I had heard that Pushkar was a hippie town, but I had no idea what it meant to be IN a hippie town in India. This place (pop. 14K) is really the first place I"ve been to that totally caters to westerners with its many multicuisine restaurants that serve Israeli, chinese, and pizza. I just want to eat Indian food, damnit! I can eat that other stuff at home. There are more cattle here than Jaipur or Delhi and their lives seem just as tragic, eating garbage, eyes weeping, swatting flies with their tails, being pushed around by locals, some with bones sticking way the hell out. I'm still not sure why there are so many male cattle since they aren't eaten. I guess they can't kill them so they just let them eat the garbage that there is no infrastructure to haul away. Do they actually milk the cows? What does garbage milk taste like (the milk carton reads: ...fed only the finest fast-growing spring-garbage). I thnk I'm gonna go into business making garbage infused vodka. It'll be the hot new Portland hipster irony-based boutique beverage. You with me on this, Davidson??? Therein lies our fortune.
The nice thing about being in a place that totally caters to folks like myself is that the economy is based on selling me shit I have no use for. However there are a bunch of English book stores that keep me happy enough on the reading end of things and there are functional internet cafes so that I can type this garbage out and send it along to you, the reader.
Right now is the Kite festival where every kid flies a kite from his roof until the sun sets and they go inside and play SEGA. JK. JK. There's a small lake that the town surrounds where people bathe and I am led to believe that this is a place that Hindus gather for somethin or other.
There's a cone shaped mountain nearyby that I'm gonna climb, right foot be damned, as there's some sorta temple atop it and nothing beats a mountaintop temple.
When I went to mail a few postcards today at the mail place the dude asked me if I were a doctor. I'm not sure if he thought I looked like a rich bearded doctor or just thought my handwriting was so sloppy that it was the only job I could get. I told him I was a bicycle mechanic. He asked it if was good, and I said yes.
I noticed on the cram jam of a local bus ride over the mountain that serperates Ajmer from Pushkar,m as I tried to hold on to the hand holds for dear life that I'm super skinny and have lost all my bike mechanic muscle mass from 5 weeks of walking all day and eating too few croissants. I think it's like 5 croissants to one Dan Sloan sized portion of kale and they didn't have kale anywhere I looked. So if anyone wants to challenge me to an arm wrestling competition in Feb, now's your chance to win.
No one in India, no business, I mean has change to your big billz, like 100- rupee note or 500 rupee note. That's like $2 or $10. Even places where they sell things all day long in touristy parts, they will give you the hardest time for trying to pay for something that costs 250 rupees with a 500 note. I guess you can't just go the the wells fargo around the corner and get change whenever you want. Boy, oh boy are we privileged.
When I arrived at my hotel, I made a beeline for the rooftop restaurant and chillzone as I was really hungry and needed to chillzone. THere was a german couple in their 50s and the man was smoking a bee dee and he took a drag and didn't exhale, but continued breathing normally and I counted the smoky exhalations at 10. That is dedication to nicotine and tar and flavor, sweet tobacco flavor. The food was regrettable, but the view was not, golden sunset and kids with kites and stretching out to the mountain that reminds me of the volcano Santa Maria outside Xela in Guatemala, but smaller by several thousand feet.
Put that in your sorta relaxing, yet sorta chaotic skullbong and smoke it.
The nice thing about being in a place that totally caters to folks like myself is that the economy is based on selling me shit I have no use for. However there are a bunch of English book stores that keep me happy enough on the reading end of things and there are functional internet cafes so that I can type this garbage out and send it along to you, the reader.
Right now is the Kite festival where every kid flies a kite from his roof until the sun sets and they go inside and play SEGA. JK. JK. There's a small lake that the town surrounds where people bathe and I am led to believe that this is a place that Hindus gather for somethin or other.
There's a cone shaped mountain nearyby that I'm gonna climb, right foot be damned, as there's some sorta temple atop it and nothing beats a mountaintop temple.
When I went to mail a few postcards today at the mail place the dude asked me if I were a doctor. I'm not sure if he thought I looked like a rich bearded doctor or just thought my handwriting was so sloppy that it was the only job I could get. I told him I was a bicycle mechanic. He asked it if was good, and I said yes.
I noticed on the cram jam of a local bus ride over the mountain that serperates Ajmer from Pushkar,m as I tried to hold on to the hand holds for dear life that I'm super skinny and have lost all my bike mechanic muscle mass from 5 weeks of walking all day and eating too few croissants. I think it's like 5 croissants to one Dan Sloan sized portion of kale and they didn't have kale anywhere I looked. So if anyone wants to challenge me to an arm wrestling competition in Feb, now's your chance to win.
No one in India, no business, I mean has change to your big billz, like 100- rupee note or 500 rupee note. That's like $2 or $10. Even places where they sell things all day long in touristy parts, they will give you the hardest time for trying to pay for something that costs 250 rupees with a 500 note. I guess you can't just go the the wells fargo around the corner and get change whenever you want. Boy, oh boy are we privileged.
When I arrived at my hotel, I made a beeline for the rooftop restaurant and chillzone as I was really hungry and needed to chillzone. THere was a german couple in their 50s and the man was smoking a bee dee and he took a drag and didn't exhale, but continued breathing normally and I counted the smoky exhalations at 10. That is dedication to nicotine and tar and flavor, sweet tobacco flavor. The food was regrettable, but the view was not, golden sunset and kids with kites and stretching out to the mountain that reminds me of the volcano Santa Maria outside Xela in Guatemala, but smaller by several thousand feet.
Put that in your sorta relaxing, yet sorta chaotic skullbong and smoke it.
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