If anyone can get me a MacBook I’ll like your Instagram posts for the rest of eternity. I’m impressed by the capabilities of my iPhone but I miss a keyboard. I’m glad I didn’t purchase a laptop before I left but damn I really want one now. A USB-C powered laptop is on the top of my Christmas list. I think my right pinky will forever be bent from the hours or supporting my iPhone while typing. I got to Mumbai a few hours late but right on IST. Mumbai is considered the New York of India and has the nickname of “the city of dreams”. It’s an enormous metropolis that started as the trade gateway for the west. Now it is the center of finance, business, and Bollywood. I was staying a bit outside of the downtown area but by any standard still incredibly busy. After a 21 hour train ride I decided to relax and tackle the hour long journey by cab. This time with the power of Ola I was confident I wouldn’t be ripped off. 400 rupees ($5.80) later I had arrived at the hostel. Hostels are interesting places, entering a new one always triggers the same evaluation process. In my opinion the winning combination of any hostel is hot water, bottom bunk (with outlet), and cool people who have also just arrived. Anyone of these is good, all three is a grand slam. The first two are easy to understand, these are the constants that make resting in a new place a little easier and more comfortable. The last is based on the vibe and experience lying before you. Who’s gonna be my friend and what adventures does this place have in store? When you see a big group who’s departing as your arriving, it feels like you missed out on a great party. A party you didn’t know about and couldn’t attend even if you did. It’s a nice environment to walk into and can help set the stage for the next yet to be formed group who will have their own farewell procession 72 hours later. I only had a few days in Mumbai and really wanted to see some music. After the conversation the previous night it definitely seemed like something I was missing out on. I tried to find some shows through apps and nightlife websites. I didn’t find much but I did find a bluegrass band who was playing a few days after I was leaving. Turns out there aren’t many music venues and most are clubs focused on electronic or commercial music. The only venues I could find were a series of Hard Rocks Cafes hosting a “Rock Night”. I asked the hostel staff and they confirmed that the Hard Rock was a great venue and one they frequently visit. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a stage at a Hard Rock in the states but this was India and sounded strange enough to to be true. I picked one based on the bands 100 cumulative plays on SoundCloud and called an Uber. After a series of unlikely events I arrived at the venue two hours later. I know I will, but based on where I’m am currently, I can never complain about traffic again. I get to the ‘venue’ and it’s a Hard Rock through and through. The walls are covered in not only music memorabilia but sports and movies as well. There is also a new food promotion focused on Mexican entrees. I asked the bar tender if it was a popular choice, it was not and they were confused on how to eat it. The stage was enormous but it was still a restaurant. Few tables were coupled off on dates, a large group of businessmen were drinking Coronas, and a woman was celebrating her birthday with some sort of cake. I’m standing at the bar fielding questions around how I found myself there and killing the hour before the music starts. Nice staff but they were disappointed to hear I had never seen music at the Hard Rock in the states and I wasn’t sure it existed. The band was great. A nice mix of original songs and covers ranging from Incubus to Leon Bridges. It was nice to get out and see music but it was no Hi-Dive. The search continues. I started off the next day early with some 5 rupee (<10¢) chai and some eggs. I loved chia before I left and I love it even more now. Understandably they look confused when I ask for a dirty chai but it’s still delicious. The portions are much smaller and there is no choice of “spicy sweet or somewhere in the middle”. The chia comes from a big metal jug and no one is quite sure how it got there. I burn my fingers on the thin dixie cup and my lips everyday. It’s become part of my daily routine. Through a few conversations and research provided by buzzfeed I learn that directors are always filming Bollywood movies and are always looking for western tourists to fill roles as extras. I compile a list of hot scouting locations. After a crash course in Mumbai train riding, I am on my way. The Mumbai metro train system was a great experience. As I have said, I love trains and I don’t believe a city is a real city without a train based mass transit system. The train system in Mumbai is made up of multiple routes serviced by a few different train companies. I had to use two in order to get to my destination. The Metro and the Western Rail. First, the Metro took me to a larger train station and had maybe the nicest commuter trains I’ve seen in any city. They were clean, cheap, on time, and the A/C was blowing cold. The Western Rail train was more like something out of Slumdog millionaire. An over crowded cattle car filled with passengers speeding past the slums and stray stray dogs with the doors open. The train is the Wild West and was full of social mores which direct every passenger. Rules I was ignorant to but quickly learned by being thrown in the deep end and cursed out by an old woman. The train waits for no one and is never late. To shorten the exit process, the doors are always open. This allows exiting passengers to be pushed off or jump off the train as it approaches the station. Pro tip: if you’re by the door, you better be getting off at the next stop because you’re going to be on the platform one way or another. Once the train stops the remaining exiting passengers fight the incoming mob of passengers to get off the train. To get on the train, pushing is key. There is no being polite, orderly, or logical about the process. Just get on the train anyway possible because we will be testing the physical limits of the carriage. I heard stories but nothing replaces the experience of fighting for a spot to stand on a 10 rupee transit train. The suggested scouting locations and popular tourist locations are one in the same. Best case scenario I finally get my break into the Bollywood acting scene. Worst case scenario I get a tour of the city. I find it difficult to tell the nice parts and bad parts of any Indian city. Nice houses are next to abandoned ones and stray dogs and beggars are on every street. I have become observant of the vehicles to make a determination. I walked around an area that must of been the Manhattan. A big park surrounded by government buildings, nice houses, and schools. I really like all the hand painted signs and murals of India. Trains, cars, walls of buildings, and billboards all hand painted. Some really impressive, quality, and well done; others should have been sketched out first to avoid becoming the eye sore they are. I’ve commented on the traffic a few times and concluded that while I don’t understand, I’m not sure it’s broken or needs fixing. I don’t have a solution and it seems to work for all intents and purposes. One of the most interesting things I’ve seen so far was during this walk. I saw a traffic light illuminated in a fenced off park near the schools. At first glance I assumed based on the size it was a training facility for scooters. The park consisted of a paved track which snaked through a maze of traffic lights, signs, and cones. It was elaborate and felt overkill for scooter safety. Upon closer inspection I saw what looked like a 3rd grade field trip sitting on some bleachers at the edge of the track. They were listening to a man standing in front of them. On his command they start running along the track. Stoping and starting based on the traffic signals they encountered on the track. This was the “Children Traffic Training Park” and the Mumbai traffic police were getting a head start on teaching the next generation of Mumbai drivers traffic safety. It felt as if it was DARE for driving. I have no idea how impactful this will be but sure is an attempt at a long term solution. It must have been a slow day in Bollywood because I didn’t get discovered. I spent the rest of the day walking around and eating mango ice cream pops. I love mango and these ice cream pops are divine. It’s the best thing 20 rupees ($.30) can buy. I met some college students who showed me a local market with some local sights and sounds. They said that they wanted to practice their English but any unsolicited interest or attention always raises concerns. They were nice and helped me negotiate for a few items, Indian price is the best price. Once it became clear I wasn’t interested in buying their overpriced hash we went our separate ways. Me and some new friends grabbed some beers in a part of town known for its nightlife. The question came up “why do you travel?” And I don’t think I ever thought of that before. I just did but never thought about why. I’m not a huge fan of crowds, tourist attractions are crowded with lines, I like my own space, my routine, specific foods, feeling comfortable and having the illusion of being in control. On the road I have none of those things. Why would I make this choice? On paper it makes no sense. Seeing new ‘stuff’ is cool but I’m not a historian and most of the time I’m lost on the historical significance. Experiencing another way of life is fantastic but staying in hostels starts to feel more like an embassy than a view into local life. I meet a lot of people from around the world whose lives resemble mine more than anyone who is local. It’s easy to understand the allure of vacations but this isn’t a vacation and feels like a job at times. Best job ever, but a job. I really couldn’t identify one event or experience that made travel so important to me. But that’s a bad answer. It’s the ability to unplug from my individual lens of reality that keeps me traveling. It’s the conversations and exchange of ideas I am after and continue to chase. It seems they are more readily available once removed from the ‘normal’. People I meet are on a different wave length, I’m on a different wave length. The only things I keep an eye on is SendGrid’s stock and the cryptocurrency markets, and I’m not even following those closely. I haven’t had to complain about Trump or politics, about salesforce or quotas, I forgot it’s December, Reddit is my least used website, and I won’t recognize popular culture when I return. That noise which was keeping me distracted has almost completely faded from my mind. I sleep when I’m tired and eat when I’m hungry. The only decision I need to make is where I’m going to sleep and what I’m going to eat. Everyday I learn more about what makes me happy and how I used vices to stay distracted. Chasing what I thought would make me happy or rather what I was told would make me happy. Everyday that passes which I don’t allow my mind to tune into the noise of fuckery, I start to hear my intuition. I had an amazing moment the other day when I realized I already had all the answers for my perfect life inside of me. What I lacked was the ability to ask the correct questions and ability to honestly answer myself. Distractions and noises provided answers to questions I was asking, but they weren’t my answers. Listen to the distractions and an answer will be advertised to you. Most likely an answer that worked for someone else but not the one that’s unique to you. Unfortunately through experience and speaking with friends, I know all to well that this lens of reality, the subjective viewpoint of your mind, can create your own prison. The expectations of life aren’t met and feels like there is no escape. Fear of the future fueled by anxieties and regrets of the past creates an endless loop of despair which feels as if it can never end. The truth is it won’t, unless you choose to change something. This past week I lost a friend, it scared me and broke my heart. I remembered a time when we had a few hours to kill in an airport bar in LA. Ranked as one of my favorite conversations. It was last winter, we discussed an idea I had for an app and what we would do if we didn’t have to work. At this time my thought to take a year off was still in its infancy and veiled in secrecy but I shared the framework of my idea with him. He was supportive and told me that if he had a year to do what he wanted he would learn woodworking. He loved to learn and was fascinated by carpentry. He said he read a few books but never had any hands on experience. He wanted to learn woodworking because he wanted to make a boat. We discussed boat designs and what wood would look best on the bow. We laughed while taking shots of tequila and asked while sighing, “wouldn’t it be nice?” I wonder if he thought about that boat or the conversation afterwards or recently. I wonder if things would have been different if he escaped for a while and whittled the vessel that might have taken him away from his pain. The cities are nice to see but it’s always a relief to get back to the rural areas. I had a desert safari booked in a town called Jaisalmer which is in the Thar desert. I dreamed of an Indian version of a marshmallow roasted over a campfire, sleeping under the stars with my camel, and the desert silence; some real Arabian night vibes, but in India. I took a flight to the north to save some time. We must have been the only flight arriving for the day. The terminal is new construction close to the air force base and clean. There was a crowd of twenty people consisting of awaiting families and four taxi drivers at the exit. They are stranded after bringing their last fare to departures and desperate. A bidding war breaks out once it becomes apparent I need a ride. They undercut each other and the hour ride costs 300 rupees. This place is quiet. Like Tatooine quiet, just waiting for droid bandits to show up over the dunes. It’s been raining and it’s cold. Rain is rare in any desert and this is no exception, it’s all anyone will talk about. The town smells like piss and there are boars everywhere. Jaisalmer is known as the “Golden City” due to the buildings and fort being made from sandstone. A fort stands on top of a hill surrounded by homes and businesses of the newly developed town. Anthony Bourdain filmed an episode here and the Bhang shop has a poster celebrating the occasion. The people are nice and compared to the rest of India it’s quiet which is welcomed. I make some new friends in the hostel and we spend the afternoon playing cards, drinking, and eating apple pie - it was great. The next morning I left early to meet with my safari guide. I arrived promptly at the time we agreed but something felt off. He suggests I get some breakfast and wait a bit citing it’s still overcast and might rain again. Sounds reasonable, I get some food and killed an hour. When I returned there was a Jeep waiting and we were ready to depart. We drove for about an hour into the desert stopping quickly at a few tourist areas. After a little while longer he stops the car. “Camel meets us here.” He opens the hatch and takes out a box of food and water. Until this point I was under the impression he was my guide. It was quickly revealed that I was incorrect. He makes a call, smoked a cigarette and tells me to wait there for a few mins. He then turns around and leaves me on the side of a trail with the box of supplies. Some vegetables, flour, spices and a box of water bottles. Shortly after he departs I spy two camels in the distance. Hot dog! The front camel is being ridden by what looks like 12 year old boy. He doesn’t talk much but his name is Gumpa and he’s running the show. No cause for alarm as I figured, clearly he is just taking me to a larger staging camp. We were a bit behind schedule and this made sense. It’s not possible the 12 year old jungle book boy is taking me into the desert for three days. He whistles commands at the camels and eventually these massive horse aliens sit in a manner instagram might call the “cat loaf”. The camels are loaded up with the supplies and with another whistle they stand up mechanically leg by leg, back then front. The saddle is made of iron and wood and covered in blankets. The blankets don’t help much and I’m sore within seconds of departing. Each time I shift my weight in an attempt to get comfortable I picture myself falling off and Gumpa trying to administer first aid. We walk a few hours until the lunch spot. This is when I realized that no one else was coming. It was me and a young boy on camel back trotting into the desert. There are few other moments I have felt so uncomfortable. There is something about a child cooking and serving you a meal that brings about a certain child labor taste out in the meal. We made our way to camp and I struggled with the situation. My gut is telling me this is fucked but I’m trying to fool myself into thinking this is normal. I thought back to the child porters of Everest and drew a line separating the experiences. My guide for Everest wasn’t a child. The person who I trusted to get me out of there safely had responsibilities for me and I was furious at the tour company. I recalled a time when pre-teen Joe killed a neighbors prize winning petunias and knew I didn’t posses the mental capacity for such responsibility. I helped him cook dinner and he taught me how to make masala chia. The kid could cook there was no denying it, he knew his stuff. After we cooked dinner and we fumbled through communicating the plan for the fifth time, he informed me we needed to call for resupply. He asked for a power bank to charge his phone. I grabbed my bag of electronics and asked for the phone, it takes a mini USB which I don’t have. I ask for his cord and he digs in his pocket. What follows left me speechless. With a straight face he pulls out the severed connector of a mini usb cable. Just the end that plugs into the phone and some frayed wires. Alright. He says we need to fix it. Alright. I don’t know what he has in mind but there’s no chance I’m cutting my braided micro usb cables to splice one for him. He removes his SIM card, we plug it into my phone and copy the contacts. He doesn’t know who we need to call but knows the last two digits. We scroll through every number I’ve had since 9th grade and all of the newly acquired contacts searching for, someone. We call a bunch but it doesn’t seem like anything is resolved. It’s cold in the desert and really cold and wet in the desert after it rains. I packed a few jackets and put on a few layers. I see he’s shivering and covering himself with a towel the size of a bath mat. He doesn’t have any other clothes and I give him some of mine. It’s huge on him but he’s warm. At this point I realize what has happened. This kid was the last back up plan in a plan that was doomed from the start. “No problem no problem” has turned into a problem just as it always seems to in India. I’m pissed at the company and realized the only reason this kid was out here was because of me. I knew the next night was going to be colder and I didn’t have enough clothing to keep us both warm. We didn’t have enough supplies and I wasn’t confident we were going to accomplish what we set out to do. As anything I don’t know the right answer but knew something wasn’t right. That night I watched the sunset followed by a clear night of shooting stars and a sunrise over the dunes. This was open camping, where the blankets used on the saddles doubled as our beds and cover for the night. At some point as we slept it rained again and we were soaked when we woke up. I was done with this experiment and wanted out. In the morning I climbed to the top of a dune and called the owner. It’s difficult to express your frustrations in broken English but tried to make it clear it wasn’t anything the boy did and it was entirely how the company handled the situation. They were apologetic but offered little resolution. Who knows, maybe I’m a hypocrite and should have just gone with it. All I know is I know nothing. Back in civilization we worked out a refund and I went on my way. I spent the next day sitting on a raised patio with some locals playing with a turtle and people watching. It was as weird as as it sounds but they were cool and made a nice chai. I explored the fort and it was very impressive. So neat all the little passage ways leading to shops and peoples homes. I see so many cool little souvenirs I want every time I walk through these markets. It’s the same stuff in every shop but damn it’s cool. Little metal figurines and decorative sculptures that would look awesome on my bookshelf where they would collect dust as my trophies. Jaisalmer had something I hadn’t seen yet, cabinet door knobs. I don’t even own a cabinet but damn they would look good when I finally do. I found it so strange after purging all my personal belongings for two years this sudden urge to collect stuff again. I came close to buying a beautiful dark brown camel hide duffel bag but refrained. I just got to Delhi and will depart for the Taj Mahal in the morning. I have about ten days left in India before I head to Thailand for the holidays. I think that’s pretty rad. -Joe
