Was that an elephant...

Traveling this far is not that hard. The mind is so protective that after awhile you can't remember where you are or what you are doing. It all blends together into airports and airplanes, plates of food and little boxes of orange juice that squirt all over your pants.

Our beloved friend Evan took us to the airport in her Saab 900S, and Rebecca in her brilliance,
had us at the Aisian Air counter when it opened and we were able to get exit row bulkhead seats with 6 feet of legroom. The flight to Seoul was not that full, so Rebecca was able to get her
own row to lie down and sleep. I worked and watched the flight monitor. When we went right over Valdez I went to the bathroom and flushed repeatedly so as to send a nice chunk of
blue ice down to Lance. It was clear when we went over Siberia and we could see the huge braided rivers and vast nothingness.

We arrvied Seoul too late for the city tours, but the ultra modern airport is like a huge shopping mall. We had massages, hot showers and interesting meals of kim chi fried rice and udon like soup. We arrived in Bangkok in the middle of the night and spent hours in the wrong part of the airport and came close to missing our flight when we discovered our bags had not been checked through to India. A kind Indian Air fellow found our bags, quite dizzy after going around in circles for the past five hours and got them checked through toBangalore.

Left Bankok in an amazing orange sunrise. Met a doctor from Eugene, Oregon on board who was off to travel in India after spending enough time with his in-laws in Thailand. He gave us great detailed information of places to go and where to stay when we return. He decided to join us to Mysore. After going through the exhausting customs process in Bangalore, ("Are these your bags? Good, welcome to India!") we stepped out of the terminal into the tropical brightness and the wall of sound. Horns are made for honking, and all of India honked us a welcome. Bangalore was a gridlock of cars and people and noise and color and sun. Thankfully, our teacher David had sent a man to pick us up and there was a smiling man in the crowd holding a sign reading "Mr. Frank". We were saved. We piled into his tiny Indian made car, rakishly lashing my Filson bag to the roof. Off into the river of people, bikes, scooters, cars, buses and trucks.

Any spare road is used. In any direction. 15 feet of empty road in the on-coming lane? Might as well use that until the moment before the horn blarring head-on with that truck before swerving back in your lane, where there is no room. No problem, just honk and head for a smaller vehicle. We drove through the mass of the Bangalore traffic for hours, close enough to touch the cars or people with your hand on each side of the car. Dream-like we passed an elephant carrying wood in its trunk and people on its back. Then out into the lush country with women harvesting and bundling rice by hand, women building the road by hand. A basket of stones at a time. Finally, after four and half hours we entered Mysore.

Thankfully we had a place to go. After two daze straight traveling, we were seriously fried and disoriented. We put our bags in our room at Chandra House, showered and went for a walk in our neighborhood. Out of the masses zoomed David and Julie (wonderful yogini/musician friend from Bend) on motorcylces and they whisked us off to drink juice from fresh coconuts under a big tree.

We made it. We were safe, we were in Mysore and found by our friends. All was well. All is well.
Blessings.

fwgh2o