the game of catching up...

The past two weeks have been a true adventure. Totally dangerous and wild. The week before I left Noida in Delhi, the students had their graduation ceremony. This was really special, as Wednesday was the last day for me to teach classes. Thursday the students had a large exam required to get a job in Korea, afterwards we had a huge lunch together with delicious dal mackinee, non, panner marsala, and chai tea. After lunch we all watched a movie together and relaxed. I packed my bag for my upcoming vacation, and went to bed. Friday we all went out to GIP – a really big mall with a disco dance floor, movie theater, and filled with Indian sweets to make an old man high. It stands for Great Indian Place. Ajay, me, Rebecca, Adaline, and all the students walked together, and tried some new Indian food. Afterwards, we went out for iced coffees, and said goodbye to Ajay who had to return home. Saturday was music practice and Sunday I got to sing in the worship service. The students left to go on their traveling holiday after church and I parted with them waving as they all piled into an auto with their backpacks, sun lotion, bug spray, and big smiles.
I walked to the flat, had lunch then went out for some sun, and ended up talking to the most incredible highschool sports coach for 3 hours in the park. It was getting dark, and I headed back to the flat for sleep.
The next morning I grabbed my bag, and walked outside of Silver city, waving down an auto who took me to the bus station. I then got on the bus to the metro, and ended up sitting next to my friends sister, associated with YWAM. This lady was really nice, and it was refreshing talking to her and hearing her testimony. I took the metro to Delhi, meeting a gray bearded mountaineer from Louisiana on the way living in Himachal Pradesh. I jumped out of the metro, and ran up the stairs to ISBT, catching a bus to Rishikesh. It was dark when I arrived, and I quickly found a room, and headed out to the market for dinner. I didn’t find the place I was looking for, but an old man was cooking yellow dal, and rice on the side of the street for 25cents, so I pulled up a chair and ate thankfully. I then walked through the market trying new fruits, and sweets. I met 2 nice young students from Delhi, who after conversing for half an hour, just wanted to know if I was married or not. I told them I was gay, and they stopped bothering me. J I went back to my room, for a couple hours of sleep and woke up at 4am to catch a bus ride to Joshimath. 

Finally I was starting my great adventure to the Valley of Flowers. I stepped out of the guesthouse, chilled by the mountain air. It was just getting light outside, and only men were on the street. I walked up the road on my way to the bus stand, and passed this genie purple turban man, tall with a buffalo bill stash and a 3 feet silver weapon that screamed- “watch out.” His dark eyes pierced through the night as I walked past with my squeamish orange backpack melting down my chilled spine, and shoes squeaking, seeming to say, “please don’t decapitate me, please don’t decapitate me.” I held my breath and slid past silently, until an auto came up behind me honking, breaking the silence, and I jumped in, to go to the bus stand. After the auto driver forgot about me and my destination, and anointed me with the task of finding a new auto, I finally ended up walking to the stand only 2k away.
I got to the bus stand which was huge. Filled with buses, cows, naked people taking a shower using the water pump, and wow- so many people! Who wakes up at freaking 4 am in the morning to come hang out at the bus stand. I asked many people about the bus to Joshimath, but no one seemed to know the answer. They only pointed to another bus, and gave the motion of “good luck, yes here is the bus, no, I have no idea, I can’t help you foreigner,” cumulated in the Indian bobble head.  

I saw two foreigners who where sitting on a concrete slab looking dazed and oblivious to the world around them. I asked them were they were going, and they mumbled Joshimath. “Well, have you already asked these buses where they are going,” I said a little impatient, knowing there was only 1 bus a day to Joshimath. They mumbled off something else, about needing a ticket in advance (which is not how India works) J obviously they had just arrived last week.

I went around to several buses, and ended up exhausting myself and sitting on a concrete slab covered in flies, watching the a naked man and woman hippie get dressed in their cloths of white fabric. After half an hour thinking I missed the bus, I saw a bus that just pulled up and made my way over to the driver. There weren’t any seats left, and I asked if I could ride on the top. He said yes, and motioned me to get on the top of the bus. (which is quite safe, usually used as a luggage rack, but if you hold on tight and push your foot under the metal bars, you should be fine) After waiting up there for another half hour for the bus to start, the driver came back, and had changed his mind. He motioned me to come down, and said there is room in the bus- didn’t mention I would be crammed between 10 Indian men on a little blue cushion behind the driver for 10 hours of a single lane gravel mountain road… haha.

We started the journey, amazingly I was so tired I quickly went to sleep for half an hour, and woke up realizing the single road was shared with many pilgrims dressed in white and orange, hiking up hill and down hill towards the bus. These people I think have a special vibe about them. Naturally hippies, wearing and owning the only clothes on their back, and sometimes a turban or piece of cloth tied in their dreads. I opened my eyes, and saw a whole group of about 10 to 12 men dressed in white cotas, led by a man suffering from shortman’s syndrome, walking very proudly, staff outstretched in hand, and completely bear butt naked. There were several other nude progressions following this one- needless to say, a man’s front side is no longer a mystery to me anymore- I have never seen so many penis’. I closed my eyes, cheeks flushed, and mind wondering…why? Who are these fearless people? The ride to Joshimath was unforgettable. We climbed higher and higher in the mountains, always keeping in sight a valley with a roaring white water river rushing, and removing any obstacles in it’s way. Totally not kayaking material- that is, except for the few of us who crave a good adventure.