I wake up every morning confused by my surroundings but with a smile on my face. I stick out like a big bald sore thumb over here. Everyone stares and the people that do approach me ask what happened to my hair and if I'm in the military. This has truly been the best choice I have made in my life thus far. Not just in the short term by traveling but thankful for the possibility of what my life could be by choosing my path and focusing on what matters. After Kathmandu I took a 9 hour bus ride west through Nepal to a town by the name of Pokhara. The bus was considered a "tourist bus" as it was a more comfortable ride. Imagine a living room of lazy boys bolted to the floor of a bus with a 42" tv hanging off the drivers door playing a continuous Bollywood movie. The roads are more similar to a roller coaster and sleep was difficult but an amazing ride through the country. As I arrived in Pokhara I made my way through town to the hostel and it was very very different from Kathmandu. Very laid back and felt a bit like how you imagine a mountain lake town in Nepal should feel like. Little shops selling souvenirs, food, and renting recreation equipment line the Main Street stretching two miles along the shore. I met a few folks who were in a similar boat and looking for a place to relax after EBC while others who were starting treks in the Annapurna mountain range. Good vibes all the way around with good people from all over the world. It became clear this was a destination which was sought after as it took effort to get here. People don't just wonder into Pokhara, it's too remote. When I arrived I didn't know what to expect and figured I would only stay a few days before moving on. It's a sleepy mountain town, not a ton to do, but after a day I was really enjoying it and stopped investigating anywhere else to go. I spent my time reading by the lake and people watching. One thing I've noticed is that books are dope. I think I've read more books in this past month than in the last 15 years of my life. It's like Netflix but I don't feel a rush of self hate and regret after bingeing for 5 hours. Also, my Kindle never asks me "Are you still there?" while it's programming judges me for my life choices. It's been wonderful being able to unplug from the noise of normal life and focus on what actually interests me. Not just filling my head and time with advertisements offering a temporary escape from the 9-5 grind. I expected meeting people everyday to be a lot more exhausting than it has been. Which is a relief. Small talk is different in a hostel or a travelers bar. If you don't look like the locals it's a pretty good chance you're a traveler and already share common ground. There does seem to be three distinct subgroups of travelers I've met so far. The first is the holiday traveler, someone who has a finite amount of time in the country and looking to make the best of it. These guys have a lot of energy and is historically how I have only known how to travel. Always on the move and checking off the predetermined itinerary. Success of the trip is a metric based on this itinerary. The second is the trekking traveler, someone who has a goal usually outdoor related in region but can also include hitchhiking. These people have a route or plan that they need to stick to in order to accomplish the goal within the allotted time. Success is completion. The third is your stereotypical backpacker but I would like to divide this into two subsets. The first subset being the gap year backpacker and the second being the Chicxlub backpacker. First, the gap year backpacker: taking a year long journey before or after college/university. Some of these kids are incredibly impressive. Very mature and well spoken about their goals and plans for the future. Others got a black check from their parents and are going wild. Second, the Chicxulub backpacker: this person is usually older (term is relative just not gap year aged) who seemingly had it all when something colossal happened and now they have made the choice to leave “home” and reflect. I currently relate most closely to this last group. When you meet someone in this group, you know they have a moment in their story that struck them so hard it changed the course of their lives forever. Or the event struck them and now their course has been corrected. Now don't get me wrong, these hostels are not a therapy retreat but there is always a reason why they are there and through conversation and trust, the truth is shared. Very painful events of love and loss through divorce, death, incarceration and abuse leave these people with the emotional scars that shaped them in this moment. Seeking some happiness and and return to a new “normal” a new way to proceed forward with life. To stack rank how “bad” or “not so bad” someone else's experience is in comparison is foolish and illogical. Everyone was hurt in one way shape or form and it's their weight to carry, but talking about it seems to help lighten the load. In finding the attractions of Pokhara I was disappointed to find out I was a bit early for fishing season but did meet an old Frenchman named Charlie who's been in Pokhara for 42 years. He set up a rafting, kayaking, and fishing business after he came and decided he didn't want to leave. I went rafting with his company one morning and saw him often on my morning runs. Always happy to lend a hand and his stoop for some great people watching. When I said I sat by the lake and read that's literally all I did. I also napped in a hammock and ate ice cream and momo. I got up early went for a run through town and around the lake and took my time meeting and talking to the shop owners on my way back. I used this time to gather knowledge about prices and gauge how badly I've been ripped off thus far. I'd grade myself as a C+: not horrible, but leaves room for improvement. Prices require quick math skills to utilize currency conversions and negotiation price points. I've been struggling with dollars and cents vs percentage discount. If I over paid for something by 30% in the states I wouldn't have slept for a week. Here, 30% uptick could equate to 60 rupees or $.60. 60 rupees is a lot of markup when the true purchase price is 200 rupees but in reality, $.60 isn't going to break me and it's going to go a hell of a lot further for that guy than me. I took my knowledge acquired from the shops and priced out a paragliding trip for myself. Seemed like an excellent activity and I always enjoyed skydiving. Part way through the haggling and negotiation of the paragliding I had a moment when I realized, I never want to fucking haggle with a guy who's strapped to my back controlling the parachute that's supposed to being both is us safely to the ground. I didn't go cheapest on this one and it went exactly as planned. Beautiful views and such a nice relaxing ride while using the thermals to soar over the town. Glad I did it but I don't think I'll need to spend the money to do it again. I have budgeted for certain amount of activities like this, they are a nice treat but not for everyday. On one of my morning runs I was thinking about thanksgiving and how I would celebrate, if at all. Not that I wanted to forget thanksgiving was occurring but I'm in Nepal and the closest thing to a turkey I've seen would have been a peacock. Noone was butchering peacock as far as I saw. I don't think I've ever missed turkey before except for a WaWa turkey shorty(shortie.) This year was different, knowing that turkey wasn't guaranteed, I wanted it even more, I felt like I truly would be missing out. To make things a little stranger, I was the only American in town that I met or heard of existing. I started to look at nice restaurants that might be able to work as a treat to myself in celebration. Something strange happened and caught my eye as I headed back, it was just a telephone pole covered in colorful posters but I looked just at the right moment and took it as a sign. There was literally a sign advertising what I later learned was the first “American Thanksgiving Buffet Dinner” in Pokhara, maybe the country, I wasn't able to confirm. Perfect! I was ecstatic and promptly emailed them to reserve me a seat for one. Thanksgiving morning I wake up and thrilled to have thanksgiving lined up but was managing my expectations. I arrive at the restaurant and I am the first one there. Maybe 5 tables set and no food yet. I look around a bit and am excitedly greeted by a man named Surya. “Hello, Joe so nice to meet you!”, mind you I haven't introduced myself yet. Taken back, I ask him how he was so confident it was me. Turns out I'm the only one who emailed before and reserved coming. I take a seat and grab a beer as the dinner is on Nepali time and isn't anywhere close time to start. Some other folks filter in and we have people at four or the tables totaling just under 10 people. A nice couple takes interest in me sitting alone and asks my story. Turns out they have a daughter who lives in Colorado and wanted to share the experience with her while half a world away. They are a retired couple from Australia who came to work in the hospitals 18 years ago and fell in love with it. They now split time between home, their children, and their Nepal life. They told me stories of the challenges in choosing this way of life. Removing their primary and high school aged children from their lives and putting them a world away from home and hours away in Kathmandu for education. The fuel, electricity, and water shortages driven by corporate and political greed which made life so hard for them, their children, their patients, and their neighbors; impacting them up until two years ago. Also adding in the devastation and impacts of the earthquake, landslides, and other natural disasters that are seen as punishment from the gods by the Nepali people. Their children are grown and have families of their own. They tell me about how even though it's been a tough go, it was so worth it. They beam as they tell me about how their children have grownup to “see people as people” something you can tell they are so proud. While their children live in some of the furthers parts of the world they know they did it correctly as they have are continue to experience life and what the world has to offer. They spend their days making guitars now using all locally sourced and sustainable materials native to Nepal. They use their workshop as an environment of learning, teaching young people how to master word working and create beautiful instruments. (Maurice Paul guitars - if anyone is interested.). This is a new avenue to empower these young people. To give them skills and think about what could be possible for the lives. I also met someone who was volunteering at a school deeper in the countryside . She was teaching music and art to kids who have never experienced either in a classroom setting. Making conversation and citing she had been in Nepal longer, I asked, “why are all the trucks so colorful? Their are so bright painted with symbols and heart tail lights. It's such a contrast to the trucks in the US as they are so ‘masculine’”. She told me about conversations she would have with the students about their futures. You could tell she cared deeply for these kids and the answers broke her heart. When asked what the boys wanted to be when they grew up - with any in the world possible, everyone wanted to be a truck driver. Citing loud music and driving fast as the main reasons. This sounds like a fine answer for some young boys; driving fast is sick and music should be listened to loud. Also, I'm not saying there is anything wrong with truck driving as a profession in any country and she certainly wasn't either. But what struck her was when pressed what else they wanted to be, what else in the entire universe they wanted to be, they couldn't name a single thing. It's all they knew and it was all they thought was ever possible in their lives and in their world. Granted I've never asked a kid in the states from any socioeconomic class what they wanted to be when they grew up but I'd image even the poorest communities some would say some sort of sports star or something famous. But that doesn't exist for these folks out here, this is all they know. I found that sad and she did too but she exposed them to new material they would have never had an opportunity to experience ever before in their lives. In turn that knowledge expanded their universe of possibilities, even if it was short lived. I'm not sure you can measure that, but I think it's impactful. These little towns are great in my opinion. Lots of locals who live there, the backpackers that will be gone in a few days, and a few backpackers who knows end up making it their new home. The influence from everyone is everywhere from the food, establishments, infrastructure, and art that adorns the ally walls. It's so interesting to see expats creating new businesses and industries in these towns. My favorite was a place called The Movie Garden. You followed a narrow dirt path up a hill on the edge of the town. It's snaked past Nepali homes and behind restaurants that line the street. Eventually after tripping a few times, hiding within the canopy of trees and brush is a full 25’ movie screen. It displayed a projected image of the moon from the smashing pumpkins music video for their song Tonight. Built into the hill side are rock shaped ledges full of movie goers waiting for The Big Lebowski to start. The bar is serving popcorn and White Russians. While I don't think there was a finite number of tickets for the showing, the house was at capacity. I didn't meet the owner but you could just tell this was their baby. The quality of the design, sound, picture, and refreshments was apparent. I won't say no expense was spared but the feeling and quality of the craftsmanship wasn't able to be purchased and that made it that much more special. The owners soul was in this place and welcomed everyone with open arms. It was a lovely place and certainly inspires commitment to excellence for no one but yourself. Some people I meet don't share my same opinion of enjoying the blending of cultures. They prefer the locals to be kept as “authentic” - as not to be influenced by western culture or economic growth. I can't take these people seriously. To my knowledge these people don't posses an invisibility cloak to hide from said locals. You are not “Holier Than Thou” or entitled to experience any of this anymore or less than anyone else. (This is assuming respect is given to any person, local and fellow travelers alike. If the respect is missing, I'm not sure you should be out here in the first place). The western world has influence everywhere and to expect or hope people to live in a way that meets your definition of “real” for your amusement is absurd. The world isn't here for your hunt of wild natives for likes on instagram. While the USA was built on the pursuit of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness; I believe, these principles connect all man regardless of what economic, religious, or nationality is in their blood. After about a week in Pokhara it was my time to go. I've never had the opportunity to just choose to stay in a place longer than I planned and it was spectacular. It was my choice and I did what I wanted. When the week was over I got a little restless but that was good to experience too. It was time for India and with 30 hours of travel a head of me I was ready to get going. This was also the last of my previously booked travel. After this plane ticket I literally have nothing planned. A jump into the great unknown. I have a “plan” but without any action, it's just an idea. The world is my oyster, it's liberating and terrifying. Where will I sleep? What will I eat? and where do you go when you can go anywhere in the world right now? I've had these thoughts leading up but now it's my reality. I kill a bunch of time in Kathmandu sitting on the sidewalk eating Coconut Crunchies and drinking mango juice before my flight to New Delhi. The flight is relatively uneventful, just late, which is to be expected. Food comes on every flight out here. 2.5 hour flight I had a full meal, the flight attendants were wrestling trays away from hungry passengers in order to safely stow the items before landing. I had an overnight layover before my flight to Goa and booked a hostel on the outskirts of town and closer to the airport. Another 2 hour rush hour drive to the hostel is to be expected at this point. In my opinion after seeing both, Kathmandu traffic is crazier than New Delhi. New Delhi has more vehicles on the road but their roads are paved and while the drivers might not follow them, there are traffic lights. Turns out I was staying at a locals hostel. Domestic Indian tourism is a huge initiative for the government and investment is plentiful for young entrepreneurs looking to facilitate accommodation for the new and growing youth middle class who enjoy to travel. I sit in on some sort of community meeting for young people looking to connect and organize group trips. Very interesting to watch as well as very welcoming. It's also very apparent they are scrappy and just trying to figure it out. At about 1:30am a phone belonging to a guy staying the same room starts to go off. I can only describe this song as the Indian “Who let the dogs out”. It scared me awake and kept me up because he never stopped it. It was so loud. I walk over to him and shake him awake, he had his arms crossed behind his head and I honestly thought he was messing with me and just listening to it. I take off early in the morning for the airport and the front desk of the hostel calls me an uber. 250 rupees to get to the airport, 600 rupees to get from the airport- damn lesson learned. A buzzing noise starts blaring as we are on our way. The driver says something to the effect of “this will only take a min we have plenty of time”. We pull into a walled corral of some sort of fill station and we are easily 15 cars back. One min my ass. To my surprise the line moves quicker than imagined with help of my driver laying on the most used part of any Indian car - the horn. We are literally bumper to bumper and we can see cars in the process of filling but we persist. Eventually we get to the front and he motions for me to get out of the car. Confused I exit and they pop the hood. They attach what looked like a pneumatic hose to a nozzle on what looked like the radiator and a compressor sounded. I ask the guy what we are doing and through pointing and buzz words he explains this is not a gasoline car but runs on CNG and we are at a CNG filling station. I've never heard of such a fuel but it's a quick painless process. Except I guess for the first guy who prompted the process of exiting the vehicle before filling commences. My driver is very proud to tell me “no pollution car” “no gasoline!”. There is a line of cars from small ford sedans (what we had and was most common), to larger vans, and light weight pick ups. About 3 mins start to finish and 300 rupees ($1 : ~64 rupees) later we are ready to drive again with a range of 200kms. I thought the rest of the drive about the fuel and how difficult it would be to implement such a system in the US. I don't think they were gasoline stations retrofitted to CNG. I am under the impression these were new construction specifically for this fueling process. I wonder how closely the fuel and auto manufacturers collaborate to take on such a project. I get on my flight to Goa via New Delhi and another flight with nothing out of the ordinary. The only thing that sticks out is the number of domestic Indian tourists who seem that it is their first time flying. Goa is on the south west side of the county and is a beach town. While I didn't expect the plane to be entirely western I did expect more based on its international reputation. I guess the governments projects are working. When I booked this ticket to Goa my thought process revolved around relaxing on a beach after the Everest hike. I googled Indian beach and found my new destination. I don't think I know anyone from the states who's been there. After speaking to some folks I came to find out the reason for its international interest is its focus on psy-trance techno music brought there by the bunch of a hippies who made communes and had raves in the 90s. Sick. Not starting exactly as relaxing as I imagined. I land at the airport and with some research from a fixed taxi stand know how much an A/C car should cost to my hostel. It's in the mid 90s and the warmest I've been in months. Armed with my new information I was committed to getting a fair price. I get outside and the first guy said a price about 35% less than I targeted, score! I start to follow him and he makes a motion with his arm as we speak but I don't pay much attention to it. We walk to a car park close by and behind a small white building he pulls out a 125cc motorbike. We are at least an hour and a half from the hostel and I have my large backpack and my day pack ~45lbs total. A lot of weight to have on my back as a passenger with Indian driving. He said “no no no, no problem”. I've come to learn that “no problem” is my least favorite saying so far in the trip. I can anticipate something strange about the experience following every time. See, the other person and I don't quite see eye to eye with but they are committed to making it work. Mind you this is a plain ole run of the mill motorbike, a Suzuki Pulsar I believe, very popular here and they do amazing feats with these stock bikes. I ask “what are we gonna do about this?” motioning to my large backpack full of literally everything I own at this point in my life. Without saying anything further he hops on and straddles the bike and motions a “give it here” with his arms. He lays the bag down on his tank, covering his gauges and in between the grips of the handle bars. With the bottom of the bag resting on his lap he motions a “hop on” and like that I hop on and grab hold of the motorbike equivalent of the “oh shit handle”. We cruise again with no issues and I think the breeze was better than the A/C option. The hostel was very nice, certainly the largest in the area and arguably the first of India. I don't see many people at the hostel and decide to relax and grab some food. I walk to a close bar and have a seat. I eat some garlic cheese naan. It's maybe one of my favorite foods I've ever had. It's like garlic bread and a quesadilla had a baby. I get talking to a couple from London and we discuss the scene of Goa. They are familiar with the area and the sights and sounds. They extend an invitation to go with them to the legendary Hill Top for a Sunday afternoon rave. I accept and off we go down an overgrown road. - If you've never listened to Psy-Trance take a moment to YouTube it to set the scene. - We walk through what feels like an abandoned part of town until we hear in the distance, on the hill, the unmistakable thumping of bassy speakers. We arrive and man it was weird. You walk up to the ticket counter like a carnival. There we proceed to enter the “lobby” mind you it's all outside but fenced off. In this lobby old Indian women are cooking omelettes for the ravers and selling ice cream. It's before sunset and still bright out but the people here know why they are here. It is just bananas, people from all over the world bouncing around to the sounds that I can only describe as video game music when you reach the main boss on a hard level. People watching is great and there are certainly some characters. Indians and foreigners alike are into it and not holding back. One DJ brought out a mic’d up didgeridoo to sample live over his set. It was live didgeridoo performance weird and I enjoyed every moment. Since it was such a spontaneous situation I didn't bring much cash with me as I was planning on relaxing. My new friends we so generous made sure I was take care of with some walk around money. We met up the following day at the same place to head to the beach and for me to pay them back. We spend the day relaxing at the beach eating Chicken Tikka and drinking King Fishers. ''Twas a wonderful recovery day. I really enjoyed their company but they were leaving in the morning and such as life, it was the end. Strange that by a series of small seemingly insignificant decisions led to me meeting some great people, and we got along so well we spend days together. It's really just a change in your perception, tuning into a new environment and being open to what could be provided. I believe it could be listed as intuition and it's certainly a feeling. What seat to take, when to leave, or how to present your body language an have a huge impact in your day or life. I'm convinced awesome people exist everywhere I've lived previously on the same routes I took for years but never met any of them. I wonder who could have been there if I had. Is it a mindset that allows you to engage others more openly or an acceptance that the universe could be conspiring to present you with a gift? As I walked the streets of Goa I couldn't help but laugh at all that was occurring around me. - I'm not trying to preach as I know I'm guilty of what I'm about to just say but putting it in writing, on a public forum, as this is something I'm working on. - We are so focused or tuned into what that believe to be the most important thing in their lives. Nothing else matters and everything is in tune with that fixation whether it's correct or not. I'll speak from personal experience, but my world would become so small when I would get overwhelmed with life's checklist that I wasn't able to allow any other stimuli in because it was already on overdrive. Constant frustration stressing over repetitive meaningless tasks in exchange for my time. The fear of what could happen in the worst case scenario on repeat within my thoughts creating the narrative of my life. Blaming everything else and while I thinking that I was accepting the responsibility, never fully grasping that the hell I would put myself through was my own creation, my own choice. Coming to terms that I am responsible for my life because I am responsible for my choices. No one made me pull the trigger, it was my finger. Sure, there is pressure within societal, culturally, and professionally norms, but still my choice. Couple that with the consistent missed expectations of the mental gymnastics of peer comparisons, there is no space left in my mind to grasp anything else. I am coming to realize that the only way to acknowledge this and have the honest conversation with myself was to remove myself completely from the environment. From the moment I decided I to take this trip I had a feeling I needed to go. I didn't know why it was just a feeling I had. I felt like I was crazy and shared that with a few people. On paper I had it all but now I see that I was never consistently happy. Don't get me wrong I've had amazing times so far in my life, and have had a lot of fun. I just didn't know that hating my day to day and living for a weekend to erase the week was not a sign of success. Goa is full of beaches along the coast stretching around 45kms along the coast. Scooters are the main mode of transport followed by motorcycles. The Royal Enfield is the biggest bike I've seen with a 350cc engine. They are the Indian Harley and very popular with Russian tourists. Outside my hostel a man has a business renting them. 300 rupees ($5) and a quick tutorial and I was off. Drivers beat the hell out of these scooters, I have absolutely no idea how they keep them running and on the road. On road or off road no problem, when in doubt throttle out. I picked the northern most beach and set off. Per my map it was ~30kms away and should take about 45 mins. I got lost so many times and was driving on roads that would be considered ATV trails in Colorado, after 3 hours I still never find the beach. Frustrated I leave the forest and set off for the next one “paradise beach” that sounds nice. I cruise for an hour south and find myself in the same situation. The roads just end and I can't make sense of it. I can't hear the water, I see no sand, and even though I see some houses I see no people. Defeated I turn the scooter around when all of a sudden a man appears from the bushes. “Paradise beach?” “……yes”. He motions to park the bike, give him 10 rupees and walk 2 mins past some houses. I oblige and cut through some houses and scare some chickens and dogs, still no people. The trees break and I can see the sky and eventually I hear the ocean. Finally I have made it to a beach! Better late than never. There are maybe 8 Russian tourists and 2 bartenders. I eat some necessary chicken lollipops, butter naan, and ice cream. It's so hot on the beach and I'm not convinced my sunscreen works. I apply more lotion but due to the dirt and sand it creates a chalky paste that I can't rub in. I'm covered in this paste but I love naan. As I leave and return to my scooter a crowd has formed around. They see me and ask to take a picture with me as they all gather round to snap a selfie. I spend the rest of the day cruising down the shore racing the sunset as my scooter doesn't have a headlight. I spend my last day just relaxing and actually having a day on the beach. I got there early and found someplace quiet away from the thumping speakers of psy-trance. I had a nice view of some jetties and watched the waves come in while reading my book. Sitting among the cows I quickly realized that my solitude made me an easy target and focus of every person selling something on the beach. Women are selling jewelry, henna, and salon style services. The men are selling massages . Similar script every time “what's your name?” “Where you from?” “How many in your family?”. I thought I could be slick and avoid this from the start by saying I wasn't interested in threading my chest hair, wasn't a bracelet jewelry kind of guy, nor did I want a intricately designed traditional symbol on my foot. The question they got me with was the family one. Once they heard I had a sister it was all over. Sorry Sarah I didn't get you any, I'm sure I'll find something better. These women did have excellent sales skills though playing to my family, religious inferences, and the long game of stalking you on the beach over the week; they never forget a face. I don't know if the stories I was told about their husbands deaths, their choosing Jesus over the statue gods, or general hardships were true or not but I can agree they do live a hard life. Every tourist is seen as Bill Gates though, and they get very frustrated or angry with you when you look but don't buy. I finally got my first train ticket booked the evening of my last day. Booking the train took about 3 days and didn't realize I did it wrong until the day before I left and after I booked my accommodation. I was concerned that I would need to take a bus or postpone. Potentially a costly mistake. Everything worked out though, I still don't understand the process or reasons for it but that doesn't mater. I had to leave for the train station at 5am so decided to take it easy and get some sleep. I had dinner at a small restaurant that I hadn't been to yet for my last meal. A old woman worked there and I was the only one in the restaurant. I ordered some more chicken tikka and butter naan. She apologizes that it will be a little bit but proudly says that they make everything fresh. When you stay at the jungle hostel you get a green wristband for security, everyone in Goa knows this and constantly uses it as a way to start conversation. Annoyed by this, I removed mine on the second day as it was too recognizable. The woman asked where I was staying and was confused when I answered the jungle. I told her the sellers badgered me too much and recognized me too easily so I took it off. I'm not sure why but she thought this was the funniest things she's ever heard. Her restaurant was on a busy main road and took pride in keeping it clean. She said the misquotes come when there is garbage and when the misquotes come the disease comes and it's very bad. Her largest son was just sick and now she is worried about the little one. It's a nice, warm, relatively quiet night and we are watching the cars, bikes and people go by. I ask her if she likes the psy-trance music, she does not. She doesn't play music and likes the quiet in her restaurant but let's the workers listen in the back of the kitchen. I ask her “what's your favorite time of year in Goa?” She smiles a bit then nervously laughs a bit and puts her face in her hands for a second. She answers “no time is my favorite time”. Then she proceeds to explain, in the quiet season there is no tourist money coming in, she can't pay rent, the workers, and the bills. In the high season there is money and is busy but there is no quiet with constant music and Russian tourists blasting down the road on their Enfields. It's a never ending cycle, she has no hopes it will get better and no prospects to change or leave this life. The world felt like it got a little smaller in that moment. Here I am in the Eat, Pray Love capital of the world and this woman is explaining problems that I could have heard at any happy hour in Denver. A world away and everyone has the same feelings, same problems, and same fears. The difference is I was lucky enough to even be able to choose a different way of life. I'm not sure she was so fortunate at any point of hers. I took my first train in India today and I couldn't be more excited. I love trains and this has been a goal of mine for a long time. I'm heading 8 hours east to a town called Hampi. I am going based on a recommendation of someone I met and I have never heard of it previously. It's supposed to be an area full of ruins and in 5 days time be shut down and reinstated as a UNESCO world heritage site. I am looking forward to seeing an aqueduct. I also watched passengers run and jump onto the moving train. While I hope all my future timelines work out, it did look like fun.
-Joe
*photos are hard to upload on these connections so check out my Instagram instead.