I have promised several of you that as life got back on an even keel I would post my travel journal - with pictures.  Some time ago I came to the conclusion that life never gets back on an even keel.  In order to get back to equilibrium it would, of necessity, had to have been level at some point in the past.  Therefore, it seems the best course of action is to simply hold my nose and jump.  So, here goes.

Back on April 8 Himself, the boy, and I departed the western hemisphere for yet another sojourn to the orient - this time India.  As you know, we travel, and indeed I know how lucky we are to be in a position to do so.  I worry a good bit that we maybe shouldn't do so much – with kids in college, a wedding in the planing, a horse with expensive veterinary needs, etc. but the money that comes into this home is the hub’s and the travel is what he loves the very most, so who am I to say – but, but, but the cost?

That said - Love India! Loved Thailand more but still, India was fantastic.  What I am going to do for the next month or so is share my travel journal with you.  I don’t normally journal as we travel, though the man always does – but I figured since the boy was being made to keep one, I should set a good example and keep one as well.  Of course there is the added benefit that a journal would make decent blog fodder for a while. 

Understand that most days on this adventure began before 6 am and ended somewhere around 10 pm so time to write was not always easily found and as I have read back through the journal, I know I left out an awful lot.  I’ll try to fill in a bit as I go here.  Everyday was packed from beginning to end.  Even the hours spent on the exercise equipment/ torture device otherwise called a bus on Indian roads were packed with amazing sights and a constant education in Indian culture. Our guide was always full of explanations and stories.  Aside from the fact that while riding the bus it was a challenge just to blow your nose without breaking it in the effort  – writing while riding would have been completely impossible.  Did, however, try to take pictures while bouncing…

It is written, a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step (or - watch out, camels spit, or something like that) and a trip to India is no different.  The first couple days spent getting to India I did not journal, so I am simply recounting from memory here.  We began by driving an hour or so to the small airport, located in upstate South Carolina, that was the take off point for our first flight.  From there it was a relatively short two hour flight, give or take, to Dallas/Fort Worth.  After a three hour or so lay-over, the next flight was about nine hours to London – got to watch several of the movies I've wanted to see but had not yet done so, among them Red, the latest Narnia movie, and True Grit – tried to watch Black Swan but it was just too painful.  The transfer in London to the next flight was a matter of disembarking, working our way across the airport, then straight onto the next 747 for another nine-hour flight to Delhi.  Do not pass go, do not collect $100.  Every flight was reasonably smooth – no real problems, all the luggage present and accounted for at our final destination.  The sort of flight experiences that would make a first timer think world travel is a breeze.  Except for passport control in Delhi that is.  Not that it was super painful, we have certainly experienced worse – but after about a day and a half of travel since leaving our home, dealing with the extra slow pace of the Indian life style took a gargantuan effort and constant repeating of the mantra “I will be patient and keep my sense of humor.”   We just wanted to find the man in front of the airport with the OAT (our travel tour group) sign and be taken to our hotel - waiting for the painfully slow man - Mohammad no less - with the thinning hennaed hair to work his way through our three passports and visas was excruciatingly frustrating. 

We had arrived at about midnight and were met by our tour leader, Karni, who sheparded the lot of us to the bus that would be our chariot for the next two weeks.  Our group of travel companions was comprised of sixteen people: the three in our family – two teachers from California who were traveling together (one an art teacher, the other a Spanish teacher) – two other older women from California traveling together (one a retired middle school science teacher, the other a retired nurse) – an older couple from Arizona (though they were older, they were newlyweds – very cute) – another older couple from Texas ( well, she is from Texas, he is a Brit) – four women from the Bronx ( actually, three are from Jamaica and the other is from Cuba – but they all live in the Bronx now and they were all fun to travel with) – and a lady from Cary, NC (near Raleigh).

The ride across Delhi began our emersion in Indian culture.  We had arrived during some festival (there are always festivals going on – with thousands of gods and goddesses there is always something to celebrate…) for some goddess or other and every night it was pulling  in thousands and thousands of people from the surrounding countryside  to Q up for a blessing by some holy man in a temple just off the highway.  Never saw the temple but saw the thousands of people – women brightly dressed in their most sparkly saris, children in their frilly best.  Karni told us they would be in line all night to finally get their blessing and head home just in time to begin a busy day of work.  It is impossible to explain how thickly the people were packed in the lines that stretched miles in every direction.  No pictures were taken at this point.  We were all brain numbed, bordering on catatonic – plus it was night and we were bouncing on the bus for the first time.  Did not even occur to me that I should try to dig out the camera.

We finally arrived at our hotel around 1 am and were greeted with our first taste of hotel security – magnetometers, bags through scanners, yadda yadda – then our first yellow dot between the eyes and a lei of marigolds draped around each of our necks, our first welcome drink served to us by a turbaned young man from a silver tray.  This first hotel was very nice, beautiful really – but most importantly to us at that time, it had nice clean beds ready and waiting. 

Stay tuned for our first Indian breakfast and the beginning of our action packed days of hilarity and peril - have you ever heard about the way they drive in India? OMG!  just sayin'