Lazy Day Of Wasting Money

Tibetan Beads

Sitting at Macloed Ganj in a little restaurant at top end of the market awaiting steamed chicken mo mo's and a cold coffee. the waiters are actually kind of sweet. The night went fairly well although the hotel sure did suck. The cable was distracting if not entertaining. The room was at the end of a long hallway, which seemed to funnel every noise in the building into my room. I swear I could here people’s footsteps on the floor above me as clear as if it had been inchs away from my ears. I kept hearing this scrapping and tapping. I finally located the culprit. It was a man brushing off his shoes two stories below on the street! I could here the clatters and splashes of people taking bucket baths in the other rooms and the slap slap slap of someone making chapatti in the kitchen. When I ordered chicken fried rice I was told sternly that they only served VEG food although half the menu was chicken and mutton and when I ordered hot chocolate I was told in a "are you stupid or something?!" voice that they did not serve it. Why they had it on their hotel menu remains a mystery. I lay in bed (shivering slightly) watching "40 days and 40 nights” and trying to ignore the chorus of noises resounding from the each side of my room. I soon curled up into a ball an prepared to drift into a blissful slumber when I noticed that a multi legged, 4 inch long creature was sharing the pillow with me. . After sending my friend on a trip to the sewers I returned to bed, watching the worst the American movie industry had to offer untill the early hours of the morning. All this for 555Rs! India-what a country. I finally got up the never to shop, blowing several hundred on beads, jewelry and junk. I didn't bargain once which seems rather odd but somehow it didn't seem like the way to go with these merchants. My favorite purchase was a silver Tibetan bracelets and a turquoise pendant for mom. No sleazy guys, no hassle, and the beggars weren’t all that bad. Life is good. I almost feel invisible. I also met a nice guy today at the Kashmir Indian Gifts And Arts Emporium. Of course he just wanted to sell stuff but he was nice about it. LATER Jeff (Buddhist wannabee) is a sweetheart. I went with him to his hotel right next to the Dalai Lamas residence and he shower me the temple there and the room he stayed in. Wow-money sure does make a difference. It was one of those hotels that have theme rooms and deluxe waiting rooms...the whole shebang. Hey, did I mention my theory about American food consumption? I think they (American corps.) are putting additives in our food to make us hungry and thus, obese. Seriously! I eat half as much here as I do in America. Anyways, it is something to look into when I get back. Mass MSG production? The Manali waiter just might have to wait on our meeting. I don't think I will be able to make it today because it is pouring rain. Knowing Indians, he probably wouldn't show up anyways. LATER Ahhh...I went to the Manali and I am stuffed! Lets see, Wednesday we are going to Amritsar for two days before heading back to Delhi. Maybe it’s the fact that you fry in pollution and the filth constantly permeates your every pore that’s Delhi hard to take, or maybe it’s just the intensity of it all. I am in one of those places where it is important to look busy and I can't think of anything to write. Hmm, 45 minutes to go. Why do I get myself into these situations? I really scare myself sometimes. It is like there is a wiser, bigger me who watches in terror at what stupid things the physical side of me does. I wonder if that’s my soul? I will go somewhere and know full well that it’s a bad idea but some how that idea does not translate into action. It is actually like a generally feeling of doom rather then a thought. Ugh, old men with no manners is revolting....YUK! Oh my god they just brought me like 10lbs of rice...I’m going to die! Wow, the waiter here isn’t a sleaze. He actually left me alone. To bad all the nice guys around here are shy as mice. This rice is about 50% salt... must have changed cooks. The meal from hell continues.....with lukewarm milk to pass as coffee, my salty rice and my waiters hacking as if they are on their death beds (you know that flemmy sick sounding hack people do when they are dying) this meal is working out just great. My waiter has vanished (the one I am eating this for). I hate it when I can't think of anything to say to people...it’s so awkward. The secret to journaling is taking it with you everywhere, especially when you eat alone. It will not only make you remember to write, it will also save you from awkward pauses in conversation. It is sort of like a third dinner guest.