One time we got in the back of a strangers van...

Didn’t your mama ever tell you not to talk to strangers? Didn’t she also tell you to never get in the back of a strangers van? During our lifetimes we end up doing lots of things our mamas tell us not to do. Intentionally or not, it’s part of life, and learning. What will really happen if I go against a certain piece of advice or break a certain rule? Half the time we do it out of curiosity, the other half out of pure stubbornness. Think about how many times someone told you something was hot and not to touch it yet you touched it anyway because for some reason we don’t believe its hot until we get burned.

A common theme of our travels has been to not listen so much to what other people say we can, and more so can’t do in India.  Perhaps it sounds ignorant, naive, just plain stupid, crazy, or all of the above, and for any other person it just might be. Perhaps it’s just asking to get “burned” so to speak. For us, this rule of not listening so much to what we can’t do has treated us very well, resulting not in hot burns but rather cool experiences.  We learned early on that people are very quick to tell you that you can’t do something when they themselves haven’t even done it. Now, these neigh Sayers all have good intentions and are usually just looking out for our safety but there are some things you simply have to experience for yourself to truly learn. 

This rule of not listening so much to the neigh-sayers applies especially to hitchhiking, something I’d never done until coming to India.  Early on in our India travels we were eager to give hitchhiking a go, not to save money (public transport in India is probably cheaper than anywhere in the world) but for fun and for the challenge of seeing if we could really do it.

 Whenever presenting this idea to any of our new Indian friends they were very quick to say we couldn’t do that. No disrespect to them, but how could they know if they themselves had yet to try?

These neigh-sayers had all positive intentions but had never hitchhiked in their own country, only going off of prejudices and preconceived notions.  When I think about it, I’ve never hitchhiked in my own country for the some of the same reasons as well as other technical reasons but that’s a different story.

Taking a calculated risk, following strong gut feelings and that natural curiosity and stubbornness to prove the neigh-sayers wrong, we gave Indian hitchhiking a try within our second week in the country.  Sure enough, we caught a ride in the back of a little vegetable truck down a mountain from Kodaikanal within a few minutes of sticking out our thumbs and flashing some cheesy smiles.

The rest is history.

Hitchhiking has become one of my favorite parts of traveling.  As they say, its not so much about the destination and more so the journey. Hitchhiking through India makes it a hell of a  fun journey. It’s comparable to fishing. Some days you get a lot of bites some days not so much. Some places and times are better than others. Sometimes you get big ones, sometimes-small ones, and occasionally you get that real special big catch.  During our Himalayan hitch there were several “mountable” catches but one big one that really stands out to us.

Day 10 of the Himalayan Hitch; we had had a long day of hitching the day before, pitching our tent, boiling some potatoes and onions over our little fire for dinner like real cowboys.  We awoke in our undersized tent in a field on the side of the highway near a city called Chittorgarh. Cold, halfway rested, and eager to get back on the road we packed up quick and found a good hitchin’ spot on the side of North Highway 58. The cars and trucks weren’t biting as much as normal this morning. After 30 minutes or so of strange looks from passer byes we got a bite, quickly reeling it in and trying to explain our situation.

One of the few phrases we know in Hindi is “me heni dega” Which roughly translates to “I don’t have money, or I can’t pay.”

 I’m not entirely sure. 

The ride we had reeled in was a plain white van with no windows in the back and the front seats full.  It was one of those rides where our trusty gut feelings made us hesitant.

“Should we get in the back of this strangers van?”

Everything I’d been taught about strangers in elementary school screamed NOO! Everything I’d learned in India quickly smothered those screams and after double-checking that we wouldn’t be expected to pay we got in the back of that plain white windowless van.  Iron bars separated us from the cab where the driver and an Indian man and woman (also catching a ride) sat.  There were three other Indians in the back of the van. There were two men wrapped up in shawls sitting on cardboard and another person asleep under a blanket that we assumed was a woman.  We shut the door behind us; relieved to see it could be opened from the inside (just in case), and were on our way with ride number one of day 10. The two men in the back with us greeted us with smiles. 

“From?” one of them asked. 

“America.” We answered.

 “Name, name?” they asked.

 “Joe and Mike.”

It was clear this was about the extent of their English, and by now we were used to these types of interactions and expected it to be an average ride.  Spotting Joe’s Ukulele in his pack, one of the men pointed and said “Guitar”.

 “Ukulele!” Joe corrected, and they repeated what he had said.

He played and sang a quick little song for them. This happens often and helps the mood and awkward silences a lot. After his song though the two men quickly got bored, cuddled up in their shawls and laid down to nap on their cardboard mats.  It seemed like it was going to be a rather long boring ride, but it would take us all the way to Jaipur where we were eager to link up with a couch surfing host and sleep somewhere other than our cold tent. With no side windows to take in any view we pulled out our books: Barefoot Soldier, and The Biography of Jim Morrison. There we sat riding along, reading in the back of a van as three Indians napped around us.

Typical day in India for us by now.

Taking a break from reading I noticed that the person sleeping under the blanket in front of me who we assumed was a woman was wearing an old pair of Vans skateboard shoes. Not the typical footwear of Indians.

“Maybe its some hitchhiking skater kid” I imagined.

Keep in mind that this mystery person had been asleep under their blanket in the back of the van since before we had even hopped in.

 A few minutes later as I’m trying to figure out this mystery person, they emerge from their slumber. An old, skinny, unshaven Indian man with a curling mustache pops his head out from under his blanket. He looked at me with the most confused look on his face. I waved and smiled. He took a long intensely confused look at Joe, then back at me, then, with almost a shrug of a look, as if he was too tired to figure out whom these new white strangers were, he snuggled up under his blanket and fell back asleep.

Joe hadn’t even noticed.

 I smiled big.

 Just that little event alone made that ride a good one, well worth it.

 Yet another little story to laugh about later on. 

A little later, with our noses in our books the napping men arose from their slumber one after another.  When the mystery man awoke again, he looked at us and quickly turned to his friends to ask what I assume was something like “Who the heck are these guys, and when did they get here? Have I been out that long?”

His friends laughed and gave him an answer. He seemed satisfied with their response and lit a beady (little brown Indian cigs). One of the other men did the same.

We intrigued them.

We put down our books as they attempted to engage in somewhat of a conversation with the little English they knew. They tried to talk to us in Hindi for a little bit, which we always find amusing because they go on talking as if we know what they’re saying and we just smile and shake our heads. 

When they stop talking we just say “Hindi neigh” meaning we don’t speak Hindi.

They say “Ahhh ingle, ingle ohhh.”

 We then share the few Hindi phrases we know including a couple curse words our Indian college friends in Bangalore taught us. The men laughed hysterically when they figured out the butchered phrase we had attempted to say. For some reason it’s really funny to hear foreigners say curse words in a language not native to them.

It’s that natural silliness of people that I love, and Indians can be real silly, in a good way.

 The next hour or so basically consisted of Joe taking on the role of English teacher.

 They’d point to an article of clothing or our backpacks or something, Joe would say what it was in English, they’d repeat it, he’d correct them if they mispronounced it, they’d say it until Joe said good then onto the next article of clothing.

Joe pointed to his sock. “Sock “ he said in a teacher like manner.

 “Suck” they said back.

“No, sOck”” he corrected.

“Soak!”

Close enough.

The mini lesson went on, going through all our articles of clothing, and moving on to parts of the face and so on.

Joe should have had a little white board and pointer stick to help our Indian friends who sat attentively, eager to learn, occasionally taking long drawls on their beadies.

The van came to a quick stop.

“Ah this is the part where things go south.” 

Nope, just a chai stop.

 

When riding in India chai breaks are frequent. We rarely ride for more than two consecutive hours without our driver pulling over for a chai break. They absolutely love their sweet boiled milk, extra sugar version of chai tea. 

Our new friends bought us chai and crackers. We soon realized that they were all under the impression that we had no money at all.  It was too difficult to try to explain our challenge and budget so we gratefully accepted their generosity and made mental notes to pay it forward double fold.   

We all piled back into the van. Our friends had bought a little Indian trail mix accompanied with two little bottles of what we assumed to be the “local liquor” topped with red caps and labels slapped on crooked with Hindi text. 

They offered us some of the trail mix and the hand sanitizer smelling spirit.

 Being that I’m under 21 I declined of course.

 Joe, being of age accepted a small bit mixed with water.  

Another thing I love about Indians is their willingness to share.

They are very quick to offer whatever they are eating (or smoking or drinking) no matter how big or small the quantity.  I wouldn’t be surprised to be offered a couple chews of some guy’s gum or a bite of a half eaten samosa.

 The local spirit must’ve been rather potent, as our friends seemed to get a little loose from the small bottles as they chain-smoked their little beadies.

We continued with some more English lessons, and had quite a merry time with lots of laughs at each others foreign antics.

They wouldn’t let us film but the vans wearing old man really wanted his photo taken.  He sat up straight, fixing his gray hair, eyebrows, and spent extra time making sure his mustache was curled just right. Joe pleased the old man by taking several pictures.

 

 If we had a dollar for each time an Indian guy asked to be photographed we’d be able to travel for another year.

Unfortunately our new friends stop came up soon.  Still under the impression that we had no money, one of the men even gave us twenty rupees insisting we accept it for the next chai break. This man obviously wasn’t too well off as he was hitchhiking a ride in the back of a van just as we were but without hesitation sacrificed from what little he had to ensure we could have chai. We tried to give it to the driver as a tip but he wouldn’t accept it, and wouldn’t let us pay for the next chai stop with it either, buying us yet another cup of chai and a delicious pastry snack.

The rest of the ride was relaxing, we even got upgraded to sit in the front where we could finally take in the views as another Indian man took our place in the back, just as intrigued with us as our friends before.

 At one point as we neared Jaipur we even got pulled over randomly by a police officer. The officer took the keys out of the ignition and made our driver get out to show all his papers and registration and what not. 

“Perhaps, we’re unknowingly participating in a large scale drug smuggling operation. That would explain the van. Nahhh”

 Our driver didn’t get arrested and we continued on our way.

Our ride in the plain white van lasted nearly 6 hours in total and took us all the way to the “Pink City” of Jaipur. Our driver even made the extra effort to pull over to the side and point us in the right direction, once again refusing the twenty rupees we had received from our friend.

We shook hands, showing much gratitude and headed into Jaipur.

 We were fortunate enough to spend a few days in Jaipur with a couple most generous couch surfing hosts. We also were coincidentally there for what must be one of the worlds largest kite festivals.  

Man, they are so serious about kites there.

 Thousands of kites flew over The Pink City for the kite festival.  Joe and I got to fly a kite for maybe a combined 10 seconds. We’d get to hold the string for a couple seconds at a time before our young Indian friends would take the string back in fear that we’d lose or damage their kite.

What an amazing experience, yet another story in itself.

Now everybody go out to the closest highway and hop into the back of the first van that pulls over for you and hope for a similar experience! Best of luck, and I hold no responsibility if something bad happens.  In all seriousness though, had we listened to all the people telling us what we can’t do we would never have had that memorable ride in the back of that van, we would never had hitchhiked, our journey would not have been nearly as exciting, and we wouldn’t have experienced so much generosity. By taking calculated risks, following our gut, ignoring what the neigh-sayers say we can’t do, we instead experienced something that we certainly can do. We learned from our own experience and were fortunate enough for it to result in many very positive results. If we always listen and accept what we can’t do we will never know the extent to all the amazing things that we indeed can do!

As the fake Nikes with the crooked swooshes sold on the streets of India say, Just Doit!

Lucky Day Number Seven of the Himalayan Hitch

Lucky Number seven. I don’t consider myself extremely superstitious but Day number seven of our Himalayan Hitch felt like a hell of a lucky day or one of extremely good fortune, karma, or blessings. Whatever it was it really embodied much of which our whole Himalayan Hitch was about: an experiment in human kindness.

           

By Day seven we had gotten into the groove of things with our budget. We knew how much we could afford, what would give us the most “bang for our rupee”, and we had really honed in on our Hitch Hiking skills, sometimes able to hail a ride just through sheer eye contact. The day before we had successfully hitched out of Mumbai, hitching much later than usual.

Walking through a high-way-town we stopped for a small glass of perhaps our favorite thing in India: Sugar cane juice.  As we waited for our juice to be squeezed, a guy at a nearby butcher stand was slicing the necks of squawking chickens, casually tossing them in a crate for them to bleed out to later be prepared to eat. He smiled as he continued to stare at us, talking to his friend, most likely commenting on Joe’s beautiful blonde locks. We drank our subpar yet still delicious sugarcane and went on our way. 

           

I saw a young boy no more than four years young slowly reach out and touch Joe’s arm with one little finger as we walked by. The look on his face said that it was the first time he had ever touched a white person.

Only in India.

Later that night we caught a ride with a trucker who said little to nothing, only smiled. We spent our remaining rupees on a modest dinner and the trucker sat nearby. It was late and we decided to bed down for the night. As we went to leave we had to politely but firmly decline our truckers persistent offers for us to sleep in the cab of his truck with him. I’m sure he meant well but we’d rather be on our own. We camped in our tent for the first time in a field on the side of the highway.

           

We woke up on Lucky Day Seven to realize the field we had camped in was right next to somebody’s little house. A family sat and stared at the strange white men emerging from their undersized orange tent. We smiled and waved. The family and their goats just stared as we quickly packed up and hit the road quickly hailing a ride in a sleek Mercedes.

             

We caught a couple different rides that morning but nothing too eventful. The luck really started happening around 11:00 a.m. when we reeled in a gold minivan driven by an older to middle aged man, gray bearded, tall and slightly heavy. He rolled down the window. Prepared with hand gestures, slow English, and our best pronunciation of the next town we wanted to go, we were expecting the driver to know little to no English. The biggest sigh of relief came over us as the driver spoke perfect English.

“Where are you trying to go?”

We told him Ahmedabad. He was going to a town a little ways before that and without hesitation he said we could ride with him. Joe took shotgun, naturally, and I took the back.

One of the biggest struggles with hitchhiking in India is the language barrier. Trying to tell drivers where we’re trying to go, that we cant pay, and trying to even to start to explain our challenge was exhausting and at times, pointless.

           

Our new friend introduced himself as Muhammad. The feeling of relief and relaxation of riding with a fluent English speaking person was unbelievable.  Muhammad could best be described as a big guy who was really kind and soft on the inside.  Our ride was smooth and enjoyable. Muhammad told us about how he had worked in Europe but was from India. We told him about our challenge. It would prove to be the only time we could fully explain our challenge with our ride fully comprehending it. We chatted it up with Muhammad as we rode, talking about how we had made it to where he picked us up by hitchhiking and strangers’ generosity.

More often than not when telling other Indians how we hitchhiked, riding with truckers and total strangers, they’ll almost scold us saying we shouldn’t do that.

There are so many bad people out there.

We could get robbed

or hurt

or killed

 or on and on with the pessimism.

The thing is, we have yet to have any trouble with these “bad people” who are supposedly so common. Either we just got extremely lucky, coincidentally missing the “bad people” and only somehow exclusively interacting with good people

OR

Maybe, just maybe, the world’s not so bad after all.

Muhammad was the first Indian to really agree with us on these views. Speaking with a sense of pride in his country he explained how India is much safer than people think. Like too many countries, places and people, India gets a bad rap sometimes.  He agreed with what we were doing and didn’t say anything about how we could get hurt, instead talking about how there really are so many good people.

He even got so into the topic at one point that he reached for his glove box.

 “Is he about to pull out a glock?”

No that wouldn’t make sense with the conversation we were having.

Instead, he pulled out a big wad of Indian cash.

Just as gangster.

He explained how he could walk around with that, no problem, saying how he didn’t have to worry about it getting stolen or getting robbed or anything like that. A bit of an extreme but the message was received.  It felt so good for an Indian to agree with us, knowing there’s a lot more good in this world than people think.  

The conversation progressed to other things, including Muhammad explaining that the big wad of cash was because he was going to buy something nice for his wife.

A little after noon, Muhammad pulled over at a roadside restaurant and bought us lunch and tea. What a blessing. Free meals are always good, but they were especially appreciated during our challenge when our meals were often shared and not very often could we afford three full meals a day. We had eaten a small breakfast, now a nice free lunch, and we would still be in budget for a light dinner.

Just a couple hours before, we didn’t know Muhammad. We were complete strangers yet he saw we were in need and helped us out. Muhammad went above and beyond to feed us, and even shared our views on the true goodness of the people of India and the world in general.

After our lunch Muhammad drove us another 30 minutes further. We gave him much thanks, a hug, and a handshake and went our separate ways smiling.

We were hailing our rides quick and easy that day.

After Muhammad we hailed a ride in a big truck with a smiley Indian trucker who spoke zero English but he sure did smile. 

After the trucker we caught a nearly four-hour ride in the back of a pick up.  This ride was fun especially because there were other Indians riding in the back with us. They’d ride for a bit until their stop then some new ones would get in, all curious about the two white guys just casually riding in the back of this truck with them.

 After the pickup we caught a ride in a car with two young guys somewhere around our age.  They spoke a little English, played some surprisingly bumpin’ good Hindi tunes, and drove fast, weaving around trucks and other cars, and even driving on the shoulder for a good portion of our ride. The guy in the passenger seat who wasn’t much older than me had said that he worked for the highway engineering or something, and validated himself when they got through the “VIP” lane of the tollbooth by flashing some papers.

Their stop was just before the town we were trying to get to, Ahmedabad. They had already given us a ride yet went even farther out of their way to get us a ride the rest of the way. Possibly using his authority as a mysterious highway engineer, one of the guys quickly flagged down a truck, which happened to be going to the city we were trying to get to. We said much thanks and were once again on our way.

We had an enjoyable ride in the back of the truck watching the sunset as Joe played his ukulele. We arrived in Ahmedabad around 8:30 p.m., a little tired but spirits still high after our ride with Muhammad. We had gotten 6 rides that day, slightly above average

We walked into the nearest restaurant, a little place with an open kitchen and faded green, grease stained walls.

Udupi’s

We checked out the menu. We were delighted to see that we could afford to buy the 60 rupee Thali meal to share. We checked the price and the woman managing the restaurant where we were the only customers said that was the old price and the new price was 70 rupees. We could afford it but it would clean us out for the day. We ordered it and sat rehydrating on the free water as a young Indian kid and a young Nepali kid prepared our modest meal. At first they brought us each a meal but we had to regretfully decline and split  just the one we could afford.  We began to split and eat our little delicious meal served on a metal lunch tray.

We’re not sure exactly what happened within the next few minutes, but we’re convinced some sort of  wave of good luck had been cast over us. We had already gotten a free meal earlier in the day, but we didn’t think our luck would extend past that.

But sure enough, it extended, far past that.  

Not 10 minutes earlier we were having to dispute a difference of 10 rupees on the cost of our meal with the women who ran the restaurant and next thing we know the same woman comes over with the extra meal we had to decline and gives it to us. We had to double, even triple check that she was giving it to us for free.  She assured us it was free, and that we are her guests, and that we didn’t have to pay for anything.

But wait, there’s more!

As we polish off the second meal she brings out a big dosa (basically a big crepe typed thing stuffed with potato and served with spicy sauce) insisting that we have it for free. We of course wouldn’t decline free food, and gratefully accepted it, still in awe at what was happening.  We’re finishing off the first dosa and the lady- who I unfortunately can’t recall the name of do in part to its difficulty to pronounce- offers to give us another dosa. We accept. As we’re eating the second dosa, thinking that there was no way anything could top this, our most generous hostess comes with two glasses of fresh cold sugar cane juice.

Our absolute favorite!

We were in heaven, bellies full of our favorite things, and still almost in a state of shock trying to figure out why and how all this generosity had been blessed upon us.

After our completely free feast of a meal, we sat in the restaurant to charge the camera battery and figure out where we could pitch our tent for the night. The next hour or so was spent befriending and more or less bonding with the lady and the two young guys working there. Joe played his ukulele and sang. This delighted them. When they saw Joe’s computer they asked to see “American pictures”. Joe had none, so his Australia pictures would have to do. They loved all of it. We had just been given a feast for free, and we were having a good time with our new friends as the new kings of Ahmedabad but we knew our reign would soon have to end as we’d have to find a place to pitch our Scout Jr. Tent.

As if the woman was reading our minds, she came over and asked where we were staying. We said we’d be camping in our tent somewhere.

 “You can stay here.” The woman quickly stated without hesitation.

 “ We can stay right here in the restaurant?” We asked smiling ear to ear. 

She then explained that we could pitch our tent across the street on top of the other restaurant that her husband owned.

We had been given rides all day, a free lunch, a feast for dinner complete with our favorite juice, and now our problem as to where we would rest our weary heads was solved.  

We sat a little longer in the restaurant journaling; high on the generosity we had been nearly overloaded with. I had never experienced so many acts of pure kindness in such a short period of time.

As the restaurant began to close around 9:30 we were led across the street to the other livelier, nicer restaurant where we sat waiting to be told where to go with our bags and trusty tent.

As we were sitting there a man who may have been the woman’s husband or just a random guy, offered us Manchurian. Not sure what it was, if it was free, and already pretty full, we politely declined, but the man insisted and within a few minutes a dish of veg Manchurian was placed in front of each of us along with a fresh bottle of 7-Up, complete with a bendy straw.

We quickly discovered it to be one of our new favorite foods, gobbling it up within a few short minutes. 

It was like we were the newly arrived kings of Ahmedabad and everyone was eager to offer us something.

As we sat stuffed and in our food comas we quickly learned our king status went beyond free food and onto celebrity photos. The same guy that had given us the Manchurian came around us with a group of people and a young girl explaining that it was her birthday and to wish her happy birthday. We gladly wished her Happy Birthday and both had to take several photos shaking the girls hand.

The type of photos you’d take with the president.

Completely stuffed, still in shock, we were led up a spiral staircase to the roof of the restaurant where we could pitch our tent. The woman even came up to say goodnight to us and let us know that we could come back to her restaurant in the morning for free breakfast.

We said goodnight, gave much thanks to all our new friends and all those of our new city and slept like babies, on the roof amongst our people.

We had awoke that morning in a field on the side of the highway with hungry bellies and not a single idea of how much or how little we’d get to eat that day. We didn’t know where we’d bee sleeping, or what city we’d end up in that night.

We certainly didn’t know Muhammad.

And, I still can’t even pronounce Ahmedabad correctly.

Yet, thanks to the kind and generous hearts of complete strangers of India we were given six free rides, two free meals, one of which was a feast including our favorite drink, and a safe place to spend the night.

I had originally dubbed this day, Lucky Day Number Seven, yet as I conclude this story, I am led to go against my Irish beliefs and accept that this day had nothing to do with luck.

Rather, Day Seven of The Himalayan Hitch, intended to be an experiment, testing the depths of human kindness, was simply an experience, accepting the truth of human nature.

Let it Shine!

It is amazing how much adventure and new experiences you can squeeze into a couple short weeks. Within the past 14 days we've made our way to the beaches of the bengal bay, mountains of the western and eastern Ghats, the beaches of the Arabian Sea, and currently are in Madurai. One of my favorite parts of this grand adventure has been not knowing what the next week, day or even hour might hold. Waking up and having no clue where we'll be staying that night or even what town we'll be in or how we'll get to the next unknown place allows for so many things to happen that otherwise wouldn't if we followed a precise plan and schedule. It allows for living in the now, absorbing the present, and eliminates the stress of worrying too much about the future and things yet to come.

         As much as I would like to include every detail about every place we've been and all the things that happened each day, this post is going to focus on one amazing day in particular. To catch you up and for the sake of staying in chronological order I will include all the places and some highlights of those places we journeyed before and after this.

         As you know we were in Bangalore, India a little over two weeks ago. We made a late change of plans to make Pondicherry our next destination. Pondicherry was a nice change of scenery from the big city of Bangalore. It was a smaller beach town and former French colony on the Bay of Bengal. Some of the highlights of Pondicherry included couch surfing with a young Indian guy best described as an Indian version of a Cali surfer, exploring a small coastal village, swimming and wrestling on Paradise Beach, crashing on a moped, and visiting a very cool community called Auroville (very interesting, look it up).

 

           From Pondicherry we took an overnight bus to the famous mountain town of Kodaikanal. Once in Kodaikanal we explored a very cool pine forest, caught some amazing views from dolphin nose and echo rocks, and experienced what it is like to be c list celebrities. The pine forest was full of young Indian students on field trips. We couldn't walk ten yards without being approached for a picture. The monkeys were also cool, and it was rather chili and extremely foggy due to the fact that we were pretty high up in the mountains. We spent a full day in Kodaikanal, departing the morning after we arrived. This is where our amazing day began.

         We set out that morning after a solid breakfast of idly and coffee with the destination of Munnar in mind. Against the advice and opinions of our Indian couch surfing hosts and much of the internet, we decided to try hitchhiking in India for the first time. We walked a little ways down the mountain before finding a good spot to stick out our white thumbs and flash our big smiles in hopes for a ride. Not even thirty minutes had passed before we reeled in a possible hitch. A small fruit truck with an empty bed had pulled over and agreed to let us ride in the back. We weren't sure how far or where they were headed but being that it was a good 50 km's down the mountain until any turns, we were off to a great start! "Three hours my ass!" we thought  referring to an internet post saying it would take at least three hours to get a ride, and very difficult at that. So there we were riding in the back of a truck down a mountain in India with big smiles on our faces waving to Indians as they passed by waving and smiling themselves at the sight of a couple white guys just chilling in the back of a fruit truck coming down the mountain. We rode for a little over an hour until we were finally dropped off at a bus stop in a small town at the base of the mountain.

         Still high off our first Indian hitch we decided to try to reel in another one. We walked through the small town until we were on its outskirts and found another promising spot along the highway to stick out our thumbs. This time it took slightly longer to reel in a ride but still within thirty minutes. This time it was a big one. What I can best describe as an Indian trucker pulled over in a big old faded red sort of dump truck. Due to the fact that our destination was pretty far away and because it made for easier explanation, we would just tell the drivers the next town on the route towards the destination we were headed. We explained that we were headed towards Theni (pronounced like Tenny) He smiled and gestured for us to get in the cab. We climbed on in the spacious cab and introduced ourselves as we headed off towards Theni with big smiles on our faces, proud and excited at how well hitchhiking in India was going. We tried to make sure he was going towards the same town and eventually understood that he was accept he was pronouncing Theni correctly. We tend to mispronounce nearly every single town we go to and this town was no different.  The driver smiled and corrected us each time we mispronounced the name obviously very humored at the way we were saying it. It was a back and fourth of Joe saying it like (ten eye) almost in a country accent, sounding close to the way Forrest Gump would say Jenny but with a T instead of a J. Once we figured out we were referring to the same town only we were mispronouncing the name it was all good. We made what little conversation we could with the driver and enjoyed our ride towards Theni. The ride with the Indian trucker remains as one of my favourite so far. His big old red truck was adorned with Hindu religious items and pictures. We sat in the spacious cab enjoying the ride listening to the Indian music playing loudly through the speakers. When I woke up that morning I could not have even imagined such an experience would happen that day but it did, so did many more, and we were loving it. The trucker was able to get us all the way to a town just before Theni. He dropped us off at a bus-stand just like every ride we get does. We said thank you and the driver gave us the "Indian Head nod" and a smile and drove off.

          

       

  (The Indian Head nod or shake rather is an interesting action or gesture we have observed that pretty much all Indians do. They usually do it when saying okay like when they understand something or approve of something. It looks very similar to someone shaking their head and shrugging their shoulders like they don't know so it was very confusing. At first we couldn't tell if it was a yes or a no or an I don't know. We have come to the conclusion that it’s like a head nod yes and is often accompanied by an "okay". It can best be described as when a bobble head shakes its head side to side. Just an interesting funny observation we've made that I bought was worth sharing. It’s very cool to see how not only the spoken language but also physical language and gesture meanings can differ.

        

         Anyways, the Indian trucker went on his way probably still chuckling to himself at the way we said Theni. We walked less than a couple hundred yards before finding another spot to catch another ride. Within five minutes of holding our thumbs out we reeled in another one. This time, a small fruit truck driven by a young man about Joe's age pulled over. We explained we were going to Theni, pronouncing it correctly this time. The young man gave us the Indian head nod and helped us load our packs into the back of the truck. We crammed into the cab of the truck where my leg quickly fell asleep. We were able to make a little bit more conversation this time, as the driver spoke a little better English. Not the most comfortable ride but definitely enjoyable. I can't remember his name, as Indian names are often difficult to even pronounce let alone remember so ill just say our friend. Our friend got us all the way to Theni where we were once again dropped at a bus station. With a little help from Google maps and some locals we made our way through the city towards the highway that led to Munnar. Theni turned out to be a good-sized city and we were walking for over an hour before getting out of the taxi zone. We made some halfway efforts to catch a ride but to no avail. We decided to walk a little farther where we saw a sign. It was a sign, a good sign, a green sign. On that sign were strange letters I could not understand. Below those strange letters it said Munnar. Heyoohh! We were headed the right way! As long as we were going in the right direction it was always a win.

         We were maybe halfway to Munnar, if that at this point. We turned and headed up the highway that pointed to Munnar. We walked a few minutes and found another good spot to thumb it. Not twenty minutes passed before a small truck pulled over, just like the first one. We hopped in the back and off we went. Riding in the back of the little trucks is always very fun because we get to stretch out, enjoy the view, and wave to all the people passing. It also makes for a funny scene when you have to pee and you attempt to pee off the back as it’s speeding down a bumpy road. This truck took us a good ways until the next small town. We exchanged Indian head nods and continued on our way. We walked through this small town as some young children followed us saying "photo! photo!" We stopped for a quick photo shoot with our young fans then continued out of the city.  Once again we found a good spot and stuck out our thumbs. We reeled in another quick ride, this time in a car. One of the men in the car spoke English well and told us he had just come back from visiting California. We conversed with him for the short ride to the next town at the base of another set of mountains.

        

         We were dropped at the bus-stand yet again and continued our march to Munnar. A long windy road up a very tall mountain lay ahead of us. Nightfall would be coming soon. We were contemplating finding some trees to set our hammocks up for the night. We decided to give it one more hour before calling it quits for the day and bedding down. The cars and trucks coming up the mountain weren't very frequent and usually full or just taxis. We would walk a little ways then thumb it for a few minutes then walk a little ways more and thumb it for a few minutes and continued to do so for nearly an hour. We were close to calling it quits for the day when we saw a SUV approaching. We flashed our biggest smiles and stuck out our most welcoming thumbs. As the SUV approached we realized it was completely packed full of Indian men and their luggage, so we gave up on that one yet it still pulled over where we were standing. Several Indian men all got out. It made me think of a bunch of people all crammed into a little clown car. We knew they couldn't fit us into their car but realized they just wanted a break to stretch and most importantly take a bunch of photos with us. One man approached us and explained he was a lawyer and gave us his card. We've amassed a good collection of random Indian's business cards by now. He seemed to be the main guy or leader of the group and the rest of the men seem to almost be like his entourage. We explained that we were trying to get a ride to Munnar. As we were taking one of at least a dozen pictures with them Joe quickly stepped out to try to wave down a passing truck. One of the men in the entourage happened to be a police officer and was for some reason in full uniform and armed. He waved at Joe to stop as if we shouldn't be doing that. The lawyer then explained that his Police officer friend was going to help us get a ride. We weren't sure if he was going to send us a taxi or a patrol car or another friend or what. As the next car approached up the mountain the police officer took a firm stance in the middle of the road holding out his hand halting the car in front of him.  He talked to the two men in the car who had two empty seats in the back. We still to this day are not sure if the officer forced the men to give us a ride by threatening them or if they simply agreed out of generosity or just a little of both. It all happened very quickly. Before we knew it we were in the car riding up the mountain towards Munnar. We introduced ourselves to the men who appeared to be a few years older than us. One of them was a sort of big guy who introduced himself to us as Shine, the other had an Indian name I couldn't remember but they were both very nice guys who seemed more or less happy about giving us a ride as well as a chance to talk to us and practice their English. They were both from a small town in Kerala, the state we would be crossing into at the top of the mountain. One of its motto's is "Kerala, God's own country." Joe said that, and they told us they were Christian flashing the rosaries around their necks. We continued up the mountain but soon pulled over to take a break. They of course got a couple quick pictures with us and we continued on our way up.

          It was dark by the time we got to the border atop the mountain. We made some small talk about our families and what we do back home and stuff like that. "You know Bob Marley?' they asked at one point amidst a long period of silence. "Yes, we know Bob Marley." we replied "We like Bob Marley" they explained. We thought this was funny then it went back to riding in silence for a while. We rode for a couple hours winding down the mountain.  We eventually realized we had missed a turn towards Munnar and that we were headed to a different town. Shine explained that we were headed to a town called Adimali before Munnar. We eventually made it to Adimali where our new friends gave us two options. They said we could give them all our money or we couldn’t and they would kill us. Just kidding! There options were that we could take a bus from Adimali to Munnar or we could go to their town called Thodupuzza and stay with Shine for the night. I’m not sure what your mom told you as a kid but mine always said to ride with strangers and always accept when they offer to take you to a town you have never heard of and stay with them for the night. In all seriousness Shine seemed like a genuine guy and knowing we could have a place to stay and a free meal sounded a lot better than taking a late bus and not knowing where the heck we could stay.

        

         The ultimate influence in decisions like this come down to the fact that it was a once in a lifetime opportunity and it’s the best possible way to meet new people and experience the culture and life of the people firsthand. We accepted Shine’s generous offer and headed toward his small town with his friend. It was another couple of hours before we would reached Shine’s house. He explained to us that he lived in a house with his sister, brother in law, and five children, two of which were his own. He explained that his wife was teaching in Australia and that he was an engineer here.  As we got closer to his house he asked us what we liked to eat. We named off a few of the Indian foods we liked and he called his sister up and told her to prepare a meal for us. They were clearly very hospitable people. We finally arrived at his house around 9:30 p.m. We removed our shoes at the door and came inside where we were introduced to his sister, Shiny (yes it’s a brother and sister named Shine and Shiny), her husband, and all the children. The only name of any of the children I can recall was Shine’s son Steven. It made me think of Nacho Libre and the character named Steven because of the way Shine said it, and also the fact that with his mustache Shine slightly resembled Nacho Libre and lived in a small village and was Catholic and what not. Anyways after meeting everyone we were shown to a room we could share and showered up. After showering the stank of a days worth of hitchhiking in India off, we sat down for dinner. Shiny brought out plate after plate of food. She had prepared a big plate of idly, a big bowl of rice, fruit, sambar, and several other dishes. I thought, “How can we eat all of this” then I remembered Shine was a big guy and would have no trouble finishing off what we couldn’t.  After eating until we were stuffed full of delicious Indian food Shiny brought out yet another plate. It appeared to me to be some sort of chocolates or fudge at first. “Buffalo liver?” we politely declined. No chocolates for me.  After dinner we sat down with Shine to get his opinions on where our next destination should be. Large pictures of Jesus and Mary adorned with giant rosaries and lights hung over our heads. After establishing Vagamon as our next destination we went to our room to sleep. I lay there for a bit trying to comprehend what all had happened that day and how we had ended up in Shine’s house nowhere close to our original destination. What an adventure the day had been.  That morning we were on top of a mountain in Kodaikanal where I was thinking we’d be taking a bus to Munnar later that day. It’s crazy how things work out like that.  It was a day I could never have imagined and surely won’t forget. I am confident we will have many more days like it as long as we just keep winging it!

         After waking up at Shines he took us to a bus-stand where he made sure to add us on Facebook before we departed. He helped us find the right bus towards Vagamon and off we went. The Indian buses are a whole other story in themselves I might tell you about later.

         We made it to Vagamon, which turned out to be very similar to Kodaikanal with way less tourists, lots of tea growing, a nice pine forest, some very cool waterfalls, and a cool mountain that we hiked up and lay on top as the foggy cloud cover engulfed us. It was a very peaceful place.

         From Vagamon we took a bus to Kumily/Tekhaddy where the Periyar National Tiger Reserve is. There we got a room that backed right up to the forest. We hiked up yet another mountain. We  also went on a guided “Bamboo rafting/ trekking tour through the tiger reserve. We saw some monkeys, lots of birds, wild bore and bison but no tigers. Our legs also got covered with tons of leaches as we were the only people in the group who wore shorts for the trek. Big mistake. Other than getting soaked, my blood getting sucked and my phone breaking it was still very fun.

         From Thekaddy we went to Allepey (Allapuzzha). One of the best parts of Allepey was the boat ride we took to get there. The boat was basically a school boat for the children who lived along the lake. It made for a fun ride talking to them along the way. Once in Allepey we visited the beach, seeing the Arabian Sea for the first time. It had a very nice beach, and I took a picture with an indian guy who put his hand on my butt for the picture. Very awkward…  that’s the second time that’s happened. Not sure what it means…

         After Allepey We didn’t have a very precise destination, just that we wanted to head south. We had a similar day to the day we met Shine. We had trouble hitching it but did catch a ride with a guy in a banana truck, which was cool. We eventually got a ride with a cool guy about our age that took us to Varkala beach where he was headed. It was the nicest beach we have been to so far, and there were lots of Europeans there.  We climbed a couple coconut trees and watched the fisherman pull in giant nets full of fish from the shore.

        

We hitched from Varkala to Trivandrum where we were planning on hitching farther inland but we had a few setbacks that led us to decide to go to Kovalem, a very nice beach town similar to Varkala. There we celebrated Thanksgiving by eating a lot of Chapattis and other delicious Indian food.

          

         We took a bus from Kovalem back to Trivandrum where we eventually caught a bus to Madurai. Something happened in Trivandrum that potentially could have messed up our whole trip but by some miracle all turned out good. I'll share the story of what happened in my next post. Anyways, we took an 8-hour train ride to Madurai where we will be flying out of to Sri Lanka. There is a huge temple here, I took a cows horn to the back the other day, and yesterday we visited a cool Gandhi museum.  We’re currently staying in a hotel located on “poop corner” as Joe has named it. pretty smelly but we cant complain. Life is good and we are blessed.  Tomorrow we head to Sri Lanka. I am very excited for what the next few weeks in Sri Lanka might hold, and hopefully will have some more cool stories to share with you soon. Until then, much love and peace out!