Honey Roasted T-Shirts

Date: Mon, 8 Jan 2001 23:03:16 -0800,

From:   Betty Yu wrote:

To: Jay Schneider

Subject: Betty Who?

Hi Jay!

It’s Betty. The one who used to hang out in your apt on Channing all the time, but rarely when you were there. I don’t know how you managed to escape from me all those months.

I’ve been fascinated by your travels and Colin throws me a bone every once in a while and forwards me one of your emails. I’ve read two so far. In the first, you were crossing the border of Cambodia in your flip-flops and in the second you had progressed to partying with drag queens in Thailand. I think I’m missing a few events in the middle there but I can’t be sure.

Well, you mentioned that you would like to see some friends in the next few weeks and I just wanted to see if you’d be interested in checking out Taiwan with Colin and me at the end of January. We’ll be there from Jan 23-Feb 2. We can offer free housing, free food, free tour guides, and company (which will cost you a small fee). It would be great to see you. I know Colin misses you a lot and what could be more surreal than a reunion in the Republic of China? We’ll be staying mostly with my grandparents who actually speak fluent Japanese and I’m sure would love meeting you.

I hope this email finds you well and gives you enough time to make plans to meet us. I will assist in any way possible.

Looking forward to possibly seeing you in Taiwan.

Love,

Betty

Date:    Wed, 10 Jan 2001 23:04:55 -0800 (PST)

From:   Jay Schneider

To:     Betty Yu

Subject:    Re: Betty Who?

Betty…hmmm…you’re that tall African man I met in France, right? Glad to hear from you, and hope you’re getting used to life with one leg.  

(now I’ve screwed myself, how do I make the transition into seriousness? I can of course use the ol’ “but seriously…” but I hesitate to use that because it implies that I think what preceded it was so brilliant and hilarious. see how complicated life gets?)  

Anyhoo, funny how the world works, I was actually thinking of you, yes YOU, Ms. BETTY, yesterday while on a train. I know, I know, I’ll give you a bit of time to recover from the fact that in my wild life of pure adventure and excitement (you’ve missed out on shaven heads, donut-stealing monkeys, toe-stomping camels, and erotic temple carvings in between Cambodia and the gay bars of Bangkok), I would have time to think of li’l ol’ you. But I did.  

Now that you’ve recovered from the initial feelings of joy and elation, you’re feelings are probably rapidly turning to those of fear, wondering, “why would Jay be thinking of me? Is he plotting some revenge for something I did long ago and far away which he can neither forgive, nor forget?”  

Okay, I’ll explain. On a train in Malaysia, see a group of people signing (not autographs, but communicating with their hands) and a train (ha-ha, “train”) of thought brought you to mind, and I turned to my travel-partner and said, “I knew someone who was fluent in ASL. This really nice tall African man I met in France…”  

But seriously…  

Timing’s a bit off, as I’ve set so many wheels in motion which would make heading to Taiwan, oh, so difficult and complicated. (where were you a week ago, when I had absolutely no clue as to which direction I should go.  

But, but, but…I AM seriously going to consider it, because I’d love to see you guys, and it would be a great chance to get there. I’ll think about it over the next few days and figure out whether I can make it a reality.  

Will contact again soon  

Rabid Monkey, over and out.  

P.S. — I’ll add you to my mailing updates so you won’t have to depend on the bone-throwing. Also, back-issues are available upon request

Date: Fri, 2 Feb 2001 06:12:06 -0800 (PST)

From: Jay Schneider

Subject: The Jay Luck Club

This update was made possible in part by Kenny Rogers, Amy Tan, and Dan Picciotto.

When we last left our hero…

I was about to board a train south to Malaysia with a beautiful dutch woman. So how did I end up in Taiwan on a nostalgic journey into a Chinese girl’s past and also becoming a Mah Jong Champion? And how do I manage to have my cake, and eat it, too? That’s what I hope to explain in this hastily-written update entitled “The Jay Luck Club”

Almost immediately from our Bangkok departure, I was glad to have Julie as a travel-mate. It’s great to have a partner not only for the company, but it’s easier to deal with the rigors and hassles of travel. For instance, while one person watches all the bags, the other is free and mobile to search for bus tickets, hotels, etc. It was also nice having late-night chat sessions when we felt like Kenny Rogers and the Gambler (they were ‘both too tired to sleep’). And it doesn’t hurt when your partner-in-crime is stunningly attractive.

After hanging out on the islands, and then spending 10(!) days in Bangkok, we both agreed it felt good to be “on the road again” (Willie, not Kenny, I know). Sometimes it feels good to strap on your pack, new day, new town, running for the next bus, being on the go, and this was our plan for the next 2 weeks. So after training our way to Butterworth, catching two buses, to get into the Cameron Highlands town of Tana Rata, we promptly dumped our bags, and stayed for a week.

Not that it was a bad decision. We arrived close to midnight, and after dark, in a strange town we knew nothing about, we were at the mercy of the handful of touts who met the bus. We put our trust in “Gil,” a bald-headed man with a goatee, who resembled a Malay Mr. Clean. It wasn’t so long ago that I shared both his profession and hairstyle, so I felt, perhaps we were kindred spirits. We made the right choice. He took us to the guesthouse he was living at, hill-top place at which the owner, Mr. Lee, made breakfast every morning. Tea was free all day, and there was a stack of late 80’s women’s magazines in the living room. The homey atmosphere, and perhaps my need to catch up on Cosmo (I missed the June ’87 “Tips to Catch, and Keep your Man” and the May ’89 “Lose the weight to look HOT at the beach this summer!” issues, gave us no desire to rush out of Tana Rata, and so we didn’t.

The mornings (the ones we didn’t sleep through, anyway) usually gave us great views of the surrounding hills and tea plantations. We were in no rush, sitting outside with the other guests, drinking endless cups of tea, while I searched for my name on Elle’s “Top 10 Men of the Year!” In the afternoon, we filled with walks and hikes in the surrounding jungle-hills, and a visit to the local tea plantation. It was still the rainy season, so sometimes our outdoor adventures got a little muddy, or we’d simply retreat to Mr. Lee’s and Seventeen Magazine.

And it wasn’t a bad place to spend my birthday, either. Of course, I have no wild and crazy stories of the red-light variety to tell, but it was a mellow, relaxing way to spend an otherwise insignificant birthday (by that, I mean, 27 is not much of a landmark as say, 16, 21, or, in the case of Julie, 30, which brought her to tears a few weeks back). Gil played me “Happy Birthday” on guitar as we sat ’round a midnight campfire, and I awoke to a birthday cake which Julie and Dom (British bloke and 4-month resident of Mr. Lee’s) managed to scrounge up. It was a good place to reflect on my past year, and look ahead to the coming one. Via e-mail, my mother was kind enough to refuse to wish me a “Happy Birthday” on the grounds that it seems like every day is my birthday. I conceded on this point–my life’s good.

Julie, apart from being magnificently gorgeous, is something of an internet addict. My plan, after leaving Bangkok, was to wait a couple weeks before checking in again. One day in Tana Rata, Julie needed to check her e-mail briefly, and I reluctantly decided to sit down and check mine, too. And this is where things get a bit interesting.

I got a message from Betty Yu, my ex-roommate’s (hereafter: Colin), girlfriend. (I also got a strange message with the subject header “Do you like sexy girls?”, but that’s a different story). Betty and Colin had plans to go to Taiwan and visit her family. They decided to call my bluff and test my “people-oriented” travel philosophy I talked about in my last update. Would I like to come to Taiwan and meet them? The wheels, started turning. I hadn’t seen them in 3 1/2 years, when I left for Japan, and they left for New York. It would be great to see them, and also a great opportunity to see Taiwan, what with “inside connections” and all. But more than actually seeing Betty and Colin, I liked the idea of just “popping over to Taiwan” to meet someone. (I’m imagining a telephone conversation something like this. In obnoxious, snobby accents, of course:

Col: Jay, ol’ boy, long time no see!
Jay: Col! Fabulous to hear from you, ol’ sport! How are you?
Col: Smashing, just smashing! Where are you these days?
Jay: Oh, I’m in Malaysia this week, Singapore the next, you know how it goes.
Col: Smashing! Say, ol’ chap, the Betts and I will be in Taiwan next week, visiting the
family, you know.
Jay: Oh, fiddlesticks! You are a lucky one! I wish I had that chance.  Fabulous for you,
ol’ man.
Col: Well, that’s what I wanted to chat with you about. See, the Betts had this
smashing idea. Why don’t you just pop on over and join us for the week?
The Betts: Oh, do come, Jay. We would so love to see you. It’ll be such a lark. Splendid,
really.
Jay: Well, I guess I don’t see why not…why, yes, I suppose…YES, I’ll call some people,
and see what magic I can brew up.
The Betts: Splendid!
Col: Smashing!
Jay: Fabulous! Fabulous idea, you two!
Col: Well, ol’ guy, the credit goes all to the Betts!
Jay: Well, then, Heaven’s to Betts, eh?
(etc.)

But Taiwan’s not exactly on my route, and it would take some doing. Plus, I really enjoyed traveling with Julie, and she’d even invited me to continue on to Indonesia with her. It wasn’t an easy decision to make. (You know, you can’t have your cake and eat it, too. Even birthday cake.)

In the end, it was a zero hour deal, which brought everything together, on the Malaysian island of Penang. For reasons, I don’t quite understand, Penang is a major center for cheap airline tickets (it also has a lot of rats, but again, that’s a different story), and since, after a few days in Kuala Lumpur, Julie and I were going there anyway, that’s where the final decision would be made. The night we arrived, it was late, so all shops were closed, the next day was a Sunday, and again, nothing open. So Sunday evening I went to sleep knowing the next day things’d be sorted out. It wasn’t a restful sleep, however, as moments before my eyes shut, I did the math and realized that Betty and Colin’s flight to Taiwan could be at any moment (they were waiting for me to let them know if it was going to work, and I was waiting for the shops to open, oblivious of the date). The next morning, I was out on the street looking for an open travel agent, and an open internet cafe, both things taking a while on this sleepy Monday morning. I found a ticket for a reasonable price, but that would be useless if I couldn’t contact Colin. Run to a computer, e-mail to Colin, then send a desperate plea for help from people who may know Colin’s number and his parents’. To be so close to making it all work, I wasn’t about to give up easily and was figuring even if they had already left, perhaps I could get contact information from his parents. I was considering my options, and about to log-off, when I got a message from Colin. We’d connected, a few hours before they were about to leave, and well…a few days later we were all together in Taiwan.

At this point, I have to give a big thanks to Dan Picciotto. For reasons he can’t explain, Dan decided to check his e-mail at a time he never checks his mail, read my plea for help, called Colin, and gets major props for the assist. Thanks, Dan, the following adventures couldn’t have happened without you.

I was able to spend a few more days with Julie before bidding a teary-eyed farewell (the tears were all mine, she could hardly contain her smile at finally getting rid of me). She on a boat to Indonesia, me on a plane to Taiwan.

Chinese culture is not something so foreign to me. After all, I’ve spent time in Chinatowns all over the world (that’s a joke, people). But it was my first time to a proper Chinese country, and I was lucky enough to tag along on the Betty Yu roots tour, visiting Betty’s friends, and stomping grounds from her childhood.

The Chinese New Year means lots of family, and lots of food. I don’t think a day went by where I didn’t meet another cousin, or eat far more food than my body wanted (don’t get me wrong, the food was DELICIOUS!!!) I met her grandparents, cousins, sisters, nieces, nephews, parents, and even spent the night in her brother-in-law’s home, a man who made his millions racing pigeons (that’s NOT a joke, people). Apparently, Colin and I are the only people in the world who have met so many of her relations (I lost count after 50).  

We visited temples, night markets, Betty’s old kindergarten, and some historic street with the intriguing in the idea, yet in the event disappointing name “touch breast” street. And one day, when it was felt our sight-seeing saturation point had been met, after a flurry of faxes and phone calls by Betty’s mother, we ended up spending an afternoon getting massages. Colin and I were a little fuzzy on how the decision was reached, but we certainly didn’t complain. (well, Colin did a bit. There was bruising.)

But no Chinese New Year can pass without some serious Mah Jong, and play we did. Colin and I were first-timers, but Betty’s family was eager to teach us. We learned the basics, the terminology, and with a lot of coaching, began to play. After a bit, Betty’s cousin told us we would never really learn to play unless we played for money. Suddenly, it all made sense. The friendly invitation, the lure of free food, accommodation, and tour-guides to come to Taiwan, all part of a clever ruse by Betty’s family to hustle the unsuspecting white boys out of their money. Colin and I were to be the suckers. Well, THIS sucker, wasn’t going to be having any of it, and it was I who was laughing loudest as I left the table that night, the winner. And two days later in a different town with different players, with Betty’s childhood friends suggesting we play a game in the hopes of reversing their losing-streak, it was THIS sucker who walked away (“know when to walk away, know when to run” -Kenny Rogers) with the biggest winnings. Yeah, don’t mess with THIS sucker. (I really need to stop calling myself that.)

Eventually, the week was up, and time for me to return to my life on the road, and continue my SE Asian adventures. It was great to catch up with Colin and Betty, and I’ve secured space on their floor (what, I’m not good enough for the couch?) when I back in the states, homeless, jobless, looking for some Mah Jong action to get me through the week.

And now? I’m in Singapore, where I needed to deal with some passport issues, getting new pages, and fixing the lamination which was coming off (I suggested duct tape, they weren’t having any of it). It is interesting to note that a new US Embassy was dedicated here in 1997 by William Jefferson Clinton. Interesting, that is, if you like US Embassy trivia, or, like me, you have a map which predates 1997, and has the old embassy marked, several kilometers away from its current site.

Tomorrow? Catching a boat to Indonesia to catch up with Julie who is (say it with me) beautiful. Pop over to Taiwan to see my friends, back down to Indonesia to continue traveling with the girl, I guess sometimes you can have your cake and eat it, too.

more from the road…

Jay “Ain’t no sucker” Schneider

P.S. — I was almost certain March would be my return month, but my money’s been going a lot further than expected (thanks to my Mah Jong winnings), so while it’s still a possibility, the smart bet is on April. I’ll give 30 days’ notice.

Date: Sun, 7 Jan 2001 05:52:45 -0800 (PST)

From: Jay Schneider

Subject: Rambo and Room Service

Happy 2001, dear readers! I’m hoping this first installment of the new year  finds everyone healthy, well, and enjoying life as much as I am. 

I won’t bore you with the details of my countdown festivities, since I’m  sure  it’s a tired old story to the many of you who were also watching a drag show  in a red-light district gay bar.

And no, pets, Santa Claus did not find me this year (I’ll chalk that up to lack of a forwarding address, and not a reflection of my behavior). Fortunately ‘Uncle Chuck’ came for a visit, and not only insisted on sponsoring my holiday but demanded I upgrade my standard of living. Being the considerate fellow I am, and not wanting to disappoint my ol’ college buddy, I didn’t argue. 

Though it was sad to part from my shoebox room in the guesthouse who’s slogan reads “If the neon lights don’t keep you awake, the 24-hour Britney  Spears/Backstreet Boys/techno fest will,” I soon adapted to life in the Siam  Intercontinental. Admittedly, it was rough at first, going from a guest house staff who laughed at me each time I found a cockroach in my bed, to a  uniformed man who saluted me each time I passed (I made a point of walking by this gentleman as often as I could). When the swimming pool, driving range and pleasant strolls through the gardens got too much for us, we could always retreat to our room with its comfortable, proper beds,  air-conditioning, and…cable! Not just any cable, but cable with AMERICAN  FOOTBALL! 

It was nice to see a friend from home, not only for his wallet, but also for  the sight-seeing and exploring of Bangkok’s cultural sites. See, none of my  female friends shared my desire to discover exactly what the ‘ping-pong’  show at the go-go bars is all about. 

But it wasn’t all saluting and ping-pong shows. We soon headed south to the islands where I could visit another friendly face Ava, a fellow ex-English teacher from Japan. It was great to see her again, catch up on the past 5  months, and threaten her with blackmail (see previous update: ‘Joe Camel’),  but also to see her doing so well in her new job. Working as a  divemaster (dive-mistress?) in Ko Lanta, she seems really happy and in her element. During my stay, I heard countless divers praise her divemaster-ing skills. I almost felt like a proud parent, and  tears willing in my eyes, I hugged Chuck and cried “Our little Ava’s all  grown up.”  Chuck promptly slugged me, and I promised never to do this again. 

While Ava was off diving, Chuck and I, who were not certified and  didn’t have the time to take a course, entertained ourselves exploring the  island and it’s caves, hanging out on the beaches, and lounging in Ava’s  hammock (though, not at the same time). 

We also rented motorcycles and raced around the island like fully-insured maniacs (yes, I finally got more health insurance). No exciting mud stories this time (dry season), but I did try my hand at taking other people’s lives into my hands and carried passengers. Here’s what I  learned: Ava riding on the back is far, far more enjoyable than Chuck, but a beautiful Dutch-Indonesian woman beats them all. (Sorry, Ava; no  apologies, Chuck) 

Well, it all had to end at some point, and Chuck and I headed back to  Bangkok so he could catch his flight back home. Our farewell dinner was  ‘Room Service and Rambo’ night, the penguin-suited man wheeled in our fresh  sea food, as we  watched ‘First Blood,’ the original (and by far the best) Rambo movie.Classy. 

So what’s next for our hero? Well, apart from a return to a budget  lifestyle, let me explain. 

My basic plan (and I’ve always had one, despite what most of y’all are thinkin’) is to explore Laos/Northern Thailand and Malaysia/Singapore, and then pack it up and head for home. But I may not follow the nice itinerary  I’d come up with prior to the holidays. Seeing Chuck and Ava reminded me how nice it is to see friendly faces, and travel/hang out with people you get on with. Though I’m always meeting great people on the road until now  I’ve been ‘doing my own thing’ not altering my schedule too much in order to travel with, or meet up with people. And it felt right to do so. 

But my plan for the new year is to be more people-oriented, and I’ll gladly mold my schedule to accommodate friends. For example, I may travel a  bit with Ava when she finishes the season, or I may try and meet up with the two American guys who convinced me to shave my head in Kathmandu. (Though  I’m a little upset with them as I just found out they missed their chance to be extras in a Bollywood movie because they overslept. I’m so disappointed.) So my plans and routes may have me hopping around and backtracking a bit, and it may even lengthen my trip a few weeks (no,  really, I am coming home) but I think it’ll be for the best.

So what does all that mean for right now? I’m heading for Malaysia. 

(see above: ‘beautiful Dutch-Indonesian woman’) 

will write again 

Jay “don’t forget my Birthday, January 14th” Schneider

Date: Wed, 20 Dec 2000 09:33:34 -0800 (PST)

From: Jay Schneider

Subject: Joe Camel

Comrades!

I’ve returned to the Oppressive Kingdom of Siam. Though having been spared the colonial yoke of Imperialist European powers, capitalist bourgeois opportunists still abound, exploiting the workers and oppressing the peasants, poisoning minds and thwarting the revolution. But fear not, The Great, Unfailing Wisdom of The Party will heroically lead the masses to the proletariat dictatorship under which all will finally be free and equal!

(I’ll explain this, I promise I will…)

The final 2 weeks of my India trip, on the surface, could seem pretty straightforward: I traveled through Rajasthan, then headed to Calcutta to fly out. But this was made all the more interesting due to two factors. First, I had no business doing all I did with such an absurdly low amount of money. Second, I went to Calcutta from Jaipur (Rajasthan’s capital) via Bombay. (Those of you needing some geography assistance can feel free to take some time and look at an atlas.)

The Money Issue—

In past mailings I’ve mentioned my ‘meager means’ and ‘limited funds’ and so first off, I should like to clarify this point a bit.

I’ve had a bad habit, when traveling, of carrying far too much money with me. This habit, I decided, was not a good one to take with me to India, a place infamous for its scams, theft, and other things which make travel so ‘character-building.’ So prior to my departure for the sub-continent, I took a reasonable amount of cash and traveller’s cheques (traveler’s checks) for a couple of weeks in Nepal and a few months in India, and a bit for emergency, leaving the rest and my credit card in my safe deposit box in Bangkok.

Interruption — I must say it’s so cool to have a safe deposit box in a foreign country. Sure it’s no Swiss bank account, and admittedly I sometimes store my dirty laundry in it, but it’s still really cool and I can say things like “I have the negatives in a safe deposit box in Bangkok, in case you get any funny ideas…” (This is true, I have incriminating pictures of Ava, naked in front of Himeji Castle. Why she would do such I thing, I’ll never quite understand…)

So, I left with a more-than-adequate budget, and spent 2 months in Nepal instead of 2 weeks (time and money very well spent, though). When time for India came around, the money was understandably low.

Now, India’s a cheap country for travel, and I could’ve spent many months hangin’ out in some cool places, but my goal wasn’t just to go for as long as possible on as little. I had big plans, and little things like ‘money’ and ‘lack of it’ weren’t going to get in my way (power of positive thinking).

Off to the Indian state of Rajasthan. Really cool forts and palaces, colorful turbans on men with funky mustaches, and, what we’ve all been waiting for, CAMELS!

Yes, I did my camel safari, and it was so cool, I’m thinking of taking up smoking (Joe Camel lives!). I spent 3 days and 2 nights in the Thar Desert, which straddles the India-Pakistan border. Though, my camel was a bit of a slacker, had a bad eye and stepped on my toe (this, I believe, had nothing to do with his lame eye. It was personal.), the scenery was spectacular (in that way that barren nothingness can be), and I slept in the open air, on the dunes under the stars (and a few blankets–winter’s cold in the desert).

Camel Treks are heavily marketed for the tourists Rajasthan, so I was a little worried that it’d be a bit like Disneyland, but it wasn’t at all. And while “riding a camel through the desert” sells it to the tourists, and is great for telling the folks back home (as I’m doing now), what was most enjoyable for me were the things that weren’t necessarily so unique, such as cooking over an open fire, and sleeping out in the open under a full moon. These are things that I’ve done before, and it’s my desire to do again and again.  

Each night, I went to sleep giddy and giggling, having one of my frequent “damn, my life is so good” flashes, and woke several times rewarded by views of the constellations and a full moon. Also, in the late, quite desert night, I discovered that the sound of urine hitting the sand is REALLY LOUD!  

Okay, what was the icing on the camel cake? What made this already wonderful trip so much more unique and cool? After a long negotiating session, a complex and elaborate package was arranged. I got the camel safari, 2 free nights’ accommodation (the safari was booked through the guesthouse), one free meal, and as many cups of chai as I could drink while I stayed with them. They got a small amount of money, and, get this, my watch! Trading a watch for a ride on a one-eyed camel (even toe-crushing camels) is so cool, in that “having a safe deposit box in Bangkok” sense of the word.  

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, money low and butt sore, and drinking a lot of chai, I relaxed around the guesthouse and was approached for more negotiations (I thought they were after a draft pick). I was offered a job. I went with one of the staff to the city of Jodhpur, which many tourists come to on their way to Jaisalmer (where I did the camel safari). My job was to tell other tourists about their hotel and camel safari. For this, they would pay for my expenses, and give my 200 rupees a day. I didn’t like the thought of “going to the other side” and becoming one of the touts I despised so much, but I had no objections to advertising their hotel and safari, as they were good products. Besides, you know my money situation, and my plan had been to hole up in Jaisalmer doing nothing (and eating nothing) for a few days.

Anyhoo, I had fun meeting loads of travelers (ran into friends I’d made elsewhere, and met a guy who’d cycled through China, Pakistan and now into India–got me thinkin…) and was very honest and forthcoming in what I was doing (my employers would have been disappointed, I’m sure). I only did this one and a half days, because I wanted to get on the road again, but now I’ve got that touting, er, I mean “Public Relations and Advertising” experience employers love so much…  

Jaipur, is home to a number of forts, palaces, and really cool astronomy instruments, but the most enjoyable was running into a friend I’d made in Delhi, and going to see a Hindi movie, Bollywood Blockbuster: “Mission Kashmir.” Action, song, dance, tears, romance, I can see why it was one of the hits of the year (but had I seen one of the hundreds of other “hits of the year” I may not have been able to tell the difference between them).

During the intermission, the man in front of us turned around and started speaking Hindi. When he realized we couldn’t understand, he spoke English, and asked why, if we couldn’t understand Hindi, we had come to see a Hindi movie? I answered that while I couldn’t understand Hindi, I had no trouble understanding the movie. Actually, that’s not true. I could understand the basic plot: super-cool army leader’s son dies. Supercool guy, wearing a mask, goes on mission to kill Muslim terrorists. One of the men killed was survived by a son. Sad wife of supercool guy suggests adopting the orphan. They do. Orphan has some issues, having witnessed a bloodbath in which his father was gunned down by a masked man. Finally, in a dream in which the supercool guy’s son appears and dances around in his underwear, everyone becomes happy and they all play cricket. One night, the now-happy boy (orphan-boy, not underwear-boy) finds the mask, puts two and two together (and the mask on), and decides to try and kill supercool guy. Failing, he runs out the window into darkness. Time passes, and we know this because supercool guy has a different hairstyle and a mustache. The orphan boy (now a supercool guy in his own right), returns as part of a Muslim terrorist group…. etc. (sorry, we’re not even at the intermission yet. It goes on and on, and eventually, after much singing and dancing in the strangest moments, it all works out, and they’re a happy family again (minus the mother whom the orphan mistakenly killed while trying to knock off his foster-dad, supercool guy.)  

My point is, I had no difficulty following plot, but, as one raised in a different culture, I couldn’t understand the spontaneous outbreaks of singing and dancing around trees and fake gardens. Cultural differences, I guess…

After leaving Jaipur, I would be spending 55 out of 65 hours on a train, and decided I may want something to read. Checking all the bookstores, my budget couldn’t cover anything more than an Archie comic, and those were over-priced and wouldn’t last me long). What I needed was the maximum amount of pages, for the least amount of rupees. Content was of little importance. Finally, I stumble upon a store filled with dusty, and worn books, which looked promising. Oh, yeah, on the window was painted “Soviet Books.” Communist and Socialist essays, literature and propaganda of all sorts could be found, at VERY reasonable prices. “The Soviet Union: a Successful Future” was a particular bargain. I stocked up on “The History of the Communist Party in the Soviet Union,” “What is the Party?” and “The Theory of Revolution” for a piddling 30 rupees (60 cents). (And now, the ‘Comrades’ intro makes sense! It all comes together!)  

You may be wondering why I didn’t go directly to Calcutta, but instead traveled hundreds of kilometers out of my way to Mumbai (formerly Bombay) for only a matter of hours. No, this time the answer is not as simple as “Erotic Temple Carvings”. I can’t really explain it other than to say I just had to go. It’s Bollywood, home of the stars, glamour and glitz, not to mention the Indian Mafia and red-light districts. But, it’s more than that, it was sort of a calling from my childhood. I remember standing in line outside my 2nd grade classroom next to J.P. and looking through the window at a globe, making stupid, 2nd grade jokes which all ended “…in BOMBAY!” and this was enough to send us into hysterics. I really don’t know why, but I suppose it requires a 3rd grade level kind of logic and humor. Anyhow, I don’t expect you to understand, and I’m not sure why I’m choosing to share this childhood memory with you all, but something about actually going to this place which almost 20 years ago had no meaning to me other than a faraway place whose name would induce laughter, well it was just something I had to do, even if only for a matter of hours.  

And the simple explanation: why would I choose to spend 55 out of 65 hours on a train just to catch a glimpse of a place? Because I’m that cool. (See earlier definitions of ‘cool’ above.)  

40 train hours after Bombay, and a day and night in Calcutta later, I left India with 100 rupees in my pocket (it would have been 120, but the security guy who searched me at the airport suggested I give him some so he could buy himself tea. He was so cute with his toothless grin. I just couldn’t resist making my final ‘donation’ to India.)

Final thoughts?

I’ll rip-off, and misquote and modify-to-fit-my-purposes a bit from William S…..(I forget)’s book “Are you Experienced?” (A great read by the way). The set up: two fresh, first-time travelers arrive in a dormitory in India, and find an experienced, “cooler” traveler lying about…

“Hi!”

“Peace.”

“Wow, it’s really hot here, isn’t it?”

“Let me guess, you’re new here, right?”

“Yeah, just off the plane! How long you been here?”

“Oh…” he says, chuckling slightly in that way an adult laugh’s at a child’s innocent question “long enough…long enough. Long enough to love it….and hate it.”

“So, what’s that, like a week or something?”

Merry Xmas and Happy New Year for all those to whom it applies!

I’ll be hangin’ on the beaches of Thailand for a while with a Berkeley friend (Chucky) and another friend I’m going to try and blackmail (Ava).

Until next time,

Jay “on holiday till 2001” Schneider