Bodhgaya, Puri and Pondicherry travel blog

November 29, 2014

I have more to add to my journal. I posed some yesterday. I had to finish editing November 17, 2014. It’s done now. I need to post it.

I didn’t do fuck all at Bodhgaya except buy Manish the ring he wanted, used the ATM and recharged the mobile. I didn’t even go to the tree. Fuck there was a lot of backshesh boys. I couldn’t even shake them with my ‘story’. I just laid low and watched the tele.

Today rode about 250 KM’s. We are at the turn off to start heading south. We finish Bihar and entered West Bengal. I can’t speak Bengali. We are on the west side of West Bengal so Hindi is understood. It’s going to be the same as last year. I passed through so many states which had their own dialect.

I know that through my old time friend Taylor Z. that many speak in the south speak and understand English, for the most part. He has been to India twice since I last spoke with him. Several years. He gave me some suggestions on what to see in the south and I have kept them to this day. I am going to take him up on a few. He spent time in Tamil Nadu. I can’t wait to get there. I met Taylor through… oh yes!! I remember. We, I can’t remember who but I do know Joel was there, picked him up one early morning from a basement suite he was renting on Pine [one of those streets] it was between fifth and sixth. We went to Rogers Pass for the weekend. Or maybe it was the day. I have done three ‘day’ trips to ski at Rogers. 16 hour days. These are big days. Normally we stay at the hotel at the pass or the Aslukin Hut [sp?]. Right away he was one-of-the-team. Come to think of it Alan F. was probably with us too. Al is a little off with his… I don’t know how to put it. But a solid skier and fit!! I think he was 47 at the time. Joel, Taylor and I spent three days at the pass. All blue bird. It was huge for me – I was the weak link but kept up just fine. In the three days I think we did 17,000 vertical feet. All self-propelled for those who read my shit. I have done a lot with Taylor. I have the highest respect for him.

The other day I had breakfast [nasta] at a truck stop dhaba. If forget where. It’s inconsequential. The owner spoke English and I ate for free. I always take nasta about two hours after I leave. Aloo prantha, curd and chai. This is the typical Indian breakfast. The other day I had ghobi prantha. It was good too.

While eating at a dabha today I made some observations. First, there are always macramé cots. I think I mentioned this before. Second there is always a ‘tank’ of water where truckers bath and do laundry. It’s made of concrete. The walls are about three feet high. Three meters by three meters. Here they do laundry with what little they have and they bathe as well. Most men will bath in the open. They always wear their underwear. Respectable! The change from wet to dry comes under a towel. The wet underwear is then washed.

The dabha I ate at today had cubicles with cots in them. Mother fuck did they look inviting. I didn’t ask the price. All I could think of was bed bugs. Uggh!!! I didn’t bring my sleeping bag liner because to the volume it consumes. If their sheets are finished – so are the mattresses.

I think my hair has taken a turn for the worst. Cara’s got her work cut out for her. I have been thinking, with great anticipation, that we will tackle this and ‘other’ issues in a nice hot endless shower – with clean towels!!

I will be there by the 20th. Madras – I mean. There are only two places I want to see before Madras. Well – three – kinda. I am going to stay in Bhubaneswar, get a car and do a day [s] trip [s] to both Puri and Kornak, 37 KM’s and 52 KM’s respectively. They run concurrently so I guess the total would be about 130 KM’s. I could care less to drive to these places, get lost, can’t find the mandir’s, can’t get back to my hotel in Bhubaneswar and having to crash somewhere. That would suck. Its best I spend the 1,500 Rs. and the drive me right to Puri and the mandir, I do puga and the off to Bhubaneswar, the madir and do puga and back to Bhubaneswar. Simple as that.

I want to write a little about the last +50 KM’s we just rode. The air pollution was worse than Delhi in ’97. My lungs hurt and my riding gear is grey. Only 50 – 70 KM’s!! This whole region is littered with small steel foundries. Clearly there is no regulation on the amount of particulate they can emit. At one point, I swear, I was in a mini sandstorm. They were doted everywhere are far as the eye could see. Some spewing black, some grey and one was so bad I was sure that they had to have been burning tyres. It didn’t smell like it but it sure looked like it. The smell for the last 50 or so has been acidic. Even in the coal fields of east Assam I had not smelt this. But again that was more excavation than a full on +300 mini steel plants going down within 50 KM’s.

I had a fantastic dream about Joel last night. He was to be my savior. Dispute this man’s girth he is powerful in the back country. And always good to go. And Tim’r? What happened to us? Well Tim, Al and Taylor moved away and I started fucking Joel’s gal under his nose.

I know this fucked up Joel for a while. He recovered. I have not. I want to write of this to…to fucking what?... She was nothing compared to the respect I had for Joel. When you’re in the backcountry everyone looks out for each other. I fucked Joel over. I have to remind myself that I didn’t brooch it she did, whilst together with my friend. I didn’t know much he loved her. Joel stole her from her husband. Regardless, it’s not what Joel did, it’s what I did. I am only responsible for my actions. I will forever regret for my actions. I lost a great friend.

I never really clicked with any of my back country boys. They may disagree, and I’m sure they would. “Yeah, Kevin was a little off but he was ok”. This is how I would like to be remembered.

I live a different life now. While I was hanging with my ‘fit’ crowd we were developing and expanding our business. Then Tim and Taylor moved, I started fucking Joel’s girl. Things fitness wise went down from there. But Trevor, Trevor has always encouraged me to ‘get out’. I am fucking scared of this guy. Fitness - no one I know has fitness like Trevor’s. He’s done a 10,000 vertical foot day. Steph and Lisa could do it if they pushed it. Maybe they have, I don’t fucking know. The day Trev got his 10k Tim’r almost captured one. Taylor could easily do it and Al – most likely if he wanted to. Al’s hunt is for the deep with the right grade. I swear to mother fucking god when we would stop for lunch – I could bat Al upside the head with a four by four and this guy would never skip a beat and would never have lost that cold-muscle-smile grin off his face.

Of course there is a calculated risk when skiing in the backcountry. Someone or all, on our way to wherever, are going to bring up the weather and the avi reports. At Roger’s it quite easy, there’s a station right there. We would always dig a pit if the conditions were questionable. I have to remind myself to speak of Gord White – The God…In my eyes anyway

I had to go for a while. I fucked up my life. I am sweating – even with the ventilatalator. I couldn’t get the lights on, I called, noone came [10 min]. I am on the first floor. There is a boy to pick up dust. I am beyond livid. I did not take it. I looked at it. I go down to speak with the dude. Yelling. His motherfucking smirk. All I can do is look down at the counter. All I hear is, “You motherfucker, You motherfucker”. I am so glad I leave these this behind.

I listen to music with a buzz. Now it’s nothing. It’s just a buzz. There is no examination. Perhaps there was more to examine then. Certainly there was. I was younger. I still have it in my mind. “Give me Shelter’’.

I had a lung infection prior going into Boydgaya then this last 50 KM’s. Uggh.

What makes Kevin? Is it 20,000 fertical feet or is it putting myself in the position to attempt? Failure – this is the wrong word and should be struck from vocabulary. To be given the gift of cancer and do something with the gift? Nah.

Today, I must look at what I have. I have anything I want to have. 60 minutes earlier, if I had a knife that motherfuckers neck would have been mine. I don’t want to get into it.

It’s very easy to go from one stage to another. Elation to isolation. Why do I bitch about this stuff? Crying/… hhhmmm. It’s all my doing. Just as every others voyage in life. For me, I guess it’s the isolation. At least before I could speak Hindi. But….. I have been here before, this is not a new ‘incident’ for me. I guess what I’m getting at is that these, ‘incidents’ are getting tougher and tougher to deal with. At least in CA and SA it was consistent.

It’s easy to go from one to another. Why? Because this is where I put myself AND it challenges me. Today I was weak but I ended up on the plus. Physically though – that acidic shit has done a number on my sinuses.

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