If language is a barrier, the Beatles are universal

We left Colorado a week ago and already it feels like a really long time. Sometimes it feels like India is a whole different world as men in Dehli are selling all kinds of fried dough, people are spilling out of every corner and dogs, cows and roosters have the run of the streets. At other moments, like on an island in Dal Lake in Kasmir with only four trees, two benches and at least ten Pepsi signs, it seems like the West will never leave us.

Our trip over the ocean to Germany and then over into Dehli was long but uneventful. Leigh was sniffling, I was trying every position possible to sleep and the Hindi man next to me kept waking me up to ask me questions and to tell me how much I would love Calcutta. He was also trying to explain some Hindi words to the man next to him, who only spoke German and Spanish. Leigh was a great help in this process as she is fluent in Spanish. I in my unilingal ignorance was entirely useless. During this whole language exchange, the Indian mother in the row in front of us heard us say hello and goodbye several times, in an attempt to understand how we should say it in India, and she started singing "Hello, Goodbye" to her baby.


We arrived in Dehli impossibly early on Friday, although our bodies had no idea what the time was, and got an arranged ride to our hotel in Pahar Ganj, the backpacker haven in Dehli. Apperently it is also the easiest place to buy drugs, as we learned one night as a man with a stall selling the most random stuff shouted "Water, toilet paper, drugs!" The next morning we left our hotel, refusing the barrage of offers for a taxi, guided tours or ricksaws. We wanted to walk, so we embarked into Dehli with a vague idea of where we were going and no map. "Excuse me, where you going?" "Madame, where you from?" Men from every corner, wanting to lead us somewhere, seemed to know exactly what gets the attention of white women. Leigh was unflustered, I was panicking. With no idea what these men wanted or how to get rid of them, I would keep talking to them until we ended up loosing them. It took the better part of that day to realize that even thought they acted offended, some asking us "you no like Indians?" that the best way to loose a pursuer was to ignore them.

We spent most of the day walking through town, getting our bearing and deciding when we were going to head to Agra. Honestly I couldn't wait to go. I felt the same way I did my first two days in Dublin. Overwhelmed, extremely tired and entirely unprepared. This may just be a feeling I get the first few days of a long trip, but it is always improved upon bailing from whatever city I may be in. So our plan became attend the Republic Day Celebrations the next morning and head to Agra the day after.

Of course, this is Leigh and I and plans usually turn into misadventures. At the travel office, what we are now realizing might have been an arm of the rich and powerful Khar family which has manage to monopolize our trip in a very cheeky way, we were informed that there would be no tickets to Agra in the next few days. When Leigh mentioned maybe going to Kasmir, Lateef (our agent and turns out, a Khar) lit up. He told us of Srinigar, the houseboats bobbing on Dal Lake, and the vastly improved saftely situtation in Kasmir. Four days later Leigh and I realized that our paths here may have been the result of a little manipulation. Never the less, I couldn't be happier we came. Kasmir is beautiful, albeit very cold. I had to buy a coat in Dehli for 130 rupees- about 3 dollars. The people here are wonderful, including the man who tends our houseboat Rashid, who probably thinks the we are a little silly but seems to have taken to us. It has been an adventure here, and we will probably end up extending our stay. More on that later...