From the bottom to the top with some islands inbetween

Time to recap in a quick and fashionable way, of the last weeks from South India, to the Andamans, and into the chaos of Calcutta. We left Varcala to go to the southern most point of India on a packed 3 hour comuter train to Kanyukamari. A city at the tip of southern India. the southern most point on the Indian continent where three bodies of water meet. (the Bay of Bengal, The Arabian Sea, and the Indian Ocean) It is also a place where you can watch the sun rise and fall on the oceans and if you time it right. Watch the sun setting on the ocean with a full moon rising at the same time, also on the ocean. It is also a pilgrimmage point of many Hindus for worship. All this sounds very romantic and fairytale like. We arrived and ran right back out as soon as we could the next morning on the first bus we could book. Kanyukamri was.....well it seemed to be bursting at the seams with everything that you shake your Head at india about. So tucking our tails between our legs, plugging our noses, and clutching our purses close. We caught a bus north to Madurai.

Madurai, is a city well known for its gated temple gates. The city is an easy one to pass on. But one photo briefly glanced in any book of the Temple. Is enough to draw you there in Wonder. I didn't actually think I would make it there to see the Temples. So it was anice little suprise thrown into the bag. The temples themselves are 10 story gates in the shape of Mayan pyramids. But are covered top to bottom in thousands and thousands of life size figures, gods, and Hindu dieties. All very colorful and sculpted in good historical fashion. There are four of these gates and four more half the size in the Interior. The temple complex within is also a great opportunity to watch thousands of hindus in the acts of worship and offerings. This part of Madurai was a great inside look to the Hindu Culture as well as the masterful craft of the eight temple gates. the part of Madurai that didn't go over so well was the three of us having to cancel our bus tickets out. Ten minutes before we were supposed to leave. For reasons of the three of us fighting over one bathroom for the next two days. All night and all day. We dropped like flys one by one. Though we did upgrade right before to a better hotel with a nice bathroom and HBO. Where we all layed and recooperated fror an extra 3 days before buying a ticket to pondicherry.

Pondicherry is a formal french Colony on the East coast of India. It is a clean town that actually had street sweepers and garbage cans. Most of the houses in the french quarter are all in A french colonial style. With colorful streets and flowers hanging everywhere. the french Cuisine was particularly great. Especially the desserts. But we soon bought a taxi for a three hour road trip to Chennai (Formally Madras) India's fifth largest city. But nothing worth really seeing other then some american fast food and a movie. the next morning we caught a two hour flight to the Andaman islands.

the Aandaman islands are a few hundred nautical miles off the coast of eastern India. And are closer in relation to the coast of Burma then to India. They are a series of a few hundred islands stretching north and south for about five hundred kilometers. We flew into Port blair on big Andaman and the home of one of my favorite travelling songs by Jack Johnson called "Holes to heavan." I had always wanted to know where in the world that song took place. It had inspired me on many days out painting in the hot summer. And served as a reminder of why I loved travelling the third world. So It was a nice little suprise to know we had found it. It then served as a reminder that I was indeed on the right road in life. The right place where God intends you to be and the fates find ways to pull you there inevitably. It is always a great feeling to know your exactly right where you are supposed to be. Evfen if that is on a tiny island on the other side of the world.

The Andamans were a real respite from the crowds, the horns, the exhaust, the yelling touts, the smell of urine and cow manure, and all our stomah and butt problems. We caught a four hour cock roach infested ferry out of Port Blair to Havelock island. Where we spent the next two weeks living a very simple life. The island is ringed in long quiet white sand beaches, simple bungalows, local food (grown and caught), falling coconuts, beer shortages, great swimming and snorkelling, and a great place to meet people from all over the world. Beth got her open water diving certification. Sadly me and Shell never went out diving (It was alittle outside our budget). But we definatly took advantage of time on the beach with reading, drawing, painting, and great snorkelling. The interior of the island was all small bamboo walled homes with palm thatched roofs and chickens running from children and water buffalo mozying ever so slowly through all the rice patties. We spent one week in a hut and the next week set up the tent and camped right on the tides. One of those nights, bribing a landowner at sun down to keep our tent from being thrown off the beach. But the power of a few rupees to grease the wheels always goes far. He left with a smile as did we. Setting off down the beach to find dinner. our last night on the island we closed down the bar with a Departure party and a few floor tables full of friends to see us off. Which they did...... at four in the morning. we caught a ferry back to Port Blair the next day and a flight out to Calcutta the following day.

In calcutta me and the sistes said our goodbyes. The two of them were picked up at the airport by the organization they are now volunteering for called "crawl". And from what I have heard since then some two weeks and more ago. Things are going great for them. And they are bringing a lot of love and care to India. And I think India has given them something back. They each have found there calling to be true. Michelle is teaching kids in the mornings and Beth is going out doing nursing work along the railways for the homeless. They each return to finish the little school they have left after this. I think it has refueled they're spirit and reason to continue with the occupations they have chosen. ....Well with our back packs on, we awkwardly hugged good bye and walked off through the crowds. Each in pursuit of different dreams. Mine to finally travel alone for the first time. Something I have sought for ten years. And time is running short. So day one began without a hitch. Strangely day one of travelling alone also marked one day past the longest I had ever travelled abroad or been away from home before. So a day to be marked, happy, and thank full for for multiple reasons.

Calcutta was..........definatly poor but not as bad as I imagined, though I was sheltered in Sutter street the whole time. I met new friends and stayed at the Salvation Army Hostel. It looked more like a turkish prison then a hostel, but it was cheap and right in the middle of things. It definatly scored the award of the worst bathroom I have ever had to use for multiple days....A real winner! There isn't to much to report about Calcutta other then I got some good books, resupplied on pens and a few other items. Burned some cds of photos and uploaded them all. Ate lots of Indian cuisine, found a great street stall that sold chapati roll ups, and ended up at Calcuttas railway station to catch a train with to Varanasi.

Exodus is the only word that comes to mind. that and Chaos. The train station lived upto what you imagine a train station to be like in Calcutta or Just India for that matter. me and this Swedish Guy Eric pushed our way through the tens of thousands of frantic milling masses out to the train platform. The train was two hours late. So for two hours we watched the chaos of the daily commute unfold. There was a constant cloud of dust in the air from all the thousands and thousands of shuffeling feet. It was a nightmare but it was a facisinating nightmare to watch. All I could do was stand tall above it all and watch with a smile as indians jumped to and from moving trians and pushed and shoved and screamed and spit and stared and fought to go from one place to another. Staring is a common thing in india but when you are stared at by thousands and thousands of passing indians, it falls into a category all its own. Add on the egg sized cockroaches scurrying in and about it all as well as all the rats slinking in and out of shadows.....It sounds terrible and it was but I loved it for being what it was. I think I finally gave in and accepted India for all it is and can be on platform 12 that night.