You don't get love, you give it

When I was traveling last year, I read a lot of books.

One of those books was "Shantaram" by Gregory David Roberts. It's a mammoth book, a colossal undertaking of 944 pages that I braved largely because it was based in my newly-adopted hometown of Mumbai (Bombay), India. Like the author, I too had relocated there, though admittedly on much tamer circumstances. I bought the book on the second day of a 9 day trek in Nepal (after realizing Twilight #2 was nowhere to be found). I still shoulder some guilt for having our 16-year old porter Norbu carry it all those miles.

There's a line in the book, where Roberts ends one of the chapters by writing "You don't get love, you give it." At the time, I wrote it off for a cliche statement. But it has stuck with me since that quiet day in May when I read it, and I find myself lately reflecting back on one of the most amazing years of my life, and realizing just how true it is.

I've been fortunate enough to meet people throughout this year, and have experiences, that I would never have had the courage to even attempt in the first place without the support of so many family and friends. I've found myself thinking a lot about giving versus getting love, as I have been lucky enough to be the recipient of so much love, often when I didn't even deserve it.

Selflessly and completely, people have seriously shown me the love this year. And I keep wondering if I've done the same in return.

Several people have asked me what the highlights were of my time abroad, and one of the first things that comes to mind is my experience teaching in Bombay. The children I taught there are amazing, and as much as I love them, I feel like they gave me so much more love, unconditionally and without question, even while having so little, that it wasn't nearly a fair trade (though I did teach them what "totally awesome" meant, so I tried to show my appreciation on some level).

My entire adventure would not have been possible without my friend Sunitha and her husband Ashwyn who welcomed me not as a guest in their home, but as part of their family. I'm yet to figure out a proper repayment for their kindness, generosity, and sharing of their wealth of knowledge about Bombay (specifically its fine foods, both at home and eating out!) To have that time to spend with Sunitha again was priceless; I hope someday I will have a home as awesome as theirs to host them in (and maybe even on a beach, too!) and try and live up to the high bar that is Indian hospitality.

I'm not sure I ever explained how much it meant to me that friends and family came to visit me--Jessie, Bryan, and Randy--and experience the craziness of India firsthand, but the random motorcycle rides in the dark, the beers for breakfast, and the photo collages of food in Nepal and India will not soon be forgotten. For those friends I traveled with outside of India--Libby, Abdullah, Patti, Sarah and Gareth--the nights out in Mykonos, the kufte in Istanbul, the brewery tours in Ireland/Holland, the MeatBowl in Melbourne all still bring a smile to my face.

The list goes on of all the people who have given me so much love: the D-town winos, who got me bacon when I was fresh off the plane back in Denver in August; Annie K, not only for keeping my car but always being there to listen to all my random boy stories; Carolyn for watching my plants and being a shoulder to lean on; my parents for supporting me even when they think I'm crazy (which, I think is a majority of the time); Maria for encouraging me not to get a real job and to travel more; Jeffy Peeps for being my favorite Peoples; Joe for sending me Newsweeks and Economists in the mail; Nanu for telling me that no one would judge me if I decided I hated India and decided to go home early; Phil for hooking us up with Pemba Sherpa in Nepal; and for everyone that sent me a message while I was gone, that I've seen since I've gotten back over coffee, whiskeys, lunches or beers; who read my blog and (hopefully) enjoyed it; it's been amazing for me to have you all along for the ride the last year with me, through the ups and downs, the rik-shaws and the cows, the dance parties and the sunrises.

I come back to the statement again; with all this love I'm getting, is it true that you don't really get it, but give it?

And then, January 8th marked one year since I departed Denver and flew to Mumbai, unsure of what life held for me but extremely excited, apprehensive, and happy. Now I find myself a few days into the new year, feeling similar, but for so many different reasons. My home is again in Denver, though I haven't had my own "home" yet, as I have been so lucky to have friends like Todd, Emily, Angelique, and Patti that have let me lean on them and literally put a roof over my head. For their graciousness, I am ever grateful. I've reconnected with old friends and met new ones, and set down temporary roots with a new job. My wanderlust hasn't waned, but for right now, I am trying to keep it in check (though trips to South Dakota, Minneapolis, Iowa, and soon Phoenix worked themselves into my itinerary quickly in the nearly five months since I've been back).

When I was in India, my friend Jim and I in Denver wrote snail mail letters back and forth (which were a guarantee to wipe out any inkling of homesickness each time I got one). In one of those letters in February, I remember writing him about how happy I was at that moment, being in India, floundering but exploring, pushing my boundaries, encompassed by novelty and sensory overload and cows and garbage and color. I'm pretty sure the next day I was probably cursing India and all its headaches and shortcomings and lack of infrastructure. But at that moment, as I wrote to my good buddy, my perspective wasn't tainted. It was filled with love of my situation, my experience, my adventure. I was letting the love in, and giving it back.

The journey I set out on last year may have come full circle, as a new one is just beginning. And for that I am extraordinarily grateful. Because of all the things I learned, one of the most important was to not be afraid to give love. I've learned that if you do give it, you may find yourself lucky enough to get it, too. And I hope, out of all the books I've read over the years, I carry that message I came across in Shantaram with me in all my adventures yet to come.

Journey to the center of the earth

Or rather, the center of Turkey and yes, that IS Constantinople
June 10th - 13th, 2009

From Istanbul, Libby and I took an overnight bus to Central Turkey. As you might imagine, overnight buses are not chock-full of amenities, but we reached the conclusion that it could have been worse, despite the lack of sleep. We had booked this leg of our trip through a travel agency in Istanbul, thus we had a tour guide for the day named Alli when we arrived in Cappadocia, and we turned out to be his only clients for the day; thus, a private tour.

Cappadocia is an area unlike anything else in the world; volcanic eruptions some 40 million years ago left the landscape of the region littered with thousands of rock formations which have been dubbed "fairy chimneys". I'll let the photo speak for itself:

Panoramic view of C-docia.

Fairy Chimney + Flowers = Fabulous.

A cluster of shroom-ish fairy chimneys.

The rock formations were multi-purpose: they lent themselves as cave homes and people lived in these all the way up to the 1960s; the caves also housed lots and lots of churches, of which we were able to see some beautiful paintings on the walls done over the past centuries; finally, the caves were also home to our feathered friends the messenger pigeons and you can still see the holes for the pigeon houses in many caves.

Pigeons in their house.

Alli drove us around the area and we also went to a large handmade pottery studio where I realized that, alas, pottery is not my calling, as you can perhaps discern here; I was told not to shift career tracks.

You want me to smoosh what?!?!

Later in the day, we visited Goreme which is a large open air museum featuring several cave churches. I met this fine gentleman there:

Who knew I would meet my fro-soulmate at Goreme?

However, it was scorching hot and Lib and I were dragging from bus, church, cave, and heat fatigue. Alli called us out on it when he pointed to a painting and said to me "Who did I say that was?" And I answered "Jesus". I mean, we were seeing like 80 churches, it had to be a good hunch.
Nope, Wrong Answer. Constantinople was the man. At that point, Jesus seemed close enough, and we just wanted to learn how to say "Best Meatball of my Life." Needless to say, after we asked him how to say that in Turkish, he brought us back to the hotel so we could nap.

Goreme!

Somehow, I had never heard of this region previously; however Budget Travel magazine had, as that night Alli took us to a neighboring village to a restaurant called "Old Greek House" (that's right, Old Greek House in Turkey; there is much Greek influence here) which was featured in BT magazine earlier this year.

After another great meal with excellent wine and lots more kofte, we got in Alli's car once again and traveled just out of the town to see a performance of the Whirling Dervishes at a nearby castle. The Whirling Dervishes perform traditional Turkish dance featuring all male dancers. Lib really enjoyed it, but after running around all day, I must admit to napping for a bit mid-dervish.

The next day, we ventured out early as we had something on the itinerary I was really looking forward to, as it was a first-time experience for me: a hot air balloon ride over the Cappadocia area. The pictures, again, can speak for themselves:

Ballooning it up, up, WAYYYY UP in Cappdocia

Notice I am extremely excited even afterwards when presented with my certificate of flight.

The best part of this photo is the dude on the left fixing his hair.

We continued another full day by seeing some more rock formations with a different guide, and getting accosted by a salesman that wrapped our head's in a turban like concoction (we did not buy one).

I like to accesorize, note the matching green travel shirt.

From there, we trekked through the Red Valley, taking in pigeon holes in the caves, more churches, and then we stumbled upon a man selling tea seemingly in the middle of nowhere, concluding that he has The Best Job in the World.


Our hike was cut short because we needed to meet another girl who was to join us in the afternoon, and so we headed off to have more kofte and meet her, and then drove to another small town which has an underground city which I think was called Meskendir. Despite my claustrophobic tendencies I handled the underground city OK, but preferred the outdoor, open-air activities. Before our tour day ended we caught a panoramic view of the valley and the Ortahisar Castle, and sampled some organic Turkish Viagra (almonds, corn nuts, you know, the usual).

Quite the pad

This man was only selling NATUREL Viagra.

After two packed days in Cappadocia we again headed off to catch another overnight bus the same night, this time to Pammakale. This overnight bus was a little more brutal, and despite my best efforts some of my B.A. was becoming exposed. However, later that day it had passed.

Pammakale is in Central Anatolia, known as the land of the rising sun. Ancient Greeks first settled here for about 200 years until an earthquake destroyed the city, then Romans came and made it a center for health and trade. There was a huge Roman amphitheatre there as well as natural hot springs we were able to bathe in (which was surprisingly pleasant even though it was hot out; no shower + an overnight bus = hot springs are awesome).

Roman Amphitheater. Drew quite the crowds back in the day.

The main draw to Pammukale though is to walk across this large area of limestone which is quite stark in comparison to the rest of the landscape and quite beautiful, though the barefoot walk is not like walking on shag carpet by any stretch of the imagination.

The barefoot journey in Pammakale.

This time our tour group was about 10 people, with a mix of Australians, Indonesians and a few others. We again had too much for lunch (on these tours most of the lunches were in large mess hall places with a generous buffet) and were again exhausted by the time our approximately 21 year old tour guide dropped us back at the hotel. Before another bus ride (this time an evening ride, not an overnighter) I was able to take a dip in the pool where we were storing our bags, which is always a pleasure. By the time we reached Kusadasi (a western Turkish city) that night, I was exhausted but looking forward to more sights the next day.

Stay tuned for a summary of a trip to the Virgin Mary's house and a Turkish Bath...

Trekking it down and exodus from Nepal

Sunday May 24 - Friday May 29

When you decide to go on a trek like this, the possibility of injury is in the back of your mind, but if you are relatively healthy (and in my case, careful though clumsy) it's not something that you give much heed to.

When our guide Wang Chhuk fell a few hours into our short trek on Day Eight, it was like time stood still for a second before everyone was running to him, turning him on his side, checking his heart rate, talking to him to get him to wake backup. Holding his head while wiping blood from his mouth, I calmly urged him to open his eyes.

You can expect a lot of things when trekking, but your guide collapsing, unconscious, is not one of them.

When Wang Chhuk fell we were about 30 minutes to an hour from the guesthouse for the night. He regained consciousness after a few minutes, and after a rest a few of the guys tried to assist him in trekking down, but he passed out again. Reshom (the other guide of the group we had joined with) ran ahead, Norbu (our porter) ran to see if the doctor was in the town we had just passed through, and British Ben ended up carrying Wang Chhuk down piggyback until we got to the guesthouse.

By the time we arrived, though very tired, he had come around and explained this had happened to him a few times before; he likely had trekked too fast and had been dehydrated. He assured us he was fine and did not need to continue out of the trek; we still had a full day's trek ahead of us at least to get back.

He went to sleep and the rest of us went to the natural hot springs--some of the most beautiful hot springs I have ever been to--and were able to unwind and think about what had happened. I was so thankful he was ok--that everyone was--and took in the beauty around me as the hot springs flanked a rushing river.

After trekking back from the hot springs we got a taste of the upcoming monsoon as it began to downpour seemingly out of nowhere.

Yes, we are trying to measure the rain with a can of Carlsberg.

As I drank my beer, I noticed Wang Chhuk and Reshom having beers in the guesthouse kitchen. I went back to join them and soon our entire group along with a few more people from Australia and one from the Netherlands joined in for many beers, popcorn, and the making of an impressive beer pyramid. We remained there the rest of the night, talking, laughing, eating, drinking and ignoring the fact that we clearly were not supposed to be crashing in the kitchen.

Our last day of the trek we split off from Ben, Rob and Reshom as they were doing one more day. I hiked in flip flops the last two days of the trek because of the huge blister on my toe.

Sorry if this is TMI.

Tired and ready to be done, we reached the trail head around 3p.m. and took the always exciting local bus back to Pokhara. We had one last dinner with Wang Chhuk as he was leaving the next day and we were staying one more day in Pokhara. We also got a message from Reshom that they had come back to Pokhara that night after all, so we met up for a few drinks.

The next day the guys braved the barber chair and got a shave and a massage while I, amused, looked on. We went sight-seeing that afternoon, which was a bit underwhelming in Pokhara as the Bat Cave is not what it is cracked up to be, but we did eavesdrop on a wedding.

The last night Ben, Rob, Bryan and I enjoyed some steaks and happened upon a bar with Party Buckets of Booze (seriously, that is what they were called on the menu). Needless to say, the bus back to Kathmandu came a bit too early for me the next day.

Back in Kathmandu I was pretty tired, but we did manage a day trip to Bhaktapur where we saw lots and lots and lots of temples.

Doing a slight paint job in Bhaktapur.

Taming the lion.

I wasn't sure if I was really ready to go back to India but before I knew it, my time in Nepal was up. It was so beautiful, I definitely will plan to go back for another trek again. Now though it was time for a few days in India before heading off to see Abdullah and Libby in Istanbul!

Trekking it up

Sunday, May 17 - Saturday May 23

Our trek began in the pouring rain, not exactly an ideal start but we weren't deterred. We were welcomed by so much greenery, several donkeys, and a lot of calm in the air—the beauty was striking. Our trekking group consisted of Jean and Weibie, a couple from Germany and Ben, a college student from New York state. The rest of our team was made up of guides Pema Sherpa and Wang Chhuk Sherpa, Bryan and my porter 16 year old Norbu Sherpa and for the first three days Lakpa Tamang and Phurba Sherpa rounded out the crew.

There are lots of options for companies and guides to go through to trek. My friend Phil from Denver had trekked with Pema last year, so we decided to go through his company, too.

It may be rainin', but we just don't care.

Some beauty early on.

The first day turned out to be surprisingly easier than we expected; little did we know it would be by far the easiest day of the entire trek. Our first stop was at a tea house called Indra Guesthouse in Tikhedhunga (all the teahouses along the Anapurna Sanctuary Trek are named, usually with names such as “Excellent View Guesthouse”. You can imagine that the view is, well, excellent). Because we did our trek at the end of the trekking season, we didn't encounter that many other trekkers and we were the only group at the guest house that night. Apparently the opposite is true in high season (October through December) when the guesthouses are packed with trekkers.

Bryan is seen here resting (that picture is not staged; we had just reached the guesthouse and had not had lunch yet).

I spent the rest of Day One finishing the first Twilight book and later playing some serious games of Uno with our small group and headed to sleep early; early to bed was to become standard protocol.

Our second day turned out to be picture perfect, and we were lucky to get our first breathtaking glimpse of the Anapurna South peak.

Much of it was uphill on the second day, but we were able to have a delicious lunch (also, normal protocol, the food was great throughout) of veg momo's. The day was put into perspective early for me as a few young girls were climbing the same steps we were, but to get to school. As we huffed and puffed, their little legs carried them up without much problem.

We reached Ghorepani, our stop for the night, later that afternoon very tired, but it was much cooler there as we had gained in altitude. As I had finished Twilight I paid a ridiculous amount for a new book—Shantaram—which at 900 + pages would be no small task to finish (or carry) and my efforts to bargain with the bookshop owner failed miserably. The rest of the afternoon lead to discussion with our guides around the fireplace about previous treks and life in Nepal and Kathmandu and of course, lots of tea.

Perhaps the best part of the trekking was the copious amounts of tea we were able to consume—my favorites being fresh mint with lemon tea and milk tea close seconds. The other best part was the number of times I was able to order chocolate pancakes. But; I digress.

The morning of Day Three we were hoping to catch an amazing sunrise and climb Poon Hill; but alas, despite waking up and getting ready, it wasn't a clear day, so we had to forgo that trip.

Our third day was our last full day with our original group, and it also came apparent that we would continue to see many of the same people along our trek as we went, which was oddly comforting to me.

Photo of our entire group from the first three days of the trek

The day was very misty and foggy for most of it, as evident in the photo below, and the last stretch was tough, but it was worth it as we had a beautiful view of the mountain range where we stayed for the night.

I couldn't quite get over how peaceful it was there, and how much I loved it. Also at this stop I met a woman from England who had recently retired and had also spent a substantial amount of time in India volunteering at a school the past few months.

The next morning I woke up before dawn and was able to get some pre-sunrise shots of the mountain range.

Day Four Bryan and I split off from the rest of the group and guided by Wang Chhuk and Norbu headed off to reach ABC (Anapurna Basecamp). We had near perfect weather again, but it was actually fairly hot, and a lot harder than our previous days (or possibly we were just getting tired...)

We met this trusty stead along the way.

I can't remember what they were drying in the sun, but this man was nice enough to allow me to take a photo of him and his work.

One of the many bridges we crossed.

This is where I got some major BA.

We finally reached Sinewa, our guesthouse for the night, and I couldn't wait as I was starting to have some pain with my big toes, but as I was taping them up, I didn't bother checking too closely. This guesthouse had a common room to eat and hang out, and we met up again with Australian Rob and British Ben who we had crossed paths with the day before and their guide Reshom, and also met fellow trekkers from Israel and France.

Below, a photo of Norbu introducing a small Nepali child to the joys of my iPod.

Day Five and Six brought us trekking with Ben, Rob, and Reshom, trekking in and out of rain showers, taking in many more waterfalls, crossing lots of bridges and some snow before we finally reached the ABC. It was very cold at ABC and a bit rainy, but that didn't stop me from joining in a spirited game of volleyball (who knew people in Nepal liked volleyball so much?) and that night, for a small fee, we were able to heat up the place with a fire under the table in the common room as about 12 trekkers from various parts of the world played cards.

Me and all my boys!

Day Seven was our longest day as we trekked higher early to try and get good snaps of the mountain range, but were met with a lot of cloud cover. Still, it was pretty fabulous to have mint tea at the base of the mountain early in the morning. We trekked all the way back to Sinewa, where we continued the infamous International Uno Tournament.

This Canadian got seriously screwed in UNO.

Beer for Breakfast and other misadventures

May 1st-May 8th, 2009--Mumbai and Aurangabad, Maharashtra, India

My second visitor in India arrived on May 1^st. Randy is a friend from Denver, married to my very good friend Annie, and they are foster parents to my blue Ford Focus while I am away. Seeing he had work in Malaysia, he decided to pop over to India for a week.

Randy's visit started with some drama even before I fetched him from the airport, as I took a Rik there, and despite the fact Sunitha told the driver in Hindi I wanted to go to the International airport, I was dropped at the Domestic terminal, and before I noticed, I had paid, and my driver was gone. I hailed another ride, and a few minutes into the ride, he said he wanted 500 rupees (for what should be a 30 or so rupee ride). So I get out, angrily, with my pack with me because I had not checked into the hotel yet. Soon another driver offered to take me to the International Airport for 300 rupees, than 200, than 100, until finally a young driver named Sanil agreed to take me there with the meter running, and laughing, practiced his English on me by saying “I am sexy, NO?!?!” and despite the fact I told him three times my name was Leah, he was sure my name was Priya, and that Sanil and Priya are a perfect Bollywood match, and he not-so-debonairly tried to get me to give him a kiss before I left the Rik. Unfortunately, he failed in his quest, but he did succeed in temporarily improving my mood from the sour state it was in 10 minutes prior and I gave him a low-five for his efforts.

I found Randy, and we made our way to Sea View Hotel on Juhu Beach, my home away from home, away from home when I have guests in Mumbai. We started out the next morning with beer for breakfast, which is never a bad choice, and made our way up north to the National Park in town, where we saw some lions and tigers on a short bus safari, but being that it was so hot, we soon headed back for pizza and beer, a bit of shopping, and then a short tour through the Hare Krishna temple. Randy had bought some Johnny Walker Red earlier, and the security person was concerned he was bringing in water. When Randy explained it was “whiskey, not water” suddenly it was OK and he could bring it in. That's my kind of temple.

The next day we did the slum tour of Dharvi like I did when Jessie came, and Randy enjoyed it quite a bit as he was familiar with some of the work that was being done there. To get out of the heat, we headed downtown to lunch at the famed Leopold's and hit up both the National Gallery of Art and the Jehinger Gallery which had a sculpture exhibit, featuring a herd of hippopotami! Obviously, I loved it.

That night we departed Mumbai and headed to a bus station to catch an overnight bus to the city of Aurangabad. The ride was one of the few times I have been cold in India as the AC was pumping, and I neglected to bring long sleeves. After about 8 hours, we arrived.

I had wanted to visit Aurangabad because of the famed Ellora and Ajanta caves, full of Hindu, Buddhist and Jain carvings and sculptures. We headed to the Ellora Caves (about30 kilometers from town) and also to Fort Daulatabad another young tourist named Lim from South Korea.

To the top of Fort Daulatabad turned out to be a good, short hike and though it was hot, it was not a bad precursor for trekking in Nepal I would be doing in a few weeks.

View from Fort Daulatabad

The Ellora caves were very impressive, and being that it was so hot, we saw most of the 34 caves, but skipped a few of the Buddhist caves at the end. The most striking part of the Ellora caves was the Kailasa Temple, which is dedicated to the Lord Shiva and carved from the rock over 150 years by over 7,000 workers—an interesting fact from Lonely Planet is that the Kailasa covers twice the are of the Parthenon in Athens and is 1 ½ times as high.

Lim Stretches as I unknowingly to him take a snap

Kaisala Temple Views

Following the caves we headed back to the hotel for some much needed rest, and that night ran into Lim again and headed off to have thali (link here) at a veg restaurant and some drinks, which later lead to consumption of most of the Johnny Walker Red. Being that it was so hot, we decided to skip traveling to the Ajanta Caves the next day, and instead sorted out our train tickets for the night and visited a weaving center in Aurangabad known for its detailed workmanship; a saree can take a year to make, many other items weeks and months.

Our trip back to Mumbai dropped us off downtown in the Colaba area the next day, and we soldiered on through the heat, checking into our hotel and then making our way over to the Thieves Bazaar (known for antiques) but also into a huge bazaar with lots of food and a butcher area—warning for those who may have weak stomachs—but we not only saw an alley full of garlic (one of my favorite spots ever, as many know, you can never have enough garlic) we also came across some severed goat's heads (aka mutton).

Gross, I know

We next made it over to the Haji Ali Mosque, which at high tide is inaccessible, whether you are coming or going. A small mosque, with many less fortunate lined along its path with various physical deformities, it is a powerful place regardless of your impression. Also, there are vendors selling ice cream bars for 5 rupees (roughly 10 cents U.S.). We were tempted to buy the entire box.

View at Haji Ali (note Randy wiping the sweat off his brow in the bottom left corner)

After a bit more shopping and bargaining and one last beer, we navigated from downtown up north to get Randy to the airport. Like so many times in Mumbai, it was an eventful excursion as our cabbie had said he knew how to get to Juhu but we got annoyingly lost for quite some time. As I was tired and hot, I was rather unhappy (to put it mildly) with our driver and it was as we finally got a Rik on the last stretch before reaching the airport that Randy said to me that I would know when I got back from Nepal if I would return to India past July. As much as I love being here most of the time, I had to admit that the trials and tribulations of just getting around—not to mention the heat, humidity, traffic and pollution—were wearing on my nerves, and I was not feeling like myself. It was time to get out of Dodge. Luckily, I would have that opportunity in less than a week.

Hindi Theatre and I’m a Hasher thru and thru

I realized I neglected to post about a few fun adventures from last weekend. Saturday included my first visit to an Indian spa, which is ridiculously cheap compared to back home. I also had my first pedicure of my life, with hot pink toenails to show for it.

The same evening, I went with Sunitha’s father-in-law and brother-in-law to an area in New Mumbai to see a play written by her sister-in-law andt directed by her mother-in-law (and starring both of them). It was in an outdoor amphitheatre, and though it was in Hindi, I was able to deduce a lot of what was going on because Bonnie, Sunitha’s sister-in-law, sent me a synopsis in English prior to the show. It was a comedy, as you can tell from this character below (who is a mime in his day job! I never thought there would be mimes in India, though that is, I suppose, a random thought to have).



At around 10:45 p.m., following set tear down, we went to a restaurant (across the street from a three-story KFC) called Global Fusion, where, for a set price, you can basically eat WHATEVER YOU WANT (this takes me back to running with my friends Liz Henry and Kate Kopischke in Denver, who after a long run always told me that I could now go to the grocery and buy WHATEVER I WANTED because we had, like, totally ran 15 miles).

Back to Global Fusion. The protocol is that your table has a number, and then has small clips with the number on it. You approach long counters of food, with chefs behind them, where you drop your clips into bowls indicating which dish you want. This included lots of starters (appetizers) as well as sushi, sashimi, more sushi, and basically All Things Tasty and Delicious. In the next room were the main courses with lots of ethnic specialties as well.

It was midnight by the time we ate, and totally worth every bite. Not to mention, we got to sit over a pond of live fish, so it was like we were floating! For dessert, Sunitha’s father-in-law and I ventured over to the Dessert Station where I suggested we get two of everything. The waiter looked at me skeptically, then cautiously handed me one plate, to which Suntiha’s dad-in-law responded “NO! We want TWO OF EVERYTHING!”

Needless to say, we got two of everything. TONS of chocolate surprises!

Even though I retired for the evening at 2:15 a.m., I roused myself by 6:15 because Sunday was the day I was to become a Bombay Hash House Harrier. What, might you ask, is such a thing?

Some back story:

The first two weeks I was in Bombay I read 2.5 books on India. One of the books referenced a running club where you drink beer after you run. As many of you know, this encompasses two of my hobbies into one neat package. So, in January, I Googled the group, and sent a message to the email address I found on what appeared to me an abandoned website.

Fast forward one month later, and I receive an email and then a call about the group, who is having their scheduled monthly run that Sunday in Lonavla, a town north of Mumbai famous for its peanut brittle (Chikki) which I can attest, as can Maria, is divine. I arrange for a carpool and that morning, end up waiting an hour before the carpool finds me (mind you I am sitting at a bus stop along a busy road wearing bright orange running pants). Apparently, I was at the end of an incorrect flyover. But all was well once I asked a man to speak to my carpool driver, and we reached Lonavla and began the run at about 10:30 a.m.

The running group is made up of a bunch of delightful characters. I was among the youngest, and also, I believe, the only Westerner. Many in the group were over 40 (and 50 and 60) years old, so I quickly found out that a lot of Hashers, as they are called, walk the run. This was fine by me, but it was already hot and I knew I needed to get moving.

Turns out the “run” was also part hike--we made our way past women gathering cow dung for fires and men gathering sticks, up and down hills and trails, across a damn, and finally down a waterfall (well, what would have been a waterfall during monsoon season). To follow the route you look for chalk markings the Hashers who designed the route had left; if you get too far ahead (as me and another runner did who was also embarking on her maiden Hash voyage) you wait for someone with more knowledge to catch up and guess where the next chalk marking lies. After a few bouts of confusion, and an hour and a half later, we reached our starting point.

The fun then continued as I was one of the first to finish (now some of you have an of the pace we are talking) and the Kingfisher Blue tallboys and salty snacks were passed around. I met so many delightful people--Boris, Shahruk, Ameeta, Deeptika, Harsh, Kekti, Chirag and the list goes on. Also, there was a program part of the afternoon, where certain people had to “Sit on the Ice”. This literally meant sitting on huge blocks of ice while being hazed by your fellow Hashers. Basically they sing a song about hashing, then you have to chug some beer. It was highly inappropriate and exponentially fun, and by the time I left at 3:30 or 4:00 p.m. to head back to the city, I had several new friends’ phone numbers and a bit of a buzz.

You can see me on the left looking very tall and white in the orange pants

The day did not end here, though. I got a ride back to town with some new friends and was able to see their home as well as the recording studio they operate and watch the sunset over the sea. I quickly briefed Sunitha on my day over dinner, and then met up with two new Hashers at a bar in Bandra, which is known as the hip, more Westernized neighborhood in Bombay. On a terrace my new friends and I tipped back whiskeys and beers (and ate more starters) while I watched, with some surprise, a group of 8 or so Indian men busting out Bollywood moves on the dance floor below; it was not advised by my friends that I join. It was my first experience out in the “bar scene” so to speak here and ended up being great fun.

Needless to say, the following day was the latest I have slept in since my Indian adventures began.