The full story...

Okay okay, I will now elaborate on the "jumping off a moving train" story a bit, for all those who were curious/worried/disbelieving/thinking I really am an idiot. So Paula and I decided to take the night train back from Rishikesh to Delhi, because I had to catch another evening train the next day, and wanted to be sure I would have time to run some errands in Delhi before I had to take my two day train to Chennai in south India. So we went to the station a bit early, by fluke of the bus that took us to Haridwar was empty and moved a lot quicker than we had anticipated. We went to the platforms and found the one that had our train number flashing on the screen over it, and hunkered down amongst the crowd to wait a half an hour for our train to arrive. After about 10 minutes, a train pulls up and we check the screen to see if it is ours, and it seems to be, and Paula said that sometimes they do arrive early and in that case, also depart early. So of course, we start frantically searching for our car number (both of them- we were in different sleeper cars), and fail to find mine but we find Paula's- and at this moment, the train starts to move. We scramble to climb onto the rolling train, bags in tow, and manage to tumble into the car in a jumble of limbs and luggage. After dusting ourselves off, we begin to search for Paula's bunk, with the plan that I'll just sit with her until the conductor comes to check our tickets, and can inquire to him about my bunk. After a few minutes of walking the gauntlet of stairs, rows of people on either side wrapped in blankets peering over bunks and hanging on railings, we find her bunk number. There is a man asleep in it. Okay, we think, he probably just passed out there and we'll have to use a different bunk. So we politely turn to some of the curious onlookers and double check that we have the right bunk number. The right car number. The...wrong train. Well, at this point, both of us are beginning to feel the slightest inklings of panic trickle to our stomachs. Does this train go towards Delhi at all? No, it goes the opposite direction, further north. Oh. Frantically trying to force our brains into action, we move to the end of the car, and then out into the area between the cars. Staring out the open door. Paula looks back at me and says "Do you think we should jump?" I say I suppose so; we have to get off the train and I don't want to be stuck in a random town all night waiting for the next one, and possibly miss my rather expensive train to Chennai the next day. We look at the ground, which doesn't seem to be passing by at great speed yet, and is still concrete at this point; not yet gravel or grass. Some of the people from the train have followed us out to the door, and are looking back and forth at us and the increasingly rapidly passing scenery; they start shaking their heads and repeating one word, not very anxiously- no no no no. Paula glances at me, hesitates for one instant, then leans out the door and as she disappears I hear "I'm going to juuuuuuuump..." thunk! I still have her heavy rolly suitcase in my hand, as well as my own backpack, so I put the suitcase in front of me, look at the ground, and then thrust the bag out in front of me into the passing air, my body following, refusing to let go of that damned bag, with an "I'm coming toooooooooooooooo...!" thunk. Skidrollscrapcrash. I tried to hit the ground running, but we were actually moving so fast that my feet were gone before I knew what had happened, and my head was what was connecting me to the ground, then my shoulder, then my nose and then the rest of my leg and hip. When I'm able to actually comprehend what is going on, I look over at Paula, who is in pretty much the same state as me; a battered crumpled heap. We look over to see a few people towards the station staring at us, and then to our other side, where we see we had missed the end of the platform (a bunch of poles and a wicked looking fence-aka, death) by a few metres. We look back at each other, barely able to understand what has happened, knocked silly by our fall, and begin guffawing so hard that we are completely helpless in our laughter for a good five minutes. Still giggling, we begin to pick ourselves up and assess the damage. Wheely suitcase slightly battered and broken. Bag of bananas liquified. Laptop still in one piece, amazingly. Bleeding nose, huge lump on head, Paula has a bruised and swollen wrist that looks like it might be fractured (but turned out just to be badly banged up), my leg is scraped and bleeding, and I can't move my right arm. Not too bad for leaping from a rapidly moving train, all in all.
In the end, we did catch our train to Delhi, spent an extremely uncomfortable cold stiff dirty night in sleeper class, with a bunch of hilarious guys who taught us silly card games and Paula dubbed "the master of cheating" and "the master of laziness", etc. I had wonderful spicy Indian breakfast with Paula, her friend, and her friend's family, then bummed around with my friend Kamal in Delhi and finally ran off to catch my train to Chennai. After a two day, rather uneventful and surprisingly comfortable train ride, I am now in Chennai with Miyako, in her beautiful house (which has an extra room nudge nudge wink wink might be coming back to live in India for a bit) going to the beach to help decorate her mum's beach house today, and Pondicherry together later this week. Everything else is still up in the air, coruscating delightfully there.

Not much to say except-

yesterday, in India, I jumped from a moving train.

trains autos and sadhus oh my!

So, two days ago I arrived in a lovely place called Rishikesh, where the Beatles hung out and were groovy and where the dust and smoke of the air is mingled sweet with spice. I met some terrifically interesting people; a crazy Indian writer better known as "the black goddess of Laxmanjula", a Dutch guy who plays Persian instruments beautifully, my friend Paula, of course, and various other characters in passing. This town in the mountains is quite touristy, with a lot of false spiritualism and lost people, but there is no denying the sense of peace tinging the very air. The moon is full tonight, and there will probably be some kind of celebration. Last night I walked in the light of the nearly full moon, down windy dirt roads in the mountains and listened to the chuckling of the tiny streams feeding our mother Ganga. The Ganges runs strong and green (and more than a little dirty, upon closer inspection) through this place, and I feel very close to the heart of things because of her presence. This trip is already proving to be vivid, stimulating, and confusing all at once. I am very happy. I also was sick with a fever all day yesterday, and my tummy is complaing very badly today, but I am till happy, and it will pass. It is just my body unloading and shivering out of many old unnecessary chemicals and energy and adjusting to what India surrounds it with. And the owner of my guesthouse looks like the Indian George Clooney, and is the most hearbreakingly kind person, and I am in love with him.

My first shower in India. That bucket, I mean.

My first view of mother Ganga from Laxmanjula, Rishikesh.

Ramjula at sunset

Natasha and crazy Mira with her guitar, at Mira's house.

Streets of Rishikesh

Paula shopping

New Delhi!

Well, after a relatively smooth, empty plane ride where I was able to stretch out over two seats to myself, and even get some sleep, I have arrived in this tremendous, smoggy city! Kamal from CS came to the airport to get me, and we took an hour and a half cab ride through the craziest streets I've ever experienced, to this apartment in the north part of the city that his friend and him have for couchsurfers. Its a beatiful, dirty old apartment with stone floors and only occasional running water and a toilet the won't flush so you have to dump water from a bucket into it. Another couchsurfer was there when we arrived, a Aussie Sri Lankan girl named Natasha, who i hit it off with right away. Within ten minutes we had decided to go to Rishikesh together the next day. So after an evening of chatting and drinking indian beer with Kamal and his friend Santa (yeah yeah, I know) me and Natasha crashed on blankets on the floor. So here we are, our first real day in india- we made it to an internet cafe and we are about to go get tickets and try to get to Rishikesh today with my friend Paula. So now you guys know, i have arrived, i am alive, and i'm about to go have some hella adventures!

India Shupatsu~

Okay, well, here goes- I leave for my five weeks of adventure in India tomorrow! I'm flying in to Delhi, where I'll be couchsurfing the night and then heading to Rishikesh to meet Paula the next day. I'm not sure how long I'll be there or what the exact plan is after that, but here is a run down of the places I'd like to make it to, spirit of India permitting:
Chennai (to see Miyako)
Kanchipuram
Kodaikanal
Tiruvannamalai (Ramana Maharshi's ashram!)
Coimbatore (Madhubai and Arsha Vidya Gurukulam)
Mumbai (Shivani!!)
And if time permits at all, I'd like to go to Varanasi.

I'm shining up those travelin' shoes (and getting on my wanderin' blues)!

Rest of Hitchhiking

Okay, I'm going to be bad and condense the rest of the trip into one entry, so I can get ready for (bah bah buuuuum) my India trip! For a more detailed version of hitchhiking events, please check out the blog of my partner in crime http://drunkensparrow.blogspot.com/

So, the day after Christmas, the second day in Hiroshima, we took the ferry out to Miyajima, where we were nibbled (or full on bitten) by deer who were perfectly comfortable wandering the little streets of the town. We ate yakidango (which the deer also tried to nibble), walked out to the huge tori since the tide was out, left our mark on the beach,and then decided to wander up to the big temple on the mountain, Daishoin. Yuriko rang the bell upon arrival (I rang it to note our departure) and we went in, only to find out that Daishoin is Kukai's temple! After studying Kukai's texts so intently last semester, I felt a sort of fate about coming to this particular temple. I bought and lit a candle for a blessing, and then we decided to try and hike to the top of the mountain, where the flame that was used to light the flame of peace in the atomic bomb memorial has been burning since Kukai's death (over 1000 years). We failed to make it though, as it was getting too dark and we didn't have any lights with us; primordial forests are not a good place to be stuck in the dark. We learned a similar lesson the first time I climbed Mt. Fuji. There was a magical moment where we ran breathless and laughing through the streets of the old fashioned town, toward the shore, right at dusk as all the little street lanterns began to light up, and felt like we were in Sen to Chihiro no Kamikakushi (and being Spirited Away). The tide came back in and we were able to see the giant tori all lit up in the ocean, and play on the beach until we almost got stuck because of the tide. We then meandered back to Hiroshima, where we filled in the missing two of the three "M's" that you have to experience in Hiroshima. The first was the pub where we played on Christmas, Molly Malones, the second is "Micchan" the freaking most wonderful okonomiyaki restaurant ever, with Hiroshima style okonomiyaki (I can never go back to what I thought was okonomiyaki before, Tokyo just can't measure up). The third is a absolutely groovy bar called "Mac" where we graffitied our mark (the mark of the Sparrows) in the bathroom and took a photo with some of the staff who were friends with Paul, and drank whiskey while listening to Buffalo Springfield.

The next day (day 5) we had a bit of a disaster starting off, taking the wrong train out to where we were supposed to meet Paul, who was going to drive us to the nearest service area to start hitching. Anyway, long story short, Paul couldn't take us and his really lovely friend Chris dropped us off at the entrance ramp to the highway instead. We caught a ride within 5 minutes, with the creepiest dude to day. He shall henceforth be known as "toothless trucker guy". Thankfully, we only had to bear 30 minutes with him before we were dropped off at a service area, and poor Yuriko bore the brunt of his ickyness, being that I couldn't understand his thick Kyushuu accent at all.

Anyway, after a few rides,

(the only white person who picked us up)

we made it back to Kyoto, where we had deliriously delicious soba and then went to a local onsen, where we tried baths with electric currents (yikes) and violently purple blueberry water. After this entertaining experience we headed to the manga kisa Yuriko's friend recommended and yes, we slept there. Well, there was very little sleeping and much more reading manga and playing on the computers and chatting.

Sleeping not as peacefully as we maybe look.

The next day (day 6), groggy and a little stiff we headed to the nearest service area to begin our difficult freezing and rainy trek to Gifu.

I just loved this dog.

The benefits of weird rainy misty weather.

The weirdest part of this day (besides ending up in a car with a couple on their first date, and then some vehement human rights activists who drew a charicature of me) was when we were driving in cold rainy weather one moment, and then suddenly everything was covered in a few feet of snow. Seriously, it was about a 20 second gap. We drove through the most beautiful dark snow covered mountain range, and then emerged on the other side into warm sunlight. Bizarre. Eventually we got to a place where we could catch some local trains to the place we were supposed to stay the night. We played music on the platform and were generally goofy and ridiculous. It was beautiful.

Small birds cast strange shadows

Well, this all started out fine, until we realised that the guy we were supposed to be couchsurfing with in tiny little Osaka Gifu actually lived in Osaka CITY, and we had no money and no place to stay and the sun was almost down and it was snowing in the middle of the mountains. Small panic. So we frantically start making phone calls, and my roomie sends out an emergency message on courchsurfing to see if there is anyone in the area, and then decide to get of the train in a little onsen town called Gero, where we asked the information office if there were any vacancies in any cheap places. Eventually we found one that was out of our budget but we didn't have much choice, so we went to the atm to withdraw money. In this process we found out we COULDN'T withdraw money, because my card didn't work there (small bank) and Yuriko's wouldn't let her withdraw on Sundays. Shit. About this moment, I notice I have a missed call from a number not in my phone. Thinking it was my other roomie, whose new number I hadn't saved yet, I called it back and was VERY surprised when an unfamiliar voice picked up. It was a couchsurfer who happened to have just checked her mail, live in Gero, and was offering to put us up for the night. And the universe comes through once again. So we spent the night with this lovely girl named Dominique, who made us yakisoba and taught us how to braid black hair and how to whip cream. We doodles on her motorbike helmet, watched (randomly) Kill Bill, and then passed out.

In the morning (Day 7), Dominique dropped us off at a really nice onsen in a very classy hotel (which we sat looking like hobos in the lobby of and very conspicuously made hitchhiking signs to tape to my backpack), and after that we began the looooooong journey of leaving Gero. Please note: Hitchhiking not on the highway in Japan can be rather difficult. Eventually we made it to our last ride, a man with two super cute little daughters whom we provided entertainment to until we got to Kofu, where my wonderful saint of a student was waiting (after spending the day hanging out at Mt. Fuji) to pick us up and take us back to Tokyo. Arrive at my house. Pass out. End of one hell of an adventure.

Collage of all of our benifactors, excluding the beloved pinneaple man.

A Not-So-White Christmas

December 25th, Day 3.

Well, we awoke the next morning to a beautiful breakfast of salad and all kinds of croissants and coffee, provided by Maria's aunt. What a wonderful Christmas morning! Yuriko presented me with a delectible Lush massage bar, since I'd been whinging about my muscles hurting the whole way it was pretty funny she had chosen that as a present. Over breakfast Maria's aunt informed us that she would NOT take us to the next service area up the road, but that the whole family was taking a roadtrip to Hiroshima. And this is how we hitched all the way from Okayama to Hiroshima with one ride.

Since we now didn't have to worry about time, after breakfast we goofed around and then took the dogs, Choko and Pyoko, respectively, for a ramble (or an amble, or a peramble).

We titled this photo "jealousy." If you look closely you can see why.

Next thing we know, after we get back, a sudden rainshower is upon us, and we are all rounded up to hit the road. We through our load into the back, and scramble into the car, on our way to our furthest destination, Hiroshima! Maria's aunt insists that we stop at a service area not too far down the road, after finding out that I had never tried kibidango (a kind of sweet famous in Okayama), and buys both me and Yuriko cute boxes full of it. We stopped for lunch a bit further down the road, and Yuriko and I bought her aunt a special kind of cheesecake (ah the gift juggling rituals).

Kibidango, anyone?

Cold though it was, I was suddenly overcome with a hankering for some soft cream.

A hankering which Yuriko apparently shared.

Followed up by some hot takoyaki...mmm icecream and hot octopus.And then...Hiroshima arrival! What a beautiful city! It was love at first sight- although just for me, Yuriko still swears by Kyoto.

Since Hiroshima is built on a delta, the ground is to sandy and loose for a subway system, so the lovely city is full of old street cars! Some of them are new, some are over 50 years old!

We first went to the station, and upon finding a huge and reasonably priced import store, went a bit silly buying snacks and coffee and tea (hey, it was Christmas day, we were buying ourselves Christmas presents!), and then headed off to find our hostel. When we found them, they were tremendously generous and because the dorm rooms were full, offered to give us a private 2 person room for 2 nights for the same price, AND they fed us dinner for free! The hostel's name is J-Hoppers, and I would definitely recommend them to anyone who goes to Hiroshima, and apparently they have another one in Kyoto as well. So we reveled in the joy that was having our own space and some peace of mind for the first time in a few days, and then set off to the pub where we were supposed to be meeting Paul and Paul, and playing that night. We ended up being quite early, as they didn't need us for a few more hours, but we drank and relaxed a bit, and ate (again) REAL fish and chips. We sang a few songs by the Be Good Tanyas, and though we were a bit disappointed with our performance, overall it was a enjoyable, entertaining Christmas.

Then, as we were walking back to our hostel, through Peace park and over the river, laughing and leaping over shrubs and tearing across streets in the still, biting cold late night, the snow started to fall. Only for a few minutes, only tiny, light flakes, but it fell onto our heads and our noses and our numb fingers, and we danced our way home with the magic.