I'll Never Work Again

During an interesting cultural expl-onversation (exploratory conversation. Look it up. But don't really) between my father and Abu, our fearless mustache (read: guide) - Abu let loose a fascinating piece of information. According to him, in Indian culture, it is expected that, if the son of the family never wants to work, the father will take care of the son for life. Please let it be noted that this will forever be included on every birthday card for the rest of my father's life.

I am writing from the city of Jaipur, a frantic, beautiful city of a couple million people all trying to sell me shoes and jewelry. This morning we explored the Amber Fort, an incredible thousand year old structure. What I find interesting about visiting these forts as a whole is the truly intricate architecture, that included ventillation, the best means of air conditioning no electricity can afford, and in the case of this Amber colored fort, secret passageways for the concubines to reach their intended destination.

For those that have never had the pleasure to witness, or been on the listening end of a conversation about Indian traffic, allow me to enlighten you. Here in Rajasthan, this northern Indian state, the traffic is all-inclusive. During bumper to bumper traffic, it is broken up only be cows meandering casually across the street (a holy animal to the Hindu, much unlike the street dogs, for them they make an effort to slow down). When you look left, there is often an elephant. Look right, bicycles and motorbikes are swerving around camels, dogs, chickens, rickshaws, and tuk tuks. Its not unusual to see entire 6 person families cruising on one motorbike.

Whats more is their style of driving. Like much of India, it is a form of organized chaos. G0d forbid you leave more than 6 inches in between you and the person in front of you - whether its a bus or a pedestrian crossing the street - and you will lose your standing in traffic. You fight your way in, you swerve, you never commit to a lane, you cut people off and you pull a u-turn in seemingly unbreakable traffic hoping and praying they part for you. And usually, they do. I swear navigating these streets are like playing a dusty videogame.

A piece of information I've taken to heart on this trip, particularly while traveling with a variant group of westerners (see "train crashing into helicopotor") seeing the country for the first time is this: It's important to write things down the first time you see them. For example - today I woke to a rooster's crow, and then showered to the sounds of a pig being chased through the street and slaughtered. If not, you will see these things 5, 10, 20 more times, and they will become a part of your life while here. You seem to forget that those 4 foot porceline walls in the street are for men to pee on, or that at the most famous movie theatre in India, popcorn costs 50 cents. And these details are what make the experience so fascinating, so thrilling, so Indian.

And for the record, seeing a 3 hour Bollywood film - all in Hindi - with an intermission - was not only better than it sounded - I loved it and will indefinitely do it again.