February 23rd, 2003
"The Bullet and Me"
Well well well,
3147 kilometres later...
We (the Bullet and me) have a love-hate relationship. Or more accurately,
hate-love.
I was highly delusional when I started my motorcycle adventure--I actually
thought that my Royal Enfield Bullet cycle would be different, would be
reliable. Not the case. I have given my bike's brand name an honorary change
from 'Royal Enfield' to 'Royal Pain-in-the-Ass'. The company slogan is 'Built
Like a Gun'. Yeah, a gun with a 180-degree barrel. It has two modes of
operation: (1) Somethings wrong, and (2) Somethings about to go wrong. That's
it.
I left
Things have been better since, but only slightly...I now have logged six trips
to mechanics (including getting my second set of piston rings) and one trip to a
welding shop. I've learned an oil change is completely unnecessary, as various
leaks mean you are constantly adding oil anyway, so you probably will completely
change the oil in the crankcase over a few days or weeks.
Yesterday was a bitch though. Started off early in the day by running out of
fuel for the sixth time. That's right, sixth. I freely admit to being an idiot.
But running out of fuel in itself has added some adventures--I've gotten fuel
out of a moped, from a used car dealer, I've filled a water bottle after walking
to a gas station, and I've had to push. This time I gave an Indian kid on a bike
20 rupees and a half-litre bottle and he biked 3 km (and back) to get the gas.
Anyway, 10 km further, my electrical system went awry, which I resolved
(temporarily) by visiting a mechanic in the next town. Less than 1 km further, I
blew a fuse again, so I resolved the problem myself this time, by hard-wiring
past the fuse. That was great until when 20 km further, my ammeter's going nuts
and wires are smoking and melting together. Fixed that by pulling the melting
smoking wires out. Bike still ran okay after that, so whatever. The next 300 km
went kinda smoothly but fuel's getting past the piston--I think my piston rings
are f*#&ed again. Nevertheless I hobbled into
Questions you may ask...
Do I regret buying a motorcycle in
Would I do it over? Yes.
Will I do it again? No.
Even if it breaks a lot, it still looks cool. And I look cool riding it. And I
have a cool Spiderman decal that I put on the chrome air filter cover. What else
really matters, in the big scheme of things?
=============================
"3-D Interactive Video Game!"
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That's the best way to describe driving in
The roads vary from double-lane highways to horrible asphalt (perhaps laid under
British rule and not maintained since) to dirt paths, often within a span of a
few kilometres. They are filled with carts pulled by cows, reckless buses (which
often will run you off the road), bicyclists, herders with goats and cows and
sheep taking up the whole road, dogs, pedestrians, trucks, scooters. And then
there's the occasional camel or elephant or monkey, and of course wreckage
sites--a daily encounter.
And then there are my favorite obstacles...my personal #1: grain. People pile
their grain in the road after harvest; the passing vehicles run over it and
shuck it. Yeah, that's great for bigger vehicles on more than two wheels, but
not such a good idea for motorcycles. Runner-up goes to unmarked speed bumps, or
more accurately, speed hills. But these aren't so bad because I recently quit
caring about my motorcycle, so now I just hold tight, grit my teeth, and nail
them head on, trying to guess whether or not I'll bottom my shocks out.
But motorcycles are the kings of the road in
When I started in
It really is fun riding a bike here. Lots of adventure. Get lost a lot, which is
okay sometimes but not too much. Funny thing--intersections are rarely signed.
You take an educated guess, and then about a kilometre later you see a sign that
says where you're going (in Hindi--English if you're lucky). And in towns,
forget it. Like entering a tilt-a-whirl. Ask directions. Often. Rickshaw drivers
know best.
Every time I stop in a village, a crowd surrounds me and the motorcycle. My best
reception yet was in the city of
But to move on...what have I done, what have I seen?
I visited Fatephur Sitri, the site of a big mosque and some old palace ruins.
Then I headed down to Mandu, a remote village that has incredible old ruins of
palaces, temples, bat-filled wells, and a Turkish bath--all scattered around a
range of hills overlooking a wonderful valley. Awesome place!
Spent a few days touring with Andreas, a German guy who rode his BMW motorcycle
across from
Afterwards, visited Ellora, the site of one of the most stunning things I've
ever seen: a temple completely carved out of a solid rock cliff. They started
from the top and just started carving downwards, never needing scaffolding. The
whole external temple was carved out, then the inside was carved out as well.
And it's big. Took 7000 people 150 years to carve. Puts
Got to Pune, where I hung out for a while. Met a Swedish couple and spent a
couple days with them, discovering the amazing food that is
butterscotch-covered-cashews. Lots of fresh bread and papayas and saw the
American movie "The Transporter", quite a sorry excuse for a film, but a nice
break anyway.
Then I hit Bijapur. This was intended to be an overnight stopover only. But I
found that the city was so entirely NORMAL. Not any big tourist attraction. And
I loved it! Made some Indian friends, had some clothes tailored, got my
motorcycle fixed, hung out...for three days. I saw a parade, then I ended up
following it and kind of becoming part of it. People would cheer at me and throw
yellow flowers sometimes and rub stuff on my forehead.
Then to Hampi, en route hitting some temples at Pattadakal and Mahakuta (tiny
village on a dead-end road where I joined the villagers for a free lunch, eaten
with hands and served on a palm leaf). And Badami, where there's temples carved
into a striking red cliff and lots of monkeys hanging out. And to some
intricately carved temples at Lakkundi, where I tried to find a shortcut and
ended up picking up a hitchhiker--an old-timer--in a little village, and
following an impossible series of converging diverging dirt paths, under his
guidance, to get there.
Most recent destination was Hampi, where I spent several days. Incredible sight:
temples temples and more temples scattered around a boulder-strewn landscape
with a river cutting through it and clusters of banana trees. My whole time
there, I did very little. Ate fresh mangos and bananas and papayas. Slept in.
Napped by the river. Read. Relaxed.
Yesterday, as I mentioned earlier I drove to
Random facts:
Travellers in
1) Spiritual travellers. These guys have intense spiritual experiences, which
means they take lots of drugs and maybe wear robes and stuff.
2) "Indian" travellers. These guys say they're just like locals because they eat
Indian food and wear Indian clothes, but really they eat at Indian places set up
for Westerners and serve pizza, and they dress like
foreigners-trying-to-be-locals-in-India, not like real Indians.
3) Miscellaneous. That's me I think, or hope.
4) High-buck, quick-trippers. #1-3 usually don't see #4 because fortunately they
protect us from them by staying inside fancy hotels and restaurants and tour
buses.
The dual-pricing system sucks. I didn't mind,
I'm starting to like Indian food, which I freely admitted to hating merely weeks
ago. Maybe I'm sick. Starting to master eating with my hands as well, which is
tricky with rice mixed with liquidy stuff, at first.
People from my home town of
Me: "I'm from your sister city--
Her: "What?"
Me: "Your sister city. Town by the same name in MN. You sent us a big statue of
Jose Artigas (Uruguayan national hero). It's on main street."
Her: "Oh."
Me: "You never knew?"
Her: "Nope."
So that's that.
Final note...
Impossible to describe some moments...relaxing sitting on a wooden plank
suspended beneath the branches of a huge mango tree as the sun sets, above a
terraced hillside, and below there's the winding river and brightly-colored
laundry drying on rocks and papaya trees and bright green rice paddies...so
peaceful...
"I couldn't go back now. I'm on the threshold. I see vast lands of the spirit
stretching out before me, beckoning, and I'm eager to travel them." (-
Away Awhile is hosted by Josh Trutwin.