Sunday, July 9, 2006 Rishikesh commercialized town
I had a dream where I was in the car with Dinker in the Mercer Island Library parking lot. He was smoking bidis and got really high and I was getting contact high. Then a Mexican family rear-ended us and we got mad, but we realized they were high, too. Next thing I know, we went up to the clouds and were floating in a crazy Indian music video with 
fire and dancing and colors. The slogan for my malarial medicine with weird dream side effects should be: “Every night’s a new adventure when you’re on Larium!” It was thundering and lightning. So we couldn’t go to Chilla, the national park. So instead we ate a leisurely breakfast at Big Ben (not AC because of the power outage) and took a Vikram through the monsoon to Rishikesh, an hour-long drive. On the way we passed a lot of dilapidated concrete buildings that were poorly-built, more little shops and restaurants, and forests that were flooded. Everyone waved to us and people didn’t even seem to mind the rain. They trudge through it in their cheap plastic sandals and slacks. Rishikesh was depressing and all industrial on the main bank. It's famous as the center of hatha yoga in the world. The Beatles went there and made it famous, and now a bunch of weird whit
e people come to "reach enlightenment" at one of the many ashrams along the Ganges. There was an open marble square with statues of Krishna advising Duryodhan and Shiva, and there were little statues of the other gods built into the tree-trunks. Cows and a few tourists were milling around. It bordered on the Ganges, with marble ghats descending into the water, today enveloped in fog. Across the way were the green hills and cloudy skies of the holy city. In the city I saw a doctor’s office offering ultrasounds, and it had a sign saying “Disclosure of sex of fetus is prohibited under law”. Why have ultrasounds, then? That’s a major problem in India, and interesting because even though the law prohibits it, people still find out the sex and abort female fetuses. We walked across a bridge over a large riverbed where I witnessed two 
pigs having sex (I was too slow on the draw for a picture) and then not 200 meters away a man defecating right in the open. Some squatter towns were built on the banks, made of tarp, stones, and sticks. The kids were all playing in the water and trying to catch fish with nets. We walked through some ritzy residential neighborhoods and an outdoor produce market. There was a lot of rain, and a mix of rainwater, gasoline, spit, urine, garbage, and shit flowed down the overflowing gutters. We took a 200R cab back to Haridwar to catch the cab back to Mussoorie, which took 2.5 hours. I was glad to get back, not have to deal with annoying fellow travelers, and eat some pizza for dinner. I give it to Monday night until I get sick from the Ganges.
fire and dancing and colors. The slogan for my malarial medicine with weird dream side effects should be: “Every night’s a new adventure when you’re on Larium!” It was thundering and lightning. So we couldn’t go to Chilla, the national park. So instead we ate a leisurely breakfast at Big Ben (not AC because of the power outage) and took a Vikram through the monsoon to Rishikesh, an hour-long drive. On the way we passed a lot of dilapidated concrete buildings that were poorly-built, more little shops and restaurants, and forests that were flooded. Everyone waved to us and people didn’t even seem to mind the rain. They trudge through it in their cheap plastic sandals and slacks. Rishikesh was depressing and all industrial on the main bank. It's famous as the center of hatha yoga in the world. The Beatles went there and made it famous, and now a bunch of weird whit
e people come to "reach enlightenment" at one of the many ashrams along the Ganges. There was an open marble square with statues of Krishna advising Duryodhan and Shiva, and there were little statues of the other gods built into the tree-trunks. Cows and a few tourists were milling around. It bordered on the Ganges, with marble ghats descending into the water, today enveloped in fog. Across the way were the green hills and cloudy skies of the holy city. In the city I saw a doctor’s office offering ultrasounds, and it had a sign saying “Disclosure of sex of fetus is prohibited under law”. Why have ultrasounds, then? That’s a major problem in India, and interesting because even though the law prohibits it, people still find out the sex and abort female fetuses. We walked across a bridge over a large riverbed where I witnessed two 
pigs having sex (I was too slow on the draw for a picture) and then not 200 meters away a man defecating right in the open. Some squatter towns were built on the banks, made of tarp, stones, and sticks. The kids were all playing in the water and trying to catch fish with nets. We walked through some ritzy residential neighborhoods and an outdoor produce market. There was a lot of rain, and a mix of rainwater, gasoline, spit, urine, garbage, and shit flowed down the overflowing gutters. We took a 200R cab back to Haridwar to catch the cab back to Mussoorie, which took 2.5 hours. I was glad to get back, not have to deal with annoying fellow travelers, and eat some pizza for dinner. I give it to Monday night until I get sick from the Ganges.
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