Trains

The only way to see India is by train. Anyone who tells you different has never been thrown around the inside of an Indian bus like a clown at a rodeo. Actually, now that I think of it, a helicopter would be a decent way to see the country, or rocket boots! Yeah, rocket boots. Okay, let's start again. The only way to see India is by rocket boots. But until China sets up monkey staffed rocket boot plant, none of us will be able to afford them. So trains it is.

The trains in India are cheap, reliable, and guarantee interaction with colorful locals. My favorite so far was the flaming transvestite from Bikaner who entered our compartment slapping his sari-clad thigh and huffing through his nose. I had no idea what to make of this guy, but with emphatic nods and gestures I convinced him that Ben was extremely interested in all that he had to offer. Another prize was the mouthy, sweater-vested bureaucrat who happens to hold the world record for motorcycling through the five highest mountain passes in the world in the least amount of time. He is currently in touch with Guinness to make it official.

Yes the trains in India are a wonderful experience. They never seem to top 30 miles an hour and can't make it 15 miles without stopping at another village. People seem to live absolutely everywhere in India. Currently about 10, 000 people permanently live in the Calcutta train station. Ben even found a family of seven crammed into his fanny pack. Talk about valuable real-estate, Trump Fanny Packs can't be far BEHIND. Ha! (I sincerely apologize for this pun and promise to restrain myself in the future. Please keep reading. Pretty please.)

Camels

Camels are goofy animals. Their faces are incongruous combinations of Betty Boop eyelashes and the thick lipped, dopey grin of an overweight Hannah-Barbera sidekick. They slurp up any desert brush with thorns on it and chew on it all night long- a sound like boots walking in wet gravel. They never move too quick and can take a nap anytime, anywhere. People rag on them for their smell, but no water means no bathing, and after four daysin the desert we were in no position to point fingers. As they say down South, "God made the dirt and the dirt don't hurt."

The desert was peaceful but far from empty. Everyday we ran accross shepards who wander the parched terrain with their flocks until the rains arrive and wash them back to their furrowed, expectant fields. Some have been wandering for four years now. When the rains return, the deset soil is said to turn rich and black and produce enough hair oil seed to put Soul Glow out of business.

We passed the cool evening hours playing dune to dune frisbee. The desert is the perfect place for frisbee. No wind, no obstacles, no interruptions, and no shoes necessary. The stars and moon are so bright that you can even play at night. If you ever go, take a frisbee. Sure, sure most people will make a lot of noise about water and sun protection, but their priorities are all backwards. A good, heavy frisbee will make your trip memorable.