I also enjoyed the movie (Enchanted), too. However, it did make me realize there’s pretty much a dearth in the number of Bollywood films for kids. I mean, in four months, I’ve seen ads for one kids’ movie. I guess Indians haven’t mastered the art of grooming child stars who grow up to be drug addicts yet.

On another note…in about one hour I’ll be heading off to continent numero three for the trip (well, four, if you count North America).

When my roommate went to Europe four years ago, the other three of us basically lambasted her when she returned. After the first week of a multi-month trip, the only place her and her boyfriend ate at were McDonald’s and Hard Rock Cafes. They said Mackers was cheap and they got free soda refills at HRC.

We were all pretty much in disbelief that she’d go all the way to Europe to have Hard Rock Cafe every day.

OK…so now I can totally relate. There’s this place near my guesthouse here in Mumbai that gives free soda refills. I think it’s the first time I’ve had it the whole time I’ve been in Asia. I keep going back and back (OK, three times is really all)…and I don’t know if it’s the food, the fact that it’s literally next door to the guesthouse, or that I get the free refills. But I’m pretty sure it’s the last one.

PS: They’ve got this puzzle on their placemats where you try to come up with as many three-plus letter words as you can from the word “America.” I got nine. How many can you think of???

Speaking of magazines…

The domestic airport at Delhi had this handy-dandy magazine vending machine. Great to know I can get Time, Good Housekeeping, or Cosmopolitan if I need them.

But I should admit. I’m not really a fan of vending machines. Too many times I’ve gotten a Diet Pepsi instead of a 7Up or watched in disappointment as my Doritos got stuck mid-drop on the spiral thingy. I mean, I can just imagine pressing the buttons for Time and getting one of the machine’s Hindi-language rags instead.

Apparently, though, the company’s got a guy on hand, should I run into any vending machine woes. (He was standing around while I was looking in) So weird. I mean, why not just have him sitting there selling them??? Because it makes much more sense to create a machine to replace the human…and then hire another human to watch the machine. Obviously.

Although I’ve gotten little mail on this trip, India did give me two fab pieces. First there was the Christmas card from Melanie that arrived in Shillong way back when.

Then there was the recent urgently sent documents from my sis. Inside this wonderful little envelope from the States wasn’t just my papers. Nope. It also included two Pay Day candy bars and a copy of US Weekly. Both of which I don’t usually buy for myself back in the states but devoured pretty quickly (yeah the candy bar’s already half gone).

Although the Brit saga in US Weekly was of interest…I was floored to find out that Neil Patrick Harris (aka Doogie Howser) is gay. Apparently this is common knowledge now. And only 61% of the mag’s readers are looking forward to the New Kids on the Block reunion. Um…hello? As soon as the tour dates are released, I’m buying tickets. Seriously. Why, you ask? Well, for starters…

Step 1. We can have lots of fun.
Step 2. There’s so much we can do…

Hopping onto a camel and spending a night sleeping in the desert wasn’t one of my plans when I started this trip. If you knew me then, you’d know I actually had very little planned other than, you know, hopping on a plane to China and figuring I’d see the Great Wall there and then try to keep up with my other pre-purchased flights.

In my last week in China, though, I came across the first American on the trip. We hung out at Jiuzhaigou together that day and swapped a few travel stories. When she heard I was traveling to India at some point, she said I should go on a camel safari in Rajasthan.

I took note in the handy-dandy moleskin notebook I’ve been carrying around with me and almost nine months later I did just that. And LOVED it.

Holy cow…has it already been nine months? Yikes.

So, although I’d previously quietly payed the foreigners’ price, I have to admit I’m getting a bit more annoyed by it. I mean, before I told myself that the publicly owned sites were (theoretically) payed for by taxpayers’ money, so charging non-tax-payers a different price is excusable.

Now, though, I’m not so sure. I mean, a small difference would be OK. But more than 15 times the Indian price? No thanks. And the worst is when I get the SAME exact service as the Indian tourists and then the guide (which was mandatory and included in the ticket I payed five times the amount for) ends the tour and still asks for a tip because I’m American. Uh, no thanks, champ.

Then, in Bikaner, I met a Spanish couple who refused to visit any of the sites that charged two separate prices. “We miss out on a lot,” the woman says, adding that there are plenty of Indians that make more than she. They’re happier that they stick to their morals.

That got me thinking…how do you all feel about the foreigners’ prices? Clearly, this would never fly in America, but what about when you’re traveling? Fair or not??? Hmmm…

This time I was at Dilli Haat in Delhi. It’s a bazaar-type place with craft stalls from most Indian states and food stalls from a lot, too. If you’re in Delhi and have only a limited amount of time to visit the country, Dilli Haat is a good place to go to experiment with a lot of the country’s cultures. (You should definitely get the Rs. 20 — about $.50 — fruit beer from the Nagaland stall, too…fun because it’s fresh and fruity but also because you won’t actually get it in Nagaland…a dry state!)

While perusing a stall, I heard a familiar song coming from the nearby Manipur food stall. Thought I’d let you try to guess it. I have to admit, it’s a bit more difficult than an Usher song…and not just because the sound quality ain’t so hot…

However, grouping all North Indian men as one type would be completely inaccurate…just thought I’d give you a peek into two that I ran into…

It’s a short video, less than a minute long

I have been having a total blond-girl-in-Asia complex in Delhi and Agra. And I don’t really know how to cope.

See, this is really the first time on this trip where I’ve felt like people were staring at me. OK. “felt” is a poor choice of words. Because people ARE staring at me. A lot.

Before I left North East, I’d bought the traditional Assamese dress, which looks a lot like a saree but is easier to wear (because it’s two pieces) and is something I can take apart to wear back home. I’d had two Assamese women train me in putting it on, so I knew I’d be wearing it properly.

So on the day I went to visit Agra, home of the Taj Mahal, I figured I’d wear it, you know, hoping to blend in. Well, you know, that didn’t happen so much.

At first I thought the recent pickpocketing had just made me paranoid about people staring at me. But, then, at the first tour stop, a woman sitting on a bench, yells at me, “Hey, babe, lookin’ good!” Hmmm…weird. So maybe they ARE staring at me.

Then at the Taj, I could feel more people staring…men and women. At the entrance, I heard the kids behind me whispering in Hindi but realized they were talking about me when I caught the word mekhla (the word for the skirt of the dress I was wearing). Later, a wife and husband, both dressed in traditional Indian clothes, stopped me, and tell me, “You look wonderful in the saree…keep it up!” People staring and commenting on my dress played itself out over and over throughout the day.

I tried to ignore it, but I’d made four friends on the bus ride, a Sri Lankan-Canadian couple and two Indian guys, and one of the Indian guys — without knowing my paranoia — kept pointing out who was staring at me. He’d keep saying, “all the women are looking at you right now” or “they’re staring again.” Um, yeah, so it wasn’t just in my head.

Fast forward to the next day. I just wore jeans, an Indian shirt and my coat (which I hardly took off the whole day). Thinking it was the full-on Indian dress that drew the attention, I figured I’d be OK.

Wrong. The stares continued. And, of course there were the rude men making comments as I walked by; but I’d been to dance clubs in the states…and I’m sure what I’m hearing here is just the Hindi version of the obnoxious stuff I heard back home. I mean, I can handle the lewd, “Hey, baby,” comments and obscene gestures. But the stares??? And pictures? One English-speaking Indian couple stopped and asked me for a picture with them as did a group of high school boys. And those were just the ones who asked. I noticed a few others snapping away as I’d walk past.

I thought this was only supposed to happen to the white chicks. I mean, I’d been giving my supposed-to-be-visiting roommate the advice to dye her hair so as not to draw attention to herself. But the blonde American solo 20-something female traveler drew less attention than I in Delhi.

Instead, I’m the freak show here. There’s plenty of blondes around, and Koreans are EVERYWHERE (I even saw another wearing a saree at the Taj Mahal), and I just want them to go stare at them.

I know I should be flattered. People are clearly not doing it out of harm. And from the (non-”Hey, baby!”) comments that I’ve understood, they’re looking at me in a positive way. But I guess I realize that although I always want to be the girl who walks into a room and makes everyone stop and stare, I’m not. I’m way too self-conscious to handle it. Because there’s this little voice in the back of my head that says, “They’re thinking ’she’s too fat to wear that’ or ’she’s too skinny’ or ‘who does she think she is?’ or ’she looks like a total prostitute.’” So instead of being flattered, I freeze up and my mind starts thinking of all my flaws and how I want to hide every piece of me.

Yeah…who knew being in Mainland India would make me have this self-realization of how uncomfortable I am with my body and flattery? I sure as heck didn’t. Uh, so yeah, thanks, India. Now I’m just obscenely aware of another one of my relationship issues.

Wow. I really wish my friend Megan would have been here these last few days, like we’d planned. Not only would I have a pal to chat with, but I could totally blame her for the people staring and taking pictures and have spared myself this awful introspection.

Maybe I should become a true rock star and pick up a mind-altering drug habit to forget about it.

Laying down to forget about the starers and quite succeeding at looking frumpy

My total papparazzi shot

Me and my (adorable) papparazzi photog…who I spent a good chunk of the day chatting with…but didn’t get his name, of course

The Taj Mahal was one of three “must-see” sites for me on this trip. The others were The Great Wall and Victoria Falls.

How impressive was the Taj? Not so much as impressive in size as I expected. But it’s one heck of a tribute to love, that’s for sure.