And as usual, I’m late and the bus to Pushkar leaves in ten minutes and I’m still changing money, trying to find a liquor store to buy a bottle of whiskey as a present to the guys that will pick me up at the bus station. Stressed as hell, sweat stains under my arms, and a dry mouth that’s crying out for liquid relief, this Indian guy helps me to buy the ticket, takes my heavy backpack and manages to get my stupid ass on the bus just as it pulls out! Jitu is his name, and the guy picks me up with a garland and a placard with my name spelled so atrociously you can’t believe it, but I care as much as the enormous cow that is shitting just outside the local hairdresser.
Jitu, my new private guide and driver takes me as well to this nice hotel run by a family, where a night in a middle class room only cost 30 Swedish crowns. On his NEW motorbike (of which I am repeatedly reminded at least ten times a day) he shows me the sights around town. I have to say that he is a really nice guy, didn’t ask me for any kind of money regarding the sightseeing that we were doing; the only thing I had to pay for was the petrol. But of course I tip him in between (like buying him a banana cake!)
Having seen the most incredible sunset up at a temple in the mountains, fed even more monkeys, driven around in the desert and out in the villages, and seen the abjectly poor people and what’s comes with it, shitty, dirty, poverty, it is so unfamiliar to me, compared to what I have back home. Another Rajastani Festival (just like The “Pee And Poo Festival” in Gothenburg, but without langos and teenage drunkenness!), bumped right into a big fat cow in the middle of the night (first of all it was dark, and second, yes, I’d had a couple of beers). No more explanations, thank you very much! Heard Bah Bah Black Sheep played by two kids out in the desert with something that looked like a fiddle. I thought of how Jitu could overcome his fear of water in a very simple way: forcing him on a boat trip, and believe it or not, taught myself to eat breakfast at the same time!
Pushkar, a small town with a holy lake (in which all Indians happily bathe) is just so much easier to handle compared to the big cities. The people are just so friendly and kind, and you can, believe it or not, go into to a store without being harassed and get yourself out of there with your brain intact and without losing your patience, just because you don’t want to buy a fucking stone for Rs 5000, or a T-shirt of “good quality” that as soon as you put it in the plastic bag, it mutates into a dishrag.
But of course there are some assholes here as well, which I had the opportunity to meet. A so-called “priest” all of a sudden came up to me, managed to con me, dragged me down to the holy lake to do a “puja” (which is a sort of Hindu prayer for your family, basically meaning that the bigger your family, the emptier your wallet!) This hash smoking “priest” just forced med down to the lake, starting the “ritual” by putting a bunch of flowers in my hand; I tried to get myself out of the situation by telling him that I’m still suffering from Mr. Food Poisoning, and that I had to get back to the room before there a “tacky accident” occurred, but this guy did not buy it at all, grabbed my arm and took me to the holy lake to perform his ritual. Well fortunately, one of Jitu’s friends sees what’s going on, runs down and saves me. The thing is that we talked earlier about doing this “puja” at some point that evening. I then had the privilege to meet Viru, (whom after that became my own private guru) so I recognized him. There are just so many tourists that have been ripped off badly by these so-called priests, so I guess that I was just lucky.
The next morning I bumped into the fucking stupid holy priest, and he was so angry, and told me that I owed him money just because he didn’t have the chance to complete his “holy ritual”. My ritual with this asshole would simply be, as the anesthetizing nurse I am, to sedate him with cow shit, and then invite family and friends for a big fucking barbeque party!)
The benefit of hanging out with the local guys like Jitu is that you don’t have to overpay or get ripped off in every store you enter (basically, I point out what I want, Jitu buys it for me, with my money). A fat crummy tourist (being so fat, it isn’t necessary to ask where he was from) got “sort of” angry when we both bought almost the same silver ring (his size was just a wee bit bigger than mine, and I swear that I could have used it as a cock-ring!!) When it became clear to him that he paid so much more than I did, I saw that being twice as big can cost twice as much.
One day I thought I deserved some “pampering”, like getting my head shaved, maybe getting a manicure as well as pedicure, so what I do is try to find an Indian “salon”, which I finally succeeded in doing. There, this polite man in the reception shows me to the chair. A young guy, lying in one of the chairs is ogling me as I sit down, and it turns out that HE is the one that is going to shave my head (a fucking 12 year old practitioner with his parents studying their son’s training progress) I got my head cut to ribbons, and it took that little bastard an hour and a half just to shave my head!! I swear to God, if this little kid had done the rest of my “pampering” I would have ended up without fingers and toes! So he just did the head (God Bless Gilette’s MACH-3).
Pushkar is definitely the best place so far, compared to the big cities: quiet, peaceful, awesome rooftop restaurants with good food where you drink your beer well hidden in a big mug, just because it’s not legal to drink alcohol in Pushkar. The beers are served in coffee mugs and the bottle is hidden in your bag. Amazing to drink beer at a restaurant as a 30 years old man, in a way that makes you feel like you’re 15 again. You don’t get younger than you are, no matter how old you grow. Since Mr. Food Poisoning’s happy days, there has not been much drinking, but Jitu managed to get me a bottle of gin, so, here I am, back on stage!
Don’t know where I’m headed next, stuck here in some ways but so far, I’m having the time of my life, enjoying every minute of this trip and all the experiences that I am having. The only thing I know is that I’m going to have beer under the table at my hotel and maybe kill at least 300 mosquitoes that want to eat me!
Keep writing to me! You’re all in my heart. And don’t do anything that I wouldn’t do, OK!
(Intro: The Knife: Marble House”)
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