The Doldrums

I'm going to assume that many of you have read my last post by now. Didn't it suck? I mean, here I am in India - Incredible India!!! - and instead of regaling you all with an exciting summary of my adventures in this vibrant country, I'm dedicating hundreds of words to describe some American guy getting booted in the toosh.

It's not that there aren't plenty of things to discuss. Oh no. Why, in only the past 10 days I've amassed a long list of riveting and memorable experiences that are well worth a mention on this page. Just last week, while in McLeod Ganj, I had occasion to visit a hilltop temple to witness the Dalai Lama giving a sermon in Buddhist philosophy, live and in the pink. Not long before that, I danced and partied with a large group of fun-loving Indians at the wild and wacky India/Pakistan border-closing ceremony in Attari. And let's not forget my visit to the Golden Temple in Amritsar - Sikhism's holiest shrine - which is a structure so beautiful and captivating that even the Taj Mahal could get a run for its money.

But the sad reality is that I simply don't feel like sharing any of this. And the reason for that is that I'm tired.

Tired of traveling.

I started this trip on January 11, 2007. Look at your calendars. That's nearly 14 months ago.
14 months of incessantly moving about.
14 months of living out of a bag.
14 months of eating sketchy food, drinking contaminated water and sleeping in questionably-sanitary beds.
14 months of having to make new friends when all I want is to see my old ones.
14 months of being called names like Gringo or Mzungu or Gorri.
14 months of being typecast by locals as having so much money that I should just give it away to anyone who sticks their hands out.
14 months without a Tim Horton's bagel.

Here's the important bit. What happens when you take a jaded Canadian traveler, and put him in India, land of 1 billion people and constant humdrum noise?

You get a nasty motherfucker.

I apologize for my foul language, but sometimes it's necessary in order to convey your point. And my point is that India is driving me bonkers. The people here are in your face constantly, and I'm simply not in the mood to put up with it anymore. I don't want to have any more arguments with rickshaw drivers over what amounts to a 10 cent overcharge. I'm tired of being told that my shower is hot, when it is in fact icier than Lake Louise in February. I can no longer stand the smell of the nefarious liquids that flow through the open sewers running adjacent to every street. And I sure as Hell could do without another steaming pot of curry.

Bit sad, isn't it? I'm completely missing the point of being here. Normally I'm pretty resilient when it comes to dealing with the trials and tribulations of immersing oneself in another culture, even one so different as that in India. If you put India under the microscope, it is nothing short of fantastic. The people are incredibly friendly, and most often their desire to pester you simply stems from their curiosity about Western cultures. India is cheap - for $10 a day you can live in luxury, which is more than most Indians ever get to experience. And talk about diversity - India is huge! There are sunny beaches here, mountains, jungles, wild animals, hundreds of different languages, a multitude of types of cuisine, and much much more. India is like the whole world, condensed into one insane place.

Or one place that makes you insane, I'm not certain. What I am certain of is that I don't like the type of traveler I have become on account of spending time here after Africa wore me down. Too many times I've overheard conversations by other travelers in cafes or hostels, whereby someone is bitching about the dirty bedsheets or the local music or whatever it is they don't like about the country they're in. My question is always "SO WHY THE HELL DON'T YOU GO HOME THEN, YOU TROGLODYTE?"

Well it appears that I, Mike Hudson, the Thirsty Traveler, have become the troglodyte. Or perhaps that would be true if I elected to stay here. But I won't. I'm making a change. My India visa ends March 14, and I had planned to continue traveling overland into Nepal for a month. Nepal isn't India, but it's close, so for the time being I'm going to stay away. I'm sure the Nepalese don't need a grouchy Canadian in their country, one who has taken to outright physically assaulting the touts who climb on his back at the bus stations. Nepal will see me some day, and I promise that when I go, I'll be in a good mood.

I've paid my dues, I've seen some crazy things and done some even crazier ones (much to the chagrin of my dear Mother and my lovely girlfriend) , and now it's time to relax. To relax, and to behave myself.

So here's the plan. March 14, I am flying to Singapore, followed by a second flight to Bali a few days later. Bali's got two things to keep me settled: a lot of beaches, and one of my best friends on Earth: Jackson (or is it Jelly, or Jackfruit or Jingoism?). That ought to calm my nerves and prepare me for whatever may follow.

Put away your sympathy. Feel free to accuse me of being an ass. I certainly am thinking and behaving like one. But I'm trying to fix the problem.

As for accounts of my travels (the good bits, anyway), I'll get that back on track in the next few days. I'd also like to formally announce that I will be spending some time this summer compling and expanding my Africa stories into a book. A possibility that is worth exploring.

Just like India. When you're in the right mindset.