Are We Having Fun Yet?

Some friends have asked if we're having fun... they've mentioned that we sound weary...

The answer is, yes we're having fun... but I've realized there are two kinds of fun: fun that you know you are having when it's happening, and fun that you don't realize you had until time has passed.

I believe having fun in India falls into the second camp. It's just that all the terrible, bad, frustrating things so powerfully overwhelm the good... it will just take some time to sift the good memories from the bad, so we can remember India with a smile.

Traveling in India is Tough -- yes, Tough with a capital 'T'. Sometimes I feel like I'm wearing a t-shirt with the words 'Screw Me Over' printed on it. Benjamin's t-shirt says 'Please suck the living spirit out of me and then spit it out onto my shoe - or the gutter - whichever you prefer'.

India is a test. It's an 'Eco Challenge' for the soul. India requires patience. From bureaucracy so thick nothing gets done with any efficiency... to the touts and rickshaw drivers who only want to make a commision off of you... to the people who stare and gawk when they're curious, but ignore you when you need assistance... to the local friends you make, who tell you how poor they are (reminding you how rich you are)... to the mumbling beggar with one hand out and the other tugging on your sleeve, limp infants held by street urchins who are asking for baksheesh, the smell of feces and urine, garbage littered everywhere, dead puppies on the beach, rat turds on your bed, a single black hair in every meal, constant beeping horns, cow paddies in the street, the never ending requests to 'buy something from me', coffee cups with handles too small to hold, disgusting bathrooms, lewd hand gestures and remarks from men, machismo, mediocre 'Western food', made-for-tourists local food, the rail system, drinking everything through a straw, plastic water bottles, the sound of loogies, hard beds, harder pillows.

The rickshaw drivers are the worst. Countless times, they have doubled the fare we negotiated upon arrival at our destination or made numerous, unsolicited stops along the way from point A to B, trying to get us to buy things from their friends' shops at inflated prices, or have dropped us off somewhere other than where we wanted. It's all a scam, a sham, a way to make a buck of the rich tourists with white skin. Benjamin calls them sharks. We encountered one the other night, up close and personal.

We took a local friend out for a drink and this other guy, Renu (part time rikshaw driver/part time software engineer) moved in. It was some big dog, little dog game -- the impoverished screwing over the impoverished. We're not sure what the racket is, but our friend got quiet, the price of the drinks went up, and things went south.

Renu, in my mind, is representative of all the con-men out there. His world view is based on how much he can pocket from travelers he encounters. Renu told us how the Dutch don't spend money, but the English, French, and Spanish do (he likes them) -- Americans are not friendly -- Germans are weird. He told us how the rikshaw drivers target the elderly, or anyone traveling in group tours, as they are most likely to spend money at shops where the driver gets a commission. He, and the others, see people with white skin as dollar signs.

"You are rich," I heard more than once that night.

"It's all relative," I replied each time, to deaf ears I'm sure.

So, here we are... a little more cynical, a little less trusting, a little more brusque, a little less friendly...

But, I *think* we are having fun, and I promise to write about the good stuff, it's just a matter of time.