Long time no write, and many miles have we driven since then!  We have now arrived in Mussoorie, thus completing the Great Arc of the Himalayas, driving from the south to the north of India more or less along the 78th meridian the whole way.   Many of the places we camped or stayed at hotels in were too small to be easily findable about normal maps.  Since I last wrote, we’ve passed through the major centers of Mysore, Hyderabad, Bhopal, Bharatpur (just west of Agra, where the Taj Mahal is) and finally north of Delhi to the foothills of the Himalayas.  It’s been an extraordinary journey, though naturally not every day was eventful or beautiful.  

The Saga of Sexy Beast:  Alas, Sexy Beast proved unfit for the arduous driving of the Arc.  Well, to be honest, unfit for any driving, really.  

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Driving in India: Much has been written about the hazards of driving in India.  That vehicles and people go wherever they please, in whichever direction they want, whenever it suits them.  That no one pays attention. That there are no rules. I don’t find that to be true.  In fact, after 14 days on the road,  I’ve discerned a certain lingua franca used to communicate what one’s intentions are to everyone else out there.  The principle means of communication is the horn.  Sexy Beast has a particularly melodious horn, which goes shoo ba loo ba doo, and is a pleasure to use.  Buses have horns that sound like a submarine about to submerge:  ah oooo gah.  And big trucks have tiny, twittering horns that sound very feminine:  tweedle deedle dee.  The rickshaws squawk and bicycles go brrrriiiinnnggg.  When all of this gets going, it’s quite a cacophony of sounds.  Everything moves according to who honks longest.  If you’re coming up behind someone and intend to keep moving into their space, you honk.  If you’re next to someone and are going to go by them, you honk.  If you want someone to move over, you honk.  

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We are on our way!!!  Actually, it’s 5 days since we got underway and much has transpired since I last wrote. 

I arrived in Cochin on a flight from Delhi, carrying with me a good strong dose of Delhi Belly, which laid me low for the first 36 hours in Cochin.  So, whatever happened our first day there, I couldn’t tell you. 

Once I was classified as walking wounded and able to shuffle about, Bernard and I took a tiny  ferry across from the Willingdon Island where the Rally group was staying, to Fort Cochin itself, a passage of 10 minutes.  Along the shore there are tall delicate fishing nets strung up on high poles which are lowered into the water right by the shore using a system of pulleys made up of thick jute ropes and big stones. It’s mesmerizing to watch the blue nets, like lacy trampolines, slowly sinking into the water, and then see them slowly rise dripping and glimmering in the sun.  They catch quite a lot of small fish this way, and the small fish markets along the water’s edge are full of a variety of mullet, giang prawns, king fish and more. 

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I suppose it wouldn’t be inappropriate to say that if in 2008 I wrote you from Patagonia via the Anti-Rally Bulletin, now in 2009 I am writing via the Anti-Patagonia Bulletin.  That is to say that, just as our trip through Patagonia was the antithesis of the Peking to Paris rally, so far India is the antithesis of Patagonia.  Now, let’s keep in mind that we are only 5 days into our 2-month trip, but I already feel I have stepped into another element..  There’s earth, wind, fire, air, and then there’s India. 

Delhi is a booming city of  12-15 million (who’s counting anyway), packed with people, cars, construction, ambition.  The impressions come at you fast and furious here, every inch a sight, though not always a pleasant sight.  We chose to do a home stay here, rather than a typical hotel.  This put us in a nice neighborhood called Friends Colony, in south Delhi, a good half hour from the main tourist sights.  Our hosts were Pervez and Lubna Hameed, along with Hameed’s mother Padma….and their 3 servants.  We had one of three guest bedrooms, on the 3rd floor of their home, and ate breakfast, dinner and once also lunch at their table.  

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