpack and take a few aspirins.
Six weeks into the trip and a few unused items:
1). Voice Recorder: I don’t know how to work it. Never have, never will.
2). Live Your Life the Buddhist Way: I bought this book at SFO. I figured maybe I’d absorb some of that inner peace stuff. I read two chapters and then couldn’t remember what I’d read. I kept reading the bio of the author. He looks so normal. I left the book at my hotel yesterday. I never made it to Dharamsala, either.
3). 70 tampons: These take up a huge amount of space. Some guy convinced me to double the number I’d packed the night before I left. And I believed him. Though, they do NOT sell anything except for diapers here so perhaps he was right. Sigh.
4). Mosquito net: I can’t figure out what to attach it to on the ceiling. It has five corners. Plus, it's fit for a pygmy, not me.
5). Mr. Men Sticker Book: I bought this in Malaysia for Grayson. I forgot to send it from there. Daulat and Jacq say that the Indian posties aren’t to be trusted. So, I’ll carry it home. Along with the five pack of A4 envelopes I bought.
A few items I’m surprised I’ve used:
1). Thermal underwear: India hot?
2). Perfume: Instead of a bath. I had bought makeup at Chanel and then demanded that they give me 10 sample portions of all their perfumes. I smell like a walking September edition of Vogue.
3). Cycling socks: for cold nights in bed.
4). Lyle Lovett CD: I sing along to it on the trains. Mostly, I do this just to spite Melinda Whitehouse, our music editor. She says I have crappy music taste.
A few packing tips I’m pleased with:
1). Toothpaste into a film canister: I still haven’t finished it.
2). All valuables and breakables into felt shoe bags: eg. laptop, camera, external cd-rom drive
Unfortunately, that’s it.
This morning
I left the safari and shared a taxi with a family to the nearest railway
station. I still can’t believe that one would actually take a taxi for
five hours. I get moody about having to pay for a taxi to SFO. Tips for
passengers in cars in India: avoid sitting in the front seat. I learned
this a few weeks back but how quickly I forget. 
You
see, if you sit in the front, you’re likely to look straight ahead. And
that can make for a sweaty journey. Leave it to the driver. If you’re
going to crash (and die) it’s probably best to be unaware of the situation.
We passed one motorcycle that had skid into the corner. No one was hurt.
OF course, neither of the guys on the motorcycle was wearing a helmet.
It’s unusual to see anyone wear a helmet on a motorcycle here.
Our taxi took us to Coimbature. I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to spend the night here or try my luck at getting a seat on the train and head on towards Kerala. Kerala promises coconut trees, strong-minded women, a whiff of Communism, and a high literacy rate (a fact that NPR frequently points out—the average literacy rate here is a few percent higher than the average literacy rate in the states). Coimbature was decidedly dusty and hot. But my nose was running and the thought of seven hour train journey wasn’t appealing. A look at a couple of the local hotel rooms suddenly made those Indian Style Toilets on Southern Indian Railway look mighty friendly.
The Chief Reservations Officer (in his own office, a glass island) told me that the train was sold out. No, he told me that there were no tickets left. But, that if I went and spoke to the conductor on the train when it came in, I’d be able to get on board. I started to panic a little. These trains are lonnnnnnng. And they don’t stop for very much time either. It seemed a task to find the conductor.
The conductor said I could get on. I was the only person in my carriage. The conductor brought me tea. He said he had to be nice to me because I was a foreigner and he wanted to make a good impression. Later he wanted to know, just like this:
1). What country?
2). You have mother and father? (I rudely replied to this where did he think I came from?)
3). You have brothers and sisters?
4). You have boyfriend? (Yes, I said. Then he slapped me and said, You naughty girl!)
I kept reading. Then he grabbed my arm and said, Come with me! I told him to piss off. It was a short train ride, only eight hours.
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