Tea fields of southern India

Journal Entry 16

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 Delhi--where I had made a lot of friends--and headed south--and have been solitary most of the time since. I had two flat tires, some faulty electronic connections, parts falling off the bike due to nuts vibrating loose, a broken bungee cord that almost sent my backpack sprawling off the back, a leaky clutch case seal that coated the rear of the cycle in black oil, tappets that needed adjusting, and two trips to mechanics. Other than that, my first six days on the bike went smoothly.

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 Mysore, my current location, at 9pm last night, complete with oil-stained jeans, soot-covered face, and sunburned forearms.

Questions you may ask...
Do I regret buying a motorcycle in India? No.
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!"
=============================

That's the best way to describe driving in India. But it's even better, because no video game programmer could dream up some of the stuff you encounter. And there are no rules. [People had said that corrupt police will try to wheedle money out of you, but I have solved this problem by never stopping for them. As my friend Andreas wisely pointed out, "They have no vehicles, no communication, what are they going to do?"]

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 India. We swerve around obstacles. We don't pay tolls. We blow by police checkpoints (legally I think). We (well, I) fly over speed bumps as other vehicles slow almost to a halt. We ride shoulders and weave through traffic jams. Other vehicles may be bigger and faster, but we'll get there first...however, we are also flattened easily, a fact I have witnessed, and that I never forget.

When I started in Delhi a month ago, I was wearing three layers plus gloves. It's been fun to slowly descend in latitude. For a while there, every single night I could feel a slight increase in temperature. But now it's mostly just hot all the time. Fields of green have been replaced by, well, fields of green. But different kinds of green I guess, and patches of more tropical-looking stuff. And there weren't monkeys in the roads up there.

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 Dhulia, where I visited a mechanic. A group of 40 had gathered around me. When the motorcycle was fixed, I put on my goggles (the space-invader ones I bought in northern China--always a hit!) and jean jacket, started the bike, smiled, and gave everyone a double thumbs-up. The crowd cheered. Someone threw confetti in the air. People fought their way through the crowd to shake my hand as I tried to create a path through the mass of humans to get back to the road.

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 Germany. We went to Ajanta, the site of about 30 Buddhist caves carved out of a rocky hillside--they were amazing. Emaculate carvings and well-preserved paintings, some over 2000 years old!

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 Mount Rushmore to shame.

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 Mysore. En route, I stopped at Belur and saw a temple complex there. Best one yet. The detail in the carvings in incredible--outside the temple, base to roof, inside the temple, floor to ceiling. These people took their temples seriously. Mysore's fine. Just a stopover for me. A big palace here, yadda yadda. Off again tomorrow. I'm nearing the southern tip of India, quite a ways from Delhi!

Random facts:
Travellers in India are funny. There are four classes:
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, Mongolia, say, because at a hotel maybe I'd be charged 2-3 times the Mongolian price, and Mongolia's dirt-poor. But here, admissions are often 20-30 times the local price! I do my best to circumvent this by climbing over walls or simply peering in from the outside.

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 Montevideo, Minnesota, read the following bit with caution--it may break you up. I recently met a woman from Montevideo, Uruguay. Conversation:
Me: "I'm from your sister city--Montevideo, MN."
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." (-W. Somerset Maugham, 'The Razor's Edge')

 


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