India Blog 9
Farting to peace & quiet
It was the fart to end all farts. A massive monster of a fart. Not a rifle shot… but a spinning rumbling bubbling… burbling… growling… slightly oozy monster fart… a never ending fart… rolling like thunder… each wave of sound and pressure building building to a crescendo… a symphonic far… giant… awe inspiring… deafening… audible for blocks… a collective Was that what I think it was? from the scores of people within earshot. It’s only a prelude of things to come.
Ahh, now I feel better.
I’ve got the rest of today and three more left in India. It’s been an adventurous trip… I’ll need a month to recover fully. I wonder if I lost weight? I don’t feel thinner, but I’ve contributed so much to the Indian waste disposal system… those pounds have to go somewhere.
With half of my truckload of Immodium gone, I think I’ve developed a resistant strain. Thanks to Anant’s mom and her prescriptions it doesn’t hurt like it did before. (At its worst, I couldn’t go an hour without screaming pain.) But the sanitation system suffers… as does DAX my poor host whose toilet was already broken even before I got there. Water doesn’t fill the tank, so Dax runs a hose from the cold-water shower to fill the back of the tank. Quite often, I fear.
Then there’s the cough. I’ve long since used up my supply of Fisherman’s Friend. I’ve discovered an Indian brand: Koflet-- that works almost as well and is even MORE foul-tasting. But it works.
Today I went to what was to be my last Hindu temple. It’s a relatively new temple-- built this millennium… immense… really beautiful from the outside… within pissing distance of a Metro station. So what could be wrong?
When you enter there’s a sign that says BAG CHECK. Ok, that’s convenient. I can leave my daypack there and see the place easier. Nope… The bag check is not for YOU to check your bag. It’s for THEM to check your bag… explosives, time bombs, guns, knives… you get the idea.
That sign, along with the massive crowd gathering in front of the entrance (probably for more security goodies) turns me around. I head for the exit… fast. Back to Cafe Coffee Day, where I sit now... typing this… but am unable to use the “free” wifi because it requires an Indian phone number to log it. I don’t have an Indian phone number.
PLAN B: I’ll go to the botanical gardens. I hate zoos, and botanical gardens are just zoos for plants, but somehow I like them. We’ll see….
Yes! The only real peace and quiet I’ve seen in India… at times I feel like I’m the only one in the park… apart from a couple playful puppies. I just sit and read… a park ranger comes over… stands right in front of me… Openly looking at me… silent as the night before Christmas… staring at me with deadly eyes… I smile and wave. He gives a military turn and walk away.
Back to peaceful quiet. The only problem is the air… Ah the air in Delhi. The air.
Oh yeah, back in the metro…. ready t go someplace NOT Cafe Coffee Day for dinner… I’m pleased to find that they still use feet and inches.
I thought they were metric!
--more to come
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