Someone opened the front zipper of my backpack again today (happened in Nicaragua this fall, too), probably in the crowded train station. I only had bug spray and a stick of deodorant in that pocket and it’s very apparent they don’t use either of those things in India, so nothing was stolen.

Male friends and relatives are extremely affectionate here. They walk around with their arm around each other or even holding hands. Yet you never really see physical contact or affection between men and women in public, even when they’re a couple.

Every single one of the waiters I’ve encountered is a man.

In fact, almost all of the professional or service jobs seem to be taken by men. With so many people, such high unemployment, and backwards cultural barriers to women in the workplace (or women’s rights at all) I’ve seen women selling fruit and working as cleaning ladies, but that’s it.

People in India go to Dubai for work. They pay a lot, their economy is booming, and it’s much easier to get a visa than the United States. The nice lady who was running my homestay (contradicting my previous statement completely) went over there for three months at a time once or twice a year to work. She had no friends or family there or any life outside of work, but it allowed her to make good wages to send back to her family in India so they could get a little ahead.

One consistent thing in the world – everyone is pissed at the U.S. because out visa process is so ridiculously hard, costly, and stringent, especially after 9/11.  It’s nearly impossible for good, hard working people from poor countries to go there, even for student or work visas. While you may think this is just how it goes to protect our national interests, it’s ridiculously easy for U.S. citizens to get a visa to any other countries, and a flood of American companies set up on foreign soil to make money from those same poor people, or evade paying taxes back home.

Back in the 1970’s, there was a “brain drain” in India, as many of the doctors, engineers, and smart, affluent people emigrated to the United States because of economic opportunity. Fascinating enough, in the early 2000s when the tech bubble burst and again in 2008 with the recession, many of their children headed back to India to work and live because this country presented better opportunities.

They say the NYPD is looking to hire more police officers of Indian descent so the young guy working at my home stay told me his dream is to go to America and New York to become a cop. However, he's only seen snow on TV and in the movies and thinks the cold and ice looks “nice”. 

The dogs here are very happy and tranquil and there are a lot of them. They just curl up and sleep in the sun anywhere – on the beach, on the train track, or in the street. I was meditating (don’t laugh) and deep breathing and stretching on the beach this morning and a dog came right up and laid down next to me to chill.

Speaking of yoga, I took two classes. One was run by a teacher at an Ayurdic medicine center. I was supposedly for beginners but the pretzeling he was asking me to do was inhuman, and they he was confused why my body wouldn't comply. The second class was on the beach in the morning and consisted mostly of breathing and gentle movements, which I liked a lot better 

I seriously cannot find a decent Wi-Fi connection here. Everyone says they have great internet when you’re checking into their hotel or contemplating eating at their restaurant, but when they give you the password, it either won’t connect or it connects but the signal is so slow that it takes like 5 minutes just to load a page. It also just goes on and off frequently. I’m really not sure why they can’t figure out Wi-Fi in India considering all of their tech savvy, business acumen, and improved infrastructure. Always a problem and I’ve learned to work fast and keep working whenever I do get a signal. I hate to harp on that, but I need it for work every day so it can be a torturous undertaking.

Some of the Indian hotels in the big cities are very expensive but really subpar, mostly inhabited by Indian businessmen. There’s no rhyme or reason to it, but when you go out to the nicer tourist areas, like by the beach, there are a lot nicer hotel options for a lot less money.

The countryside is beautiful. Once you get out of the cities and surrounding towns, the little backwater and forest villages are well worth checking out.

I saw something really shocking today. I was on the back of a motorbike on the way to the train station and we zipped through a countryside hamlet. As we passed, a skinny yellow dog – no bigger than a small mutt with ribs sticking out - took a running start and jumped right up on top of a 6-foot wall around a house, and then scrambled over. I’ve never seen a dog do that – it was so graceful it looked exactly like a cat might do, and his paws only touched the wall one time as made contact with the wall and vaulted over.

I know I’ve said it before, but the trains are madness. And the madness I’m witnessing is on the nicest upscale sleeper cars, not the 2nd class common passenger cars.

Joined in a beach cleanup the other day. I saw a poster for it and decided to help, because I love to volunteer wherever I go and trash containment is such a problem in a lot of developing countries (is India still considered developing?)

Shattering my stereotypes, there were a bunch of young Russian hippy backpackers running the clean up. I was assigned to a group with a really cool and really tall dude from Holland and a few others. I added the leader of the Russian volunteers on Facebook to keep in touch, and he proudly told me in broken English that he was called Jesus on social media, spelled Jeesoos.

We picked up all sorts of garbage on the beach for about an hour until our bags were full and our heads cooked from the sun. In all, the 12 volunteers gathered about 20 bags.

My group was assigned to the temple beach, which was the south end butting up against some rocky crags where a Hindu temple sat. So all sorts of Indian people came to the beach and worship and perform rituals. One of them was to honor their deceased relatives, so they’d make shrines on the beach of lit incense, coins, flower wreaths, and framed photos of their loved ones right by the rocks. So as we walked around picking up trash, we had to be careful not to collect things from these shrines or disturb them. It’s sort of eerie to see these sun and ocean faded portraits strewn about all over the beach.

At temple beach there are three huge burial mounds made from the sand (though no one is in them) with Indian religious men sitting on top of them, orange, white, and black ash on their foreheads, amidst smoking incense. People come and these old religious men bless them…for a fee.

In Varkala there are a lot of stores selling Tibetan crafts and you can tell a lot of the workers in town are Tibetan or Nepalese.

I’ve been eating vegetarian for two weeks now, save for prawns, fish, or squid a couple of times. With this abundance of amazing vegetable curries, I don’t miss meat one bit. In fact, I saw a dead plucked chicken today in a store and it really looked nasty.

The women dress absolutely beautifully in their sarongs, dresses, and traditional garb with bold colors and golden embroidery.

It’s so strange but there’s a ½ hour time difference to India: it’s 10 ½ hours ahead of New York. I’ve never heard of a ½ hour increment in time zones, but I guess Nepal has a 15-minute incremental difference!

Also, all of India is on the same time zone, though it’s huge.

So far, so good on the stomach front. I have suffered from “Delhi belly” at all, though I’ve been really careful what I eat and drink.

Good thing, because I’ve noticed hotels don’t provide toilet paper (I carry my own rolls anyway) though they sometimes provide soap. But don't count on it.

And there are very few public toilets in India, or toilets at all for that matter. I read something crazy like only 60% of Indians have access to indoor plumbing and there are far more cell phones than toilets in the country. Good times.

Speaking of toilets, there’s a real thing called “Flying Toilets” here. There are so few public toilets or even indoor bathroom facilities in poor homes, that a lot of common people just defecate into a plastic bag and then just throw it down a hill, into a vacant lot, or into an alley. So you actually have to be careful in some areas not to get hit with one of these flying toilets. The other day I saw a French lady who lives here chastising some teenage boys for throwing their flying toilets off a cliff by the sea.

They drive on the left side of the road here. Or, more accurately, they drive all over the friggin road including going the wrong way when a huge bus or truck is barreling our way, but they are supposed to drive on the left.

The bigger directional problem comes from people walking. For instance, we in the U.S. automatically also walk on the right and when someone is approaching, we move in that direction to let them pass. But Indians and some Europeans walk left with the same intention, and Russians just stand in the middle of it all blocking everyone’s way and not giving a rat’s ass.

There is only one ATM in the beach community of Varkala, the Catholic Syrian Bank.

They call checking accounts “current” on most ATM’s all over the world.

There are two great institutions in India: the railways, which employ 1.4 million workers (more than the population of a few small countries) and the postal system.

My typical breakfast, at The Juice Shack overlooking the beach, consists of fruit, shredded coconut, yogurt, and honey, and also an omelet. I also get a big water and good coffee. That all costs me about $4.75 on average.

A good number of people here walk barefoot all day every day, even on the city streets, too poor to even afford shoes. A begging man at the train station was limping around with bloody bandages around his feet, which were afflicted with some terrible swelling it looked like. I can’t imagine the pain and worse, the hopelessness he experiences.

There are loads of beggars in the main cities like Mumbai, but in the tourist areas I’ve been too there are very few people begging. Those who are usually are infirm and helpless old people, sitting folding onto themselves in a pile of rags and filth, under the hot sun all day hoping someone takes mercy on them. I can’t describe the look of gratitude, love, and warmth they radiate when I’ve given them just a dollar or two. 

The train cars have a food service called Meals on Wheels and they wear black polo shirts with the logo. That makes me laugh for some reason.

It’s interesting what I notice and how I feel after I went back to the U.S. for 6 months in between the traveling/living abroad life. This time, I want to document the daily minutiae of my life on the road more. So I’m going to try and take a photo of every single hotel room and place I stay in for the next 6 months.

At the train station, there was a room that was a waiting area only for ladies. I’m sure a place for women to have privacy, safety, and be able to care for their children or get a respite from public is greatly welcomed.

I like drinking milk tea in the afternoons. They serve it very hot in a little glass, and the glass is so hot, I don’t know how they pick it up. Or maybe I just need to toughen the F up a little.

Cheese Naan and butter Naan breads are so good its redunkulous. The vast majority of my meals consist of veggie curries and rice and Naan. 

Verkala was really beautiful and had a terrific vibe. I definitely want to go back one day and spend some more time. But it was a place to visit, not to live I think.  

I grabbed my camera and a water bottle and took a walk last Sunday afternoon, getting lost on purpose. I walked for about three hours and found myself on a path that wound up and down the sea cliffs and beaches following the coastline heading north. I passed palm groves, shady meadows with cows, small rivers leading to the sea, grassy parks, and secluded black sand beaches. It was one of the most beautiful settings I’ve ever witnessed, and I was truly in the moment. Everything was green and blue. The sunlight reached inside me. I felt perfectly grateful just to be there and breathing. If I have only those moments, it will make the whole trip worth it.

By now, many of you know the term “Chicken Bus” to describe the common form of bus transportation in developing countries. But it occurred to me: since many parts of India are widely vegetarian, should we change the name from “chicken” bus to a more plant-based moniker? Soy Bus? Nah. I rode the Tofu Bus? Too Whole-Foodsy. How about the Curry Bus? Yeah, I like that one.

Like you see in many developing countries, vendors will all sell the exact same thing even though they’re all lined up together. I always tell my friends abroad - whether they’re beggars, street merchants, shopkeepers, or bar owners – to do something to differentiate themselves. I made friends with a Nepalese family in Varlkala who ran a shop and I told them they should serve free hot tea samples or have cultural dance shows or something to bring the tourists in, but of course they just look at me and smile and say: “So Sir Norm, you want to buy something?”

By the way, children work right along with the adults 10-14 hours a day or longer.

I hate goodbyes, so when I leave a place I don’t make a round of sappy and prolonged adieus, I just ghost. It’s better that way.

There’s nothing much to do at night here – not even bars really – so you tend to get up and retire with the sun.

The few tourist restaurants that serve beers have to do so clandestinely, so they’ll sell you a liter bottle and then pour a bit into a coffee cup and hide the bottle under your table.

I’ve only had three beers I think in three weeks here. I had two small glasses of beer last night and I was buzzed! Hahaha. Then again, I’ve always been a lightweight.

I should read more but I’ve been watching a movie every night. I watched Bend it Like Beckham, Slum Dog Millionaire, and Million Dollar Arm while in India. Does that make me a racist? Or just a cultural retard?

You take off your shoes before you enter any shop, home, or religious site. It would be extremely rude and disrespectful to do otherwise. 

I’m frequenting the class of accommodations that involves a hard wood cot with a thin foam “mattress,” one rock hard pillow, and sheets with blood on them from previous residents’ battles with mosquitos. The rooms have a ceiling fan and a dingy bathroom with a bucket. This costs me an average of $8 a night, even by the beach. The next level up is around $18-$24 a night and may include a TV, an air conditioner you’re not allowed to use unless you pay an extra $10 or so, maybe a desk, and a balcony or bigger windows on the second or third floor.

Bathrooms have a drain in the floor so there are no shower pans in most countries. The shower falls right into the room and then the floor just drains. Good system, actually.

I bought a mango ice cream the other day and walked about ten steps with it when a little poor Indian kid asked me if I’d buy him ice cream, so I just handed it to him without getting even a bite and walked on. Haha

They love cricket here, as well as field hockey, and football (soccer) the #3 sport. They play cricket on the beach every morning.

 Anywhere you go in the world, poor and common people visiting from the city go into the ocean in their clothes. Same here. Men go in with their jeans rolled up and no shirts, and women go in in their dresses or traditional sarongs with leggings or jeans on underneath.

There is nothing better than watching the joy of these people as they play in the ocean. They wade out in groups, laughing, pushing each other, holding hands in a group, and collectively yelling like they were on a roller coaster at every new wave that crashes into them. They do this for hours. It's purely golden. have seen no greater pure joy. When I close my eyes I can still hear their laughter over the windy sway of the waves.

-Norm  :-)

Most people see large businesses as faceless corporations. They're entities that do nothing more than take people's money in the exchange of goods, simply to fatten the pockets of the big guy in charge. For the customers, there's no personal connection, and the entire transaction process comes down to mere dollars and cents...

While that's undoubtably the case for some, if not the majority of companies, there are the rare few that uphold the honorable values established before the company made it big. Interestingly enough, it's happening from the most unlikely of sources. 

Alcoa
The majority of us have probably never heard of the New York-based company that specializes in lightweight metals engineering and manufacturing, but they're worth knowing. Unlike companies such as Walmart that give large monetary values that are a very small percentage of their overall profits, Alcoa's donations make a serious dent in their revenue. According to Forbes the company earned $14.06 billion in 2013 and donated 12.1 percent of their total revenue. It made them the most generous US company in 2013.

Through partnerships with outside organizations and their own Alcoa Foundation, the money donated from the company goes towards advancing sustainability research, environmental education and protection, and various other social efforts. Since 1952, they have donated more than $590 million to "improve the environment and educate tomorrow's leaders."

Adam and Eve
It turns out that one company selling those taboo toys is in fact, not ruining society. Instead, they're actually working really hard to make it better.

At Adam and Eve, a whopping 20 percent of their net profits benefit charitable organizations and community outreach. Staying true their roots, one of the biggest social movements they support is improving sexual education and health on a local and international level. Through their involvement with organizations such as DKT International, they're able to supply sexual education and critical resources like contraception to over 20 countries. The goal is to "improve overall family health, lower infant and maternal mortality and improve prosperity

The Green Bay Packers
Unless you were born a Packers fan (or dared questioned the integrity of the franchise to a hardcore Cheesehead), you may not know that the franchise operates as a non-profit. Instead of having one owner, the franchise has a 112,000. As The New Yorker explains, the organization has remained the only fan-owned operation since the 1920s. However, instead of each fan receiving a chunk of the franchise profits, proceeds are either reinvested in the team or distributed to charitable organizations. Through the Green Bay Packers Foundation, the team has successfully donated more than $4.8 million for charitable purposes since its establishment in 1986.

New Yorker writer Dave Zirin said that Green Bay serves as a "frightening example that pro sports can aid our cities in tough economic times, not drain them of scarce public resources."

We've been programmed to be cynical about the intentions of larger corporations over the years. However, it's refreshing to know that occasionally you can find those still trying to use their success for good, even when it goes unnoticed. 

***

 Written by: Brenda Hall

1. The air quality is so bad in the mega city of Mumbai in India that just one day outdoors is the equivalent of smoking 100 cigarettes.

2. India has far more cell phones than toilets.

3. Sex toys are still illegal in India.

4. The world's largest family unit – a man and his 39 wives and 94 children – live together in India.

5.    In one state in India, police officers are given a pay upgrade if they have moustaches. 

6.    The highest temperature ever recorded in India was 123.1 °F in Alwar, Rajasthan, while the lowest was -49 °F in Dras, Ladakh. 

12. An Indian man claims he hasn't had anything to eat or drink in 70 years. No one has seen him do either and after running many tests doctors still can’t disprove him or figure out how it’s possible.

13. The stats about roadway fatalities in India are even more grim: 37% of all road deaths are pedestrians who were hit, 28% cyclists and motorcyclists, and 55% of all deaths occur within five minutes of the accident.

14. There’s a village in India, called Shani Shingnapur, where no houses or structures have doors and nothing is locked up. Even shops are left wide open and nothing of value is kept secured. However, there has never been a reported theft in the history of the village, and they believe they’re protected by God.

15. India actually developed a rocket and launched it into outer space. So how did the Indian Space Research Organization (ISRO) transport the rocket to the launch site? With a series of bicycles. 

16. Call it K9 karma, because in an act of atonement, an Indian man recently got married to a dog.

17. At least 50% of the outsourced IT services in the world come from India. 

18. They wear white at funerals in India instead of black, most common in other countries.

19. India has a national obsession with breaking records. According to the Guinness Book of World Records, India ranks third behind the USA and the UK in the number of records claimed each year, though they have many other record books they fill up.

20. Cherrapunji in India is the wettest spot on earth, receiving 425 inches of rain every year, more than 5 times as much as the tropical rain forests in South America.

21. Some of the recent world records include the largest gathering of people (891) dressed like Mahatma Gandhi, the longest garland made of cakes of cattle dung (2 km), the longest time performing yoga on horseback (10 hours), a man who typed 103 words in 47 seconds with his nose, and the record for lighting electric bulbs by passing a wire through the nose and out of the mouth: 30 sixty-watt bulbs.
 
22. The largest current slave population in the world resides in India, with over 14 million people forced to work for no wages or against their will every day.

23. The city of Mumbai is so overpopulated and congested, that the government set out to solve the problem by building a second, parallel city right next to it. Navi Mumbai was developed in 1972 and remains the largest planned township in the history of the world.

24. One Indian family has 31 doctors in in it. Known as “the doctor family”, they have 7 physicians, 5 gynecologists, 3 ophthalmologists, 3 ENT specialists, psychiatrists, pathologists, neurologists, an orthopedist and one urologist.

31. In a part of India called West Bengal, cows are required to have their own photo ID cards.

32. It's illegal to carry Indian currency (Rupees) out of the country.

33. The Kumbh Mela Festival is the world's biggest gathering, with over 100 million people in attendance every time it commences.

34. The typical person in India would have to work at least 6 hours just to buy a McDonalds Big Mac.

35. India is home to the most languages in the world. The 1961 census of India documented 1,652 languages in use in the country at that time.

36. There are more than one million Indian millionaires, behind only the U.S., Japan, and about tied with China.

41. Legend has it that the famous Levitating Stone of Qamar Ali Darvesh in Shivapur, India can be lifted with only 11 fingertips if you shout the name “Qamar Ali Darvesh!” as you lift. By the way, the stone weighs 200 kg.

42. India was the only place on earth diamonds were officially found until 1986, when they were discovered in Africa and several other countries. 

43. Despite it’s huge landmass, all of India is in one time zone. But it does differ from a ½ hour from neighboring countries and international time standards, making things complicated. So when it’s 6:30pm in India it’s 8am in New York.

44. Complicated surgeries and operations were performed over 2,600 years ago in India.

45. A village in northern India is called Snapdeal.com Nagar. The village, previously named Shiv Nagar, officially changed its name to Snapdeal.com Nagar in exchange for the e-commerce website installing 15 hand water pumps for the villagers.

46. The Kodinhi village in the southern state of Kerala is known internationally as “Twin Town” because it produces such an alarming rate of twins.

47. We know that Indian people love animals, but taking it one step further, there’s an elephant spa, the Punnathoor Cotta Elephant Yard Rejuvenation Centre in Kerala, where the majestic animals receive the royal treatment.

48. The Indian prime minister elect, Narendra Modi, went to the U.S. to take a three-month course on public relations and image management. It must have worked, because he was one of the most popular Indian leaders in memory.

49. An elaborate wedding in Bengaluru was called off when the bride’s family served the groom’s family chicken biryani instead of mutton biryani. Although biryani is the typical wedding dish, the lack of the correct meat source was seen as an offensive slight that led to a big fight, and the cancellation of the nuptials.

50. Since so many Indians speak English as their second language, India now has the most English speakers in the world, ahead of even the U.S. or the U.K. 

I had a train ticket heading south to Varkala, a 5-hour train ride along the Arabian Sea to the southern tip of India. I was told there were two train stations to depart Fort Cochi, where I’d stayed for a week. To go south by train, I had to go to the north station, and apparently the southern station only went north.

After some haggling with the guesthouse proprietor in Cochi (who tried to overcharge me but insisted I leave a 100% positive review on Tripadvisor) I got my bags and jumped on a tuk tuk to the train station. Although it was only 20 km to the station, it took us an hour, the driver winding down so many back streets and alleyways that I thought it must be impossible for him to actually be on route. But somehow he got us there.

The train station was beyond chaotic and I had no idea where my train was, but I managed to ask one person and have them point me in the general correct direction, allowing me to walk ten feet and then ask someone else. By this method I inched my way toward my train. On the platform I noticed a couple fellow travelers – a nice young British couple that were asking about the train to Varkala, too. So I took them under my wing and told them which train was ours. Amateurs! Even though we had seat assignments, it was impossible to decipher their system so we boarded a random car toward the front because that’s where the pointing system led us.

It was quickly confirmed that we were on the wrong car, a sleeper car. It was less quickly confirmed that I was on the wrong train, and mine was leaving 20 minutes later. Amateur!

Our train car was ridiculously narrow and instead of seats they just had double padded benches bolted to the wall like bunk beds. Some people laid on these benches and slept. On others, there were whole families crowded in. Blankets and pillows were strewn on the metallic floor. There was no rhyme or reason to the seating, and when someone got up, someone else would take their bench – and their blanket. Children ran around and played and looked for their parents, who relocated when displaced without bothering to notify them.

I was surprised that our car had air conditioning. In India, it seems all amenities for tourists are separated into AC and non-AC options. Electricity must be pretty costly, because the AC rooms are almost double the price. Of course I make a go of it with just a ceiling fan in non-AC rooms, which wouldn’t be so bad if you could open all the windows and let the breeze in, but you have to seal the room like a tomb after dark so you won’t be ravaged by the mosquitos. Everything in India is separated into AC or non-AC and also vegetarian or non-veg.

The Britts and I shared a bench and got along swimmingly – they were EMTs from southern England taking a two-week holiday in India. We talked about travel and books and shared the cashews and crackers we’d brought. It looked like it was going to be a pleasant trip.

A short man in a navy coat and red tie came through and checked our tickets. He was a mousy fella, with a clipboard and a mustache that struck fear into the hearts of men. As I’ve mentioned before, they love bureaucracy in India. Something about crushing the soul of a fellow human being is intoxicating to them. He checked my ticket, too, and when he saw that I was on the wrong train he grew irritated.

“No, no, NO! You get off next station and wait for your train.”

“Are you going to slow down at least or should I just jump?” I asked him. He was not amused.  He told me the next stop was in about 40 minutes and ordered me to de-board there.

“Are you serious dude? Can’t I just stay on this one? What’s the difference?” Yes, he was serious, and no, he did not like being called “dude”; I could tell by the way his mustache quivered like flags on a battlefield. “Or can’t I just pay you extra to stay on this train?”

This got the little mouse-man’s attention. For those of you playing along at home, this is called “a bribe” and it’s the only way shit gets done in 90% of the world. He looked at my ticket again and scribbled furiously on his clipboard, then presented a number: 900 Rupees. Of course that was a ridiculous sum, as I had only paid 460 Rupees (about $7.50) for my original train ticket. But the insignificant man had the upper hand and he knew it, so I surrendered by waving my white ticket.

I collected my things and waited by the train door, which are all wide open as the train rattles through the jungle just in case anyone wants to accidentally fall out or not-so-accidentally push a loved one out or even jump to their death because they’re having a bad day, all of which would free up a seat.

As I waited, I chatted with some nice men who went in and out of the train’s only bathroom. When the door was ajar I saw it was just a hole in the ground with a bucket of water.

“Go now if you have to,” the men told me. “Because you shouldn’t go when the train is standing still at the station.”  Apparently, the bathroom hole led right down to the ground.

The next stop came up in 20 minutes. 

“Yes, but it is a local stop, not your stop,” the nice Indian men told me. “You want the next next stop to wait for your train.”

But there was something blocking the track a ways ahead so we ended up having to wait. Everyone got off our car and milled on the platform. There was nothing but jungle and people and a Christian college with yellow walls watching from the top of a hill, like a man in a big hat looking down disapprovingly. 

As we waited, the other cars spilled open and their passengers streamed out like ants from a rotten mango. I saw there were sleeper cards, 1st class cars, and finally 2nd class cars for the commoners, and these were mostly men wearing only the traditional wrap-around loincloths. They were decorated with colorful paint on their foreheads and wreaths of flowers. They wore no shoes and carried everything they owned in bundles on their heads. Someone told me there was a big religious ceremony being held at a temple in the south, so they were all holy men on a pilgrimage. They all had beards that grew sideways and the warmest smiling eyes. Everywhere they walked, yellow, pink, and white flower pedals were scattered on the ground.

It was hot on the track so we pressed into the train’s shade. The jovial men from my car surrounded me and asked me questions where I’m from and where I’m going. They wanted to take photos with me but the didn’t have cameras so they asked for my phone and snapped photos of us with my camera, though I still don’t understand how that benefits them. They laughed that I sweated. I told them my dilemma with the wrong train and the hostile ticket checker and they just brushed it off and said, “Don’t worry. You don’t have to get off.” One official in a pressed white shirt emerged from the crowd and checked my ticket and confirmed I could stay.

There was no announcement when we were ready to go, the train just started moving. The ants sprinted and pushed and jumped to get back into the mango. I was the last one on the track and the doorway was filled with standing men, so I had to jump, too, and hang on for dear life on the outside and hope I didn’t get hit by a tree or a sign until the aisle cleared and I could climb inside.

I settled into the sleeper car with my British friends and we started watching a bad kung fu movie on my laptop. Genghis Kahn soon came around and look horrified that I was still on his train. I told him that it was ok because the other official in the white shirt told me I could stay. He informed me there is no other official, and now I really needed to get off the train at the next stop. He said it would be about an hour.

In twenty minutes the train stopped at a station and the little terrible man came around and yelled at me to get off immediately. I tried to collect my things and pack up my computer quickly, but I was in a panic. Nuts went flying everywhere. They were just cashews, luckily – not my own. The train started moving again and the terrible man yelled at me and I leapt off without saying a proper goodbye to my British friends.

After a long wait in the sun, the next train did come. I got on the wrong train car again but this time people were nice. It was almost full but someone moved their backpack so I had an open seat and it even reclined. The rest of the 3-½ hour trip was pleasant, as I took out my laptop again and watched the kung fu flick with a little Indian boy and his dad looking on. I ate my lunch – crackers and Coke, which I always travel with because they help with motion sickness. There were vendors carrying all sorts of moms and masalas, dals and paneers, and chai, coffee and tea, selling them up and down the aisle so everyone could eat. It was nice. 

By the time we arrived in Varkala at dusk, the little boy was fast asleep and had to be carried out by his dad. Outside the station, I got in a 1950s Indian Ambassador model taxi that drove me to a homestay with peeling paint called the Green House near the sea cliffs. It was a bumpy, dusty ride but I didn’t mind: with the window rolled down, the air smelled clean and I could hear the ocean crashing below.  And at least he came to a full stop for me to get out.

Probably the longest travel day(s) I’ve ever had, but it was actually semi-fun. Shuttle to JFK in New York at 2pm = 2.5 hrs., 2.5 hr. wait, 7 + hrs. to Heathrow in London, 3 hr. wait, 9 hrs. to Mumbai, arrived 12:30 am local time and waited 3hrs for luggage and immigration, then 1 hr. drive to the hotel. Total time = about 28 hrs.+

Virgin Atlantic is awesome. The plan from London to Mumbai, India was one of the nicest I’ve ever been on.

If you can’t afford business class (and I can’t, and wouldn’t even if I could) then ask about upgraded coach seating. I didn’t even know about this, but a lot of airlines have expanded coach service with bigger seats, more legroom, and seats that tilt back a little further. That makes a huge difference getting comfortable on long flights. I paid Delta (the first leg to London) $60 and Virgin Atlantic $70 and had big spacious exit row seats and just watched movies and snoozed the whole time.

Mumbai is one of the craziest cities on earth. “Shit hole” doesn’t even begin to describe it. It’s insanely polluted, not at all cheap, and so densely populated that it’s hard to even get around. It took me 3 hours in traffic just to get to the city’s main “tourist attractions” of an old British Hotel and a big archway by the polluted port area. I couldn’t wait to get out of there, and grabbed an early morning flight south to Kerala my third day. My ranking of the worst cities in the world I’ve ever been now include 1) Mumbai, India, 2) Cairo, Egypt, 3) Caracas, Venezuela, 4) Manila, Philippines, and Reno, Nevada. 

So glad I escaped Mumbai after three days and flew SpiceAir down to Fort Kochi (or Cochi or Cochin) in Kerala. It’s a much more chill seaside port town. Still not a ton to do and see that’s too impressive, but it’s way more laid back than Mumbai (but so is Guantanamo) and you can walk the whole little town.

Go tanning at least once before coming from the middle of the winter in cold and sunless Connecticut to a tropical climate. My skin is so white and gross it’s scaring people.

The little white towels came along for the journey, which are lifesavers as I’ve started sweating morning, noon, and night again. It’s hot here but not out of control – probably low 90’s but humid – I’m just not used to it yet coming from the winter.

Time change is a bitch. I was so spun out between night and day that I couldn’t even keep track. My sleep patterns have been to take 2 hr. naps 3 times a day but no real night’s sleep. I was completely exhausted and shutting down around 4pm local time at first and it was hard to even to get motivated to go to dinner. Now, it’s better, though I do still wake up around 3 or 4 am.

“Yes, we have no internet,” is the same as “No, we don’t have internet.”

“Yes, we have internet,” might be the same thing as “I don’t know if we have internet,” or “We may have internet but it’s probably not working.” It also applies to air conditioning.

I’m so glad I loaded up my hard drive with movies before I left. But at this rate, I’ll probably watch them all within 3 weeks.

I’ve been in some really poor counties but never one where the discrepancy between rich and poor was greater.

In the west we think of India as one place, but this country has so many different people, cultures, races, religions, tribes, and national origins you could imagine. It’s an incredible melting pot.

A lot of places in India had their Colonia English names changed to new Indian names, like Bombay to Mumbai, etc. It makes it even confusing because maps, guidebooks, signs, airlines, and especially locals might use the old name, the new name, or a combined form of the two.

Here in Kochi, tuk tuk drivers don’t tell you how much a ride costs. They tell you to pay whatever you want or what makes you happy. They say that in other countries, too, but it’s just a ploy to get you to feel guilty and fork over more. But here they seem really not to care that much.

But they will beg you to stop at a shop and just look around for a minute. They get paid a liter of petrol whenever they bring someone to the shops, so they’d rather drive you around for free fuel all day then make much money.

So I’ve walked in and out of about 5 shops by now and know everything there is to know about Indian rugs and scarves (which are best in Kashmir.)

The food is ridiculously cheap. You can get “ripped off” at a tourist trap for $4 a meal or pay $2-3 at a decent restaurant for a full meal. 

My tuk tuk driver always takes me to local lunch spots where it’s all Indians. We sit family style at tables and they bring out a huge bowl of rice and numerous smaller dishes of curries, vegetables, and myriad sauces. Everyone eats with their fingers. 

I don’t get down like that yet – I ask for a spoon.

They don’t serve naan bread like at Indian restaurants in the states but these crispy fried shells. I thought they were nachos of course so started dipping them in the various sauces, to which they laughed at me.

I paid for the meal and it was 90 Rupees for rice, vegetable curry, a big bottled water, and tea with milk. That comes to $1.50 by the way. And that was $1.50 total for both of us.

Instead of big hotels, there are tons of homestays here, where people build out their nice homes and add on a bunch of rooms. It’s a really cool set up and they are everywhere. I found one a couple km from the center of town for 1,000 Rupees, or $17 a night.

Been pretty much going veggie – a few eggs and some shrimp and fish, but no red meat or pork and not much chicken either. With all of this great veggie food around me, I don’t miss it at all.

There really are cows walking around on the street, unmolested because they are sacred.

I tried to take a selfie with one of those  cow. It didn't work so well, and I found out the hard way that some of those bovines have horns.

Why the hell did I bother bringing cotton shirts? I forgot how fast you sweat them out.

I always thought Indian culture was a big boozing culture, but there are no proper bars in Fort Kochi and it’s almost a dry town. You can buy cheap beer at the “government store” or a few upscale restaurants. 

I’ve been told you can buy beer at certain local common restaurants, where it’s called “special tea,” but you have to put the bottle in a bag or keep it under the table. Drinking in public is a definitely no-no.

I thought yoga would be the big thing here but it seems meditation and India medicinal therapies called Ayurveda treatments are where it’s at.

They play cricket and football (soccer) in the parks early in the morning. 

They’re mesmerized by blue eyes here.

The little kids are really friendly and excited to say hi to a foreigner.

I was jump roping in a local park – the only place I could find with enough space to do so - and a crowd formed because they’ve never seen it before.

There are a lot of little annoying mosquitos here, the kind you don’t see but rip your ankles and feet up under the table and get you right on the elbow then you have big itchy welts. Little bastards.

The tuk tuk drivers all know America because of President Obama, who they like a lot. Obama is actually scheduled to come to India in late January, the first U.S. president ever to come here.


There must be some confusion because the tuk tuk drivers call me “Norm Obama.”

Fort Kochi has some really funky and creative street art. 

It does get confusing when your homestay is called Homestead so you have to tell tuk tuk drivers to take you to Homestead Homestay and they think you are just special so keep asking the name of your homestay over and over. 

Breakfast is included, and every morning they keep bringing out plates stacked with French toast until I demand they stop.

The wife of the homestay owner makes the breakfast. She accidentally broke my sunny side up egg when she was putting it on the plate and they wouldn’t serve it to me because it wasn’t perfect. Lol.

Why is it that the most seemingly modest and sexually conservative countries always have a billion and a half people? 


The Indian government has blocked about 32 websites because of ISIS threats, including Vimeo, Weebly, and others. I use Weebly for a few websites and it works fine – most of the time. 

Some women wear traditional Indian wrap around dresses like sarongs (I’ll learn the correct name soon) while a lot of Islamic women wear Burkas that cover all but their eyes. Serious question – do Muslim men ever mistakenly take the wrong wife home because they can’t see which one is theirs? I bet it’s happened!

They definitely love red tape and bureaucracy, and check my passport, inquire about my visa, and sign some official log book every chance they get.

This town has a big Hindu population, but also Muslims, Christians, and even a Jewish enclave, named Jew Town. Between the Muslim muezzin, Hindu chants, and Christian gospel songs, I can hear religious singing from my room at least 8 times a day, from 5 am until 7 at night. I like it.

Jumping on a train tomorrow, about 4 hours south to Varkala Beach on the Arabian Sea near the southern most tip of the country.

When we chat next week I’ll give you a full report.

Norm Obama –OUT!

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Happy travels!

Norm  :-)