Where to start ... ?

Sooo.... Ok. Where to start... Firstly, by the time i finish this email today I hope to have provided a detailed account of whats going on, mostly for my own self, not gonna lie. This said, its not as much for your entertainment and so might get rather boring pretty fast. So don't feel obligated to read this... unless you're a few people (you know who you are and I"ll be checking.) So... where to start. Should I start with today, right now? typing on a difficult keyboard in a Internet shack really, not what I'd call a cafe. The rain pouring down outside, I've come in for a brief reprieve, though I am wearing my new traditional Indian shirt and scarf, even wearing it over my head to protect from the rain, which changed my many onlookers comments from "hello long one" to "namaste, I like your dress" though its not a dress. Long one, I have discovered, is India's answer to the street callings of nyc's "hey you're tall." I have just asked where the toilet is, (asked it to the veritable CHILD that's EMPLOYED here) and was directed to a sort of johnny on the spot... hole on the spot with no light and my fear of rats/cockroaches threatening to send my head into another tailspin. I spent 15 minutes yesterday whimpering like an infant while debating how to trap/kill the biggest roach with the biggest antennae Ive ever seen, i finally wussed out and put the shower bucket over it and left it there, to roam aimlessly in a dark circle until it probably starves itself to death. sorry, is there a sort of dark tone to this email? probably. That may be because, well, I'm having just the smallest bit of trouble adjusting to this. I know what you are all thinking or saying, this is what she wanted, didn't she think she'd be shocked? nothing prepares you for India... blah blah blah. i know. i guess it doesn't. or maybe its harder because I'm ALONE. which i also knew. perhaps carried away by my own romanticism and special knack for a usual rose colored glasses Pollyanna perspective (thank you mom :) ) i chose to remember mostly the good things about my solo travels last time, maybe downplaying the fact that i wasn't really happy there either until i was on an organized bus tour and having the easiest/most fun social experience ever. that, my friends, is not this trip. Now, I'm not saying I have been purely and totally alone this whole trip. No. As a matter of fact, a large chunk of my time I have been in a small but functional car careening down a 2 lane road (passing trucks on the right while one barrels towards us, narrowly avoiding head on collisions at an hourly rate... don't read that one, worriers) with no other but my Indian DRIVER, Lucky. Driver. yes. named Lucky. yes. Did I intend on a driver? no. but one day in a seedy hostel, an attempted walk to the info center only to discover at the train station that it had been moved because of the recent BOMBINGS (or at least that's what one guy told me, probably to get me into his friend's auto rickshaw.... lying is second nature here if it gives them money, sad but true) so off i went on the rickshaw, to the supposed government info center.  maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. id been warned about fake gov tour industries, fake id's and all that they wear... so how are you really supposed to know? and after being handed and hot chai and sat down, was promptly sold a driver for 13 days through the regal province of Rajistan. No sooner had I handed over the plastic (a pretty penny if you wanna know... 45 usd a day. yeah well.) there he appeared, my Indian savior, to whisk me back to the hostel to pack up quickly and high tail it out of Delhi... oh did i mention that morning some of the terrorists had been shot and killed by the police only a few blocks away... anyway he and his bosses got me hooked up with a cell phone, though I'm always roaming since i bought it in Delhi, probably got taken with that too, and off we went to Agra, home of the incomparable Taj Mahal. we drove 4 hours in the evening, rolling in at around midnight, and ended up at a less than steller hostel, 2nd night in a row. no sheets, (and hairs on the bed) no towels, no toilet paper, no hot water. bars on the windows (thank god) a flimsy lock, and no other foreigners but me. and my cell was out of range. NICE.  At times like this you wonder.... WHY am i here. WHY was this so important to me. And I threw my dirty hair in the bucket of ice water and cried... only to remember my mouth can't touch that water and started spitting it out... a la Charlotte in the satc movie, for those who know what i mean. After an odd night's sleep (there are all sorts of different sounds... monkeys (who sound like dying cats) Indian pop music, men shouting, to name a few, oh and my malaria pills which are supposed to not cause bad dreams are, in fact, whacking me out a little bit, sure doesn't help the anxiety, and the few travelers I've talked to so far have all said just not to take them. but i haven't done that. Next morning, bright and early, taj majal at dawn. spectacular, of course. even when it was overcast. so no sun, but still stellar. saw an unsuspecting guy about my age looking at his lonely planet on a bench, sat down and started talking to him. i was already desperate for a conversation with someone who didn't want to sell me something, or take my money, or beg. his name was, of course, Chris.... like everyone else i meet... the world reinforcing the daily agony of knowing how much easier it would be with him here... since i pay every night for a double room and have space in the car i pay for... and that EVERYONE i see is part of a couple. apparently this is THE place for couple bonding. good for them. instead, I'll "discover myself!" apparently this country will "change me"... and if i didn't want or feel i needed to be changed? if i already like myself? what will it do. time will tell. Chris came with me to the Agra fort, surprising Lucky the driver that I'd "picked up a guy" already. (don't worry Chris.) and we met another guy Andres, a Colombian who lives nowhere else but williamsburg Brooklyn! my future neighbor. would have loved for him to come with me but he was off to mumbai for work. so we all had a nice lunch and then parted ways, only to start an argument with lucky about bringing other people n the car. case in point, they promised at the office it would be no problem, then he says "you can't do that." after threatening to talk to the manager myself he "cleared it" and said, "ok, ok its fine, just no Indians." interesting. they don't' truest each other either. figures. that day we drove to Jaipur, the capital of Rajistan, in its pale pink glory. A site of palaces and forts, and getting into another low end hostel i booked, i saw some beautiful rooms on the other side and upgraded, involving checking out and in again in a different office, some boy carting my stuff up and downstairs and then standing awkwardly in my room while i fished around for some rupees to give him. tipping constantly, when you don't want the service to begin with. But my upgrade was worth it, and a need for sanity gave me a/c, a TV that played Seinfeld, friends, and Grey's anatomy... not even dubbed over in Hindi! and a real shower, and a real blanket and towel. you wouldn't believe the difference a coat of paint can make, either. The only downside of that place was the manager who'd been nice at the start but then called me a few times to ask me to dinner, and then showed up at my door! a bit freaky, but i told him i wasn't interested and he left me alone. Christ. Walking in the dusty streets on my own is a real challenge. Almost everyone says something to me. Whether it is a nice, simple "namaste, or hello", or more usually a proposition for me to buy something... here in Pushkar its "Internet? camel safari?" or the repeated "hello, long one. you from Germany?" or the children, banging up against the glass of the car, knocking, selling jewelry, or just begging. Today it was "please, money is of no use to me. i just want some chapati (bread). please, it is nothing for you. it is everything for me. please, please,.... as i think frantically what to do. ignore? can i? or give him something, and have a swarm of children. i bought him some chips, he smiled and ran away, then of course there was another and another, and nobody to talk to to try to distract me, or to show them I'm busy. I'm a prime target for all of it. Sometimes its nice to have Lucky, and the car, sometimes it feels like prison. Or when i can't get out of being taken to these "factories" just so he can get a stamp that says that Ive been there, so he gets a commission. of course they don't tell me these things when i buy the trip. i confronted lucky about it and simply told him to tell me when the stamping places would happen. i don't want to get him in trouble, but i also want to know what I'm in for. seems to work a bit better between us now.  We went all around Jaipur that day, seeing all the forts you could imagine. But they are spectacular. Mirror work, like tile mosaics, all around. beautiful views of the pink rooftops. A sunset point over the whole city where you could hear the evening Hindi and Muslim prayers out of the many temples and mosques. At one fort, I saw only Indians. And the most spectacular views you could imagine. Trying to ignore the constant staring at me, I made my way though these little tunnel hallways, only to be grabbed by the arm by a woman in a red sari who had my ex boyfriend Vinda's mother's beautiful smile (Gurdive, it made me feel better right away) and she led me through the hall to a puppet show! Of course, the moment I walked in no one but me was looking at the puppets. Awkward. She and her children led me to the top of a summit point at the fort, insisted on it, and giggled insessantly. They spoke no English, and we took some pictures together with my camera. I felt a sense of confusion and I felt overwhelmed, but I was touched. They were so nice, and no language in common. I"ve had my picture taken with everyone and their brother (quite literally, btw.) Anyway, After our day in Jaipur, we decided to go to a restaurant Lucky knows, when he told me that he was really "dreading these next 13 days when we started, i thought, this is going to be a really long trip with her." i about cried. my only pseudo-companion, and he didn't even like me. what about me made him dislike me? "i did not dislike you! he exclaimed angrily. but you change your mind! i can never understand you. i am shocked you upgraded your hotel. you said you care about price! hah." so there he was on a little tirade and i still don't really know why, nor should i care. so i like him, but there is this oddness to it all. he is my paid companion. he is not with me for the fun of it. nor vice versa. and its not like driver, customer either. because there is just one of me, and of course we are going to talk. we just stopped talking about the argument and went to dinner. but not before splitting a bottle of Kingfisher beer in the car, the stray dogs smelling the sticks of ground mutton that we were eating as an appetizer and surrounding the car. glad i got my rabies shots. oh and did i talk about the monkeys yet? everywhere! and the cows in the street, the pigs bathing by the side of the road, the green and yellow beautiful parakeets, the camels! The brightly colored saris everywhere and the matching colorful curry powder for sale. These are the every day sights. The dinner with lucky was delicious, and knock on wood i still haven't been sick. good, cuz i think it would about send me home at this point! I met some great Israeli guys and an amazing Argentinean older woman later that night in my hostel garden restaurant... they are all jewelry makers, stone people. Even an American guy been here for 7 years married and Indian woman, etc. they were so chill about India. so many hippy-types here its crazy. different sorts. they convinced me to stay in Jaipur one more night so i could go to this traditional Indian live music meets Israeli guitar player concert in a palace, and really, how could i refuse. and it was so worth it. one moment you are on a dusty street, inhaling pollution and hearing horns blasting in your ears, narrowly escaping oncoming cars an mopeds, and then, you are in a palace. with men clad in traditional white Indian linen pants and shirts, and multicolored turbans. the whole thing was a classy throwback to British domination, and i can't say i minded. it was the India of "a little princess" (a book we all read, a movie we all watched, right?) The music was amazing and chill, the man who sang, chanted sort of, the sitar, it was outstanding. and we lay there on these little beanbag things, i could look up at the palace ceiling. it was incredible. so glad i stayed.  That day (yesterday) afternoon i went to the cinema! what an experience. upgraded to the diamond class, and sat up n the balcony (its a real theater) next to an Indian couple, the boyfriend bought his girlfriend, and myself! some popcorn, cakes, and coke i couldn't drink cuz it was fountain coke (made with the dreaded tap water), he even tried to hand feed me the popcorn, which was.... awkward. the movie was so over the top, and totally in Hindi but it didn't matter because the plot was less than subtle. the whole thing was such ridiculous physical comedy, and the audience was roaring with laughter, or whistling at the pretty female stars in very skimpy clothes (funny that's what s in the movies yet not on the street, and so many white people as extras in the movie! maybe ill get involved, maybe not). anyway, the whole thing was very entertaining but i couldn't shake a slight fear about bombings that have been outside cinemas in the past year here. this is a shaky time to be here, in a way. and yet, you get used to it. everyone around you is just not phased by it. it is life, they think. lucky thinks you have no control, god comes down and ends your life. if i believed that, if i believed it was all preplanned, id be a much less anxious person. but i have my troubles with that. in any case what can you do, there are a billion people here. living their daily lives. As i write this i look down at my henna-tattooed hands, bangles, and full Indian clothing. didn't' take long. i love the fabrics, the styles, and also i no it is a sign of me trying to be polite and people like that i think. maybe they'll hassle me less. i can dream. Which brings me to now, in Pushkar, a small, and (relatively speaking) peaceful town. i even signed up for a private classical indian singing lesson at a music shop tomorrow. im staying at an idyllic hostel, its really more like a hotel, with plants, porch swngs, and a courtyard all in the center of it, like a little fortress. and a rooftop restaurant that makes their food with mineral water. i have a huge room with a king size bed, a real bedcover, and some pretty lanterns. i moved right in today, listening to Mika on my iphone, dancing around. brief moment of total happiness. then fought the depression and anxiety and insecurity of walking down the street, and now, here. i prepare to leave here to try to find my hotel, and i think ill stay in there for the rest of the night. need lots of books. and ill try to tlak to some people. my friend chavala is seriously trying to get out here for a visit, i hope she can make it. i have 3 more months here, and i can honestly say i have NO idea if i will stay the whole time or not. I will stay long enough to ensure that im not leaving just out of fear, but that ive exhausted myself as well, that ive seen it, as much as i can for now. and im not leaving till i go to the beaches of goa, and the backwaters of kerala. or veranasi, which is suppoed to be the music capital. i will do this before i leave. and if i come home early, i will have to fight the feeling of failure... all my talking about being here, wanting to come here. and i still want to be here. but it drains you when you are alone, in an unimaginable way. this would be the very best and most amazing place ive ever been if i was not alone. and i intend to return some day, not alone. i think India has to be done more than once, in spurts, to get used to it, more and more every time. magical, bewitching, extroardinarily beautiful, a land of extremes. all true. Its more of a pilgramage than a "holiday". i don't feel like im unemployed, i feel like I'm a professional reporter, or backpacker, or something. Its not a vacation. but then again, it wasn't supposed to be. Reporting to you all from Pushkar, Rajistan, this is Arjana Vizulis, wishing you all a good night.