last weekend we departed on a camping journey. jamie, ethan, brian, allison, dave, jason-from-taylor and i loaded up our packs with goodies, our motorcycles with packs and set off on the open road. 
over a mountain ridge, down to the valley, through the most un-navigable roads possible… and finally to the deolsari forest. during the last leg of the journey, the girls had to de-bike to trade our helmets in for a share jeep. share jeeps frequently breeze by on my morning walks to work, packed with as many as 25 passengers venturing to a variety of locales. it’s indian mass transport—dangerous, somewhat careless and generally a bit uncomfortable. 
during our 6 km climb, jamie, al and i rode on the roof and then were “lucky” enough to obtain seats in the cab of the jeep, encroaching indian man and all. there is something about indian men… i am not a nice person. not the best version of myself. this is not smiley-thai society, overly polite japanese society or welcoming, open ecuadorian society. this is every woman for herself. shield up. battle.“you are very beautiful, could you please sing a song for me?”
(after which, i told the worst lie of my life…) “i don’t know any songs and i don’t like music.”
“i am not married. i live in the next village.”
“i have been married for many years. we (motioning to Allison, Jamie and i) are all married. our husbands are waiting for us.” (they actually are married… i am a liar).
the guard seemed as if it could be lowered after exiting the cab of the jeep and parking the motorcycles. not so, friends. now, when i depict the following, you might think it’s cute, loveable and welcoming. not so. when 20 village children approach the whities, start singing songs and yelling, irritation levels do not fall, but rise. after losing the shorties in the forest, we employed one boy (the weird things about india are that even in camping, you are not alone and even in the middle of the forest and you can pay a kid 50 rupees to gather firewood) to gather wood.
alright, just like this weekend, the journey tires me. slack-lined, ate hobo packs (is that the correct camping lingo?), slept under the stars and trees… the like. and we were even back in time for chapel. boo-ya, shackalacka.
1 comment:
looks beautiful! are those the himalayas?
can you also hire a small indian boy to toast you a smore?
do you really go to chapel?
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