EARTHQUAKE BUS!! (and others)

I arrived in McLeod Ganj (AKA Upper Dharamsala) and I'm gonna go see the Dalai Lama! Or maybe at least see the place that he resides when home? We'll see. I only have 4-5 days here then back to Delhi, hop a day train to Agra, come on back and then (GASP!), fly to Korea next Thursday!! LESS THAN A WEEK! I can't believe it... so we're going to pack it in every day!

I am becoming [in certain situations] a very patient person. Last night I sped walked (pack in tow) down the dusty Main Bazaar street in the Paharganj area of Delhi behind my bus ticket arranger for what seemed like a mile, then I crammed into a rickshaw with two Israeli girls (who just arrived in India that morning) and the ride was so long that I started to wonder whether or not the bus man failed to mention that we'd be taking that the whole way. Once at the bus... oh, that bus! I don't even know where to begin.

The stains on the seats were nothing compared to the broken ones - some didn't recline at all, some reclined all the way; some didn't have covers, some didn't have armrests. I picked a seat and sat down as you do on a bus, but the invisible seat numbers indicated by the frantic gesturing of the bus guys meant I needed to move not once, but twice and all the way to the back of the bus. Back of the bus? Fun! Not so much... (Note: I'm not upset about this journey in the slightest, in fact it was probably the best mode of transportation thus far given the stories it provided - close second is the roach-infested sleeper car from Mumbai to Udipi where I spooned my backpack.) The bench in the back didn't recline - it was a full on "L" - and the people in front didn't care so much and so they reclined comfortably. The thin foam pad we sat on flaked off on everything and the window didn't close all the way, which was good until we started getting further up north and further into the night. Dimly lit and slightly mildewy in smell, but that's nothing new.

The fun started when there were five of us already crammed onto the bench (TWO - that's right! not one, but TWO Americans did I meet!! We'll get to them in a minute) and because one of the seats was broken into an unsittable state the bus men wanted to put the broken chair man on the bench with the rest of us (the three Americans, the Nepalese engineer, the older Korean lady who wanted to sit with her mother but was pushed to the bench). We protested; we fought; we said, "NO WAY, Jose!" The Nepalese guy to the left of us suggested finding a strong branch or metal rod to keep the broken seat semi-attached to the good one. 15-20 minutes later they tied a handkerchief around the seat back handles. Wow. (The seat broke a little more every minute, and by the morning time it was hanging on by a wire and laying in the person behind it's lap.)

Once we started rolling it was the usual bumpy, dusty, exhaust-filled, horn blaring ride. (India's roads are actually louder and bumpier than any I've experienced, and granted that experience is limited to North America and Asia, I think it's safe to say that these roads are the loudest in the whole world.) The funky horn tune was fun the first four times, but then it just started feeling like I was on a runaway circus bus. (Note: The bump-jumps(!) on the road - full on out of your seat, so much so that in describing landing back on his seat, John said the only word for it was "anus stretcher": that's what I'm talking about when I say the back was a bit uncomfortable - and the rocking back and forth through the mountain lead to the title 'earthquake bus'.)

Another per usual, (so it seems) we stopped and picked up a few errands - which would be oh-so fun to drop off later - outside of Delhi. Midnight came and went with little sleep being had from rocking my sleeping head against any number of objects within head-fall range and trying to reason/push with/against the ajumma in front of me who kept trying to recline her seat further and further.

At 3:30 we made another unexpected stop. There was a red Goods Carrier truck tilted from being stuck in a huge pothole in the middle of the road (broken axle?). Our bus driver tried to go around it a few times after the bus in front of us didn't topple to its side. On the first try we didn't get enough gas. On the second try we ripped the red truck's side mirror off. On the third try two upper windows broke on the bus**! All the while this is happening, the bus riders being sleepy and confused are "WHOA"ing and "EEE"ing in a somewhat delighted horror (we all knew this was going to make an excellent story if we made it to M.G. in one piece). After the glass broke everyone thought it best to get out. We walked out into the shiver-inducing crisp mountain air and looked on as the other truck and bus drivers that had been spectators only moments before began digging out the hill around the side of the G.C. truck. After about 10 minutes of digging and a few unsuccessful (read: more glass shattering - all the while I'm just thinking about how cold it's going to be on the bus now, and also how glad I am that I'm sitting on that bench in the back after all) tries to get through, the driver makes it around the truck!! ...And then he keeps driving for some distance causing us to look at each other, "Is he not going to stop?" and then start running after him and shouting "Wait! Come back! You forgot about us!" in our respective languages. (I could just imagine the driver sitting up there in his chair, looking out his side mirror - still intact due to the low height and degree of GC slant - laughing and wondering how far he can make us go.)

The morning brought misty mountains in the dawning day and windy mountain passes that our driver insisted on taking on like a mad man. The older French men said that this wasn't the road they've been on before and all the villagers watched in confused interest as our giant, rickety bus clambered through their sleepy states blasting its "Come join the circus!" continuous horn.

Long story short: we were supposed to leave at 5:30p, but didn't pull out of the parking lot until a little after 7p. That should have put us in M.G. by 7am, but we got in just after 11a instead. Lovely way to start the day! A chai and a nap in my 150rs/night (ASAH!!!) room followed by a "hot" shower and frozen toes are all the in between things from now and then.

Since I just started walking around this place I don't know much, but I do know I like it, and already feel myself wanting to spend more time than I'm able to. Let's enjoy it while we can!

OH! And the Americans!! Beth and John from CO, both 39. Really cool people. They quit their jobs (medical ethnologist and aerospace engineer, respectively - impressive, right?) so they could travel the world for a year! So cool! They are the only unplanned Americans (as I saw friends from Korea in Mumbai, and my buddy Lauren and a few of her friends in Goa) I've encountered in India, and since the Vietnam-Cambodia bus. It's really great to meet fellow countrymen, I think all travelers can agree to that, because it's so nice to share something abroad with someone from your homeland - this is true for anybody, not just countrymen, even though shared homeland and language are really nice to find. All the Americans I've met on this trip have been pretty awesome - aside from one chick in Pai who had been traveling for just over 2 years and she was acting all holier than thou and being a braggart, but she was from Chicago's suburbs so what can you expect? (Zing!) Just kidding. I know a lot of genuinely wonderful quality people from the suburbs of Chicago.

Totally unrelated (but do you expect anything less from me?) when I was staying in Goa, the first couple days the shop ladies kept asking me if I was English and then telling me that they loved my white skin (I'm not that white. I thought), then they would say that I looked like I was 20, and I knew they were lying through our whole conversation. It's almost as if they knew the moment that I was figuring them out that they sprung. "You look at my shop?" And the anklets, bracelets and necklaces start appearing on your lap or the blanket they stealthily spread out while you blinked. Wait! I said I wasn't going to buy anything. "It's okay. You just have look for good luck." Whose good luck, lady?

INDIA! I love you.

**All the crunching reminded me of the time when I moved myself up to Chicago in 2008 via U-Haul with my friend Lauren (same one who I saw in Goa!). After mastering the highways with a white-knuckled grip I thought I was more than ready to tackle the city streets of Chi City - and(!) parallel parking. I told Lauren that she didn't need to get out of the car; I could handle the task. As I'm reversing into the spot I hear a crunch-crunch-crunch, look over at a worried face Lauren who says, "I think you just hit a car."
Me: No, no. That's just ice. (It being the first of March and there's still winter on the ground.)
(Continue reversing.)
crunch-crunch-crunch
L: I don't think that's ice.
M: It's okay!
L: (oh shit/yeah right face)
(Continue reversing.)
crunch-crunch-crunch
M: (head in my hands) I don't think it is either.
L: Do you want me to get out and check?
M: Yeah...
L: (exits and shouts) Yep! You scraped it up pretty good.

So it was the truck behind me, but it was all the fault of a twisted metal bumper on the U-Haul so I left a note after L directed me perfectly, and insurance took care of everything. Phew!