It's Not You, It's Me

Of course, I'm fully aware that India is a great and wonderful country. My opinion is of no importance at all. I put one word after another for entertainment purposes only.

I'm 30 years old, I have 1.6 friends, my hairline is reclining, I have the social skills of a (non-holy) cow and the personality of an empty can. It's no surprise that I struggle to stay on my feet in this place.

I've looked at the map and I asked around. The only way out of Pushkar is straight into another mega-city. People keep telling me

"Agra is a terrible place but if you've never visited the Taj Mahal you really should go."

or

"Varanassi is crowded, smelly and full of touts. My laptop got stolen and my friend got mugged but since you're in India, you have go."

I find it hard to agree.
Just like a dog chasing its own tail there's only one place I really want to go…

My sincere apologies if I've offended or disappointed anyone. I'm not one of the cool dudes. I just like to tell my little story even though it often makes me look like an ass…

Racist Ravings Of A Formerly Gentle Dude

The first light of morning is coming through the curtains when the deafening noise of the amplified prayers finally stops. Last night, around sunset, the neighbors pushed big speakers into the street. Then they blared loud prayers all night long. The sound is bouncing of the walls of my room. Earplugs jammed in, my head under a pillow I feel like a tortured prisoner in Guantanamo Bay. This was my first night in Pushkar.

It's is supposed to be a quiet, mystic town at a lake. A 'hippie hang-out' as Lonely Planet describes it. No idea what kind of dope they got hold of but, please, get me some. All I see are touts, honking motorbikes, loud prayers and a filthy pool surrounded by cemented steps. Just another swarm, as far as I can see. Only in India they can fuck up a beautiful, natural surrounding this bad. This could be a tranquil oasis in the desert if no one had thought to put the adjective 'holy' in front of 'lake'.

This country takes religion way too serious. No room for humor whatsoever. Can't eat meat here, take of your shoes there, no smoking in this area, no alcohol in that town, etc. A million rules and regulations regarding religion but no respect for other people. They take better care of their cows then of their personal hygiene. India's rude and unfriendly. Never a 'thank you' or 'please'. Always ready to push and invade my personal space.

But, hey, I'm just a shy, little man in a nation of over a billion; so what do I know? One week in India has clearly turned me from an open-minded, peaceful, leftie kind of guy into an angry, raving racist. I'm no longer communicating, beyond the strict necessities, with anyone with a brown skin tone and/or facial hair. When they keep pushing I won't hesitate to deliver an F-bomb infused tirade.

They say India will change you in ways you never thought possible.
I have to agree.

Homesick

The Sarai Rohilla train station in Delhi is swarming with people. It's ten past eight in the morning. I clench a train ticket to Jaipur in my fist but got no clue what to do. Someone points me in the direction of platform 1, by far the busiest of the overcrowded station. I sigh and join the flock.
As soon as the train rolls in, the crowd starts pushing in all directions. I can't figure out witch carriage I should enter. People keep pushing. My heart's pounding, my hands are trembling. I tend to get anxious in groups of more than two. This is not going well. Panic is rising. I want to evaporate. Fuck this country! I could be sitting on a beach but instead I'm swallowed up by a sea of people. Panic is taking over. In my mind I'm screaming and crying but my body is simply moving around according the pressure of the swarm. Maybe I should just let this train go by and return to Paharganj. Flights to Bangkok are cheap from here. But foolish stubbornness forces me to get a hold of myself. I start showing my ticket to the masses. The responses are mixed. Some point me to the front end of the train, others to the back. A lot of people just give me blank stares. More by luck than anything else I finally find the right carriage. Of course, by this time the whole damned thing is completely filled with people, bags, crying kids, suitcases and more people. I squeeze through the crowd only to find out that my numbered seat is taken by about 3.5 Indians. Waving and pointing witch my ticket results in getting a few centimeters of space on the bench. With my big backpack crammed between my legs and holding my small bag in my arms I will remain immobile for the next 5 hours. I'm dying inside. It doesn't take long before the swarm starts smelling. Too many phones play music at max volume, a few people watch loud movies on battered laptops. I can barely breath. It's a slow, painful and extremely unpleasant journey. I hang on by dreaming about the beach. Tired, hungry and dizzy I get of the train in Jaipur. As soon as my feet hit the platform I get swallowed by another swarm. Rickshaw drivers besiege me from all sides. The edge is near. I want out. But I got absolutely nowhere to go. Jaipur is a big city in the middle of the desert. The noise, smell and lack of personal space hit me hard. I pick a random rickshaw driver and repeat the name of my guesthouse of choice until he shuts his mouth and starts driving. I end up in Atithi Guesthouse. It looks fancy but it's overpriced. The lack of a grill in front of my second floor window will keep me worried every second I stay in this stinky, crowded town. Paranoia and anxiety hold me in a tight grip.
But hey, on the bright side, I survived my first (and last?) Indian train ride and found myself a room. After a shower I do an attempt to enjoy a relaxing sunset on the rooftop terrace but the evening cold is too much to handle. So I return to my room, get under the blankets and hide away from this awful place 'til morning.

The next day I decide to be strong and check out the sights. After all, this is supposed to be an awesome place according Lonely Planet. But as soon as I leave the guesthouse the swarm swallows me again. A small army of rickshaw drivers surrounds me, negotiating a price, getting driven to shops where I don't want to be and tumbling from the city swarm in the tourist swarm and back again. I truly, deeply despise this place. As soon as the morning cold disappears, the suns starts burning. Fuck this fucking desert! I do visit the highlights of the area but I couldn't care less. While India is torturing my senses I'm dreaming about palm trees, sunny beaches and driving a motorbike down an abandoned road near the sea…

Fuck it, I've always denied being an adventurer or a traveller. My life in Brussels wasn't working out so I came looking for a better place, a spot in the sun where I could shine. Or, more accurately, where the sun could shine on me. Whatever, this place ain't it. I don't think I'll last here much longer. Everyone told me India was dirty, noisy and busy. They were right. Everyone also told me you'll get scammed, robbed and sick in India…

I've got a little pride left that forces me to travel on for now. Although I must admit that a cold Chang beer and a hotdog on Khao San Road, the morning bus to Trat, crossing the border at Koh Kong and just go back once and for all sounds like a fucking awesome plan. I've spend so much time and effort trying to stay away. Maybe I should just accept that I already found my home in the sun a long time ago...

A New Arrival

On the flight out of Brussels I was finally able to relax. It feels like I've been in a state of blind panic for weeks. Leaving has simplified everything. Now there's only the long road ahead...

Arriving in Delhi was a lot less daunting than I had feared it to be. I took a taxi to Paharganj, the backpacker area, and found a room in the pleasant Ajay Guest House (clean place, good food and a sunny rooftop terrace for only 800 rupees). First I considered relaxing for a while but there was just too much adrenaline pumping through my veins. Finally in Delhi, finally on the trail! No time to waste, I must do something! So I jumped in an auto-rickshaw and started visiting numerous tourist attractions. Snapping pictures, running in and out of temples and observing the mad Delhi traffic from the back of an auto-rickshaw. At night, back in my room, I kept uploading pics on Flickr until I was unable to keep my eyes open any longer. Just like a kid in a candy store...

Of course, almost no sleep and running around like a mad man has it's price. On the second day the jet-lag, the noise and the crowds got to me. Tired and confused in a strange city of over 20 million people. But I refused to give in. Stubbornly I continued my Delhi tourist trip.
Ghandi Smriti, where Mahatma Ghandi got killed, was interesting (at least, for a Ghandi-fanboy like me) but the rest of the day was lost in exhaustion, fumes and noise. I dragged myself to a few more tourist spots but my heart was not in it any longer. Dreaming of palm trees and beaches I stumbled across a few more historical sights. Late afternoon, when it started to drizzle, I called it a day and took a rickshaw back to the guesthouse. When I paid the driver, he said:
"Whatever's fine, sir. I don't care about the money. I like you, you are my friend"
That's how I knew I had paid this sleazy bastard way too much…
Oh well, there's always an amount of learning money to pay in any new place. Everything's dirt cheap here anyway. At least I didn't fall for the "Hello, how are you? Please, follow me for a free map of Delhi"- line. Or, even worse, for any offers to buy dope. So far I've been an exemplary boy scout. I've been to busy to even think about getting drunk. My mother should be proud.

This is my third day in Delhi. That's about all I can handle. I do love the food, I love the chai (Indian milk-tea) and I'm excited to be in the East. But this city's just too much for me; too many people, too much traffic, too much noise. This morning I booked a train ticket out of here. Spending the rest of the day relaxing on the roof terrace; only getting down in the busy street to buy food, a Murakami novel and a brand-new haircut. Delhi is preferably enjoyed up on the fifth floor, in the sunshine, with a good book and a lassi fruit shake.
Anyway, tomorrow I'm out of here. It's time to explore more of this huge, weird country I'm in.
It feels like I'm on a roll...

Out Of The Loop

The day job is done. For almost seven years it was an easy way to make an honest living. I've hated it at times of course, had some fun now and then and was ever grateful for the paychecks, benefits and paid holidays. It was easy, safe and boring work. No alarms and no surprises. A steady live slowly driving me insane. Today I reassured my supervisors that I will be back next year. Sure, I'll be back (but only if all else fails).

My final departure turned out just like my work presence; uneventful and largely unnoticed. A few colleagues took the time for a handshake and goodbyes. Then I got in my car and drove away. I strangled the brain dead dodo on my way home. I'm out. I'm free.

Fuck, yeah! I'm out! I'm free! Out of the rat race! Away with the way of the dodo! I ain’t gonna work on Maggie’s farm no more

No more underachieving and hiding from life in front of the TV. I'll be gone in 5 days… Real gone. Heading to India, at last. It's been over a decade since this idea first crossed my mind. I was eating felafel, late at night on the beach front boulevard in Tel Aviv, together with an Italian girl. I was madly in love with her. We had spend a few weeks drifting through the Middle East together. The next day she would fly back to Rome and I was to return to Brussels. Plans were made to meet again soon for a big journey through India…

Her Facebook profile tells me that she's married with children now. Me, I'm still dreaming about India. Still yearning for the road, still looking for beauty, searching for wisdom and hoping to find my place in the sun.

I don't need a wife or kids or a cosy family. I feel like I've already won. I've got the balls to walk away from this golden cage, dust off an old dream and get going. That's all I ever wanted. That's all I need.

Paperwork and Preparation

It's seven forty-five in the morning when I'm standing on the most posh avenue of this town. I light the first cigarette of the day and try to relax.

The Indian Visa Office opens at eight. I feel edgy and restless. Applying for an Indian visa might look like an ordinary case of paperwork and paying. It's a huge step forward on this dubious trail. The speed of which reality is catching up with my hazy dreams is truly frightening.

At eight o'clock sharp I take a deep breath and enter the office. It's a tiny place, just a waiting area and a counter. A flat screen in the corner is playing 'Visit India' commercials on the beat of Hindi pop music. There's one person in front of me; a cute, blonde twenty-something girl. She's nervously struggling with glue, passport pics and visa paperwork. While looking for a seat I catch her apologetic smile. We greet in broken English. She looks rather lost and confused in here. Then an official appears and invites her over at the counter. While she's standing there I can't help but notice that her derrière looks very pleasant in those jeans. Slowly my eyes drift upwards. Her sweater appears to be somewhat strange. There are washing prescription tags on the outside. Seams run down from her smooth neck along her sleeves all the way down to her graceful hands... By the time I have finally figured out she's wearing her sweater inside out, she has noticed it too. Quickly she glances around to check if anyone's looking. At this point I'm still very much staring so our eyes meet. I laugh and then she has to laugh too…

Two days later I return to the Visa Office to collect my passport. I'm good to go.

The Great Escape

"Happy New Year and good luck to you!"

The call from Cambodia came through on New Year's Day. As if a single sunbeam bursted through the grey clouds to lighten up my day. The struggle is almost over. My time here is almost done. Only 17 days left on the day job. I still fail to explain exactly what it is that I'm going to do. Most of the time I mumble something vague:

"Backpacking in India, you know. For about a year. Something like that. I'm not really sure. Got a one-way ticket and a little bit of savings. Maybe I'll visit some other countries too. Don't know much else, don't have much to say…"

But that's just because I'm a shy, anxious dude who wants to dissolve into thin air every time someone asks me a personal question. Otherwise I would tell you all about avoiding the way of the dodo, about the Great Escape. About my hopes and dreams, the search for a better place and a happier, more fulfilling live. There is more than grey, old Brussels. I'm done with staring at the shadows on the wall. I don't want to fade away in a boring job, a lonely live, lousy movies on tv and too much cheap beer. That's why I have to leave. That's why I have to get out. Everyday I stay in this room, the borders of my own limitations are vastly expanding. But it doesn't have to go down like this. I don't have to be a shy and anxious man. I can do better.

So this is me doing something. This is about being my own dog. About my humble attempts to become a better man and, why not, make the world a better place in the process.
Oh, and also about India, of course.

No worries, this time I got it all figured out.
My master plan makes perfect sense.
Or, at least, I know it will
Once I get out of here…

The Logistics Of Leaving

Got a brand new passport, brand new credit cards and one-way ticket to Dehli…
A solid plan. Now it all comes down to the simple logistics of leaving.

Planning and preparation. Making arrangements, canceling subscriptions, visits to the doctor and the bank, reading guidebooks, intensive Googling and lots of staring at the map of the world. The logistics of leaving keep me away from my worries and fears. Too many India-stories seem to involve getting sick, getting scammed, getting robbed. Well, that's not keeping me here. I already got plenty of experience in all of those fields.

I need to go.
Those four little words cover it all.

Weeks have passed since my last phone call with Cambodia. There's even less going on in this town. It's a very quiet, very comfortable and very lonely life in Brussels. There simply has to be more than this. Make no mistake, this is not a tale about some kind of Great Adventurer or Crazy Traveler.
Just a brain dead dodo in a golden cage. I need to get out before I'm too numb to even care.

When I'm not blinded by fear,
I feel pretty awesome about leaving...

Green Light

The darkest hour is right before the dawn...

After way too many sleepless nights, the papers came through, at last. Human Resources approved my sabbatical. (Boom!)

The hard part is over; the decision has been made. All I need is one final confirmation from the Government Office for Employment. At the day job, all documents are signed and approved. In 3 months time I'm free to go. Nothing holds me back. Preparation can finally start. The dream came true. I'm a happy man.

The long road ahead is all mine. (Yeah!) It's about time. No more compromises. I'll do as I please. I'll go where I want. Back to the East, of course. Same same but *seriously* different. Done with dope, done with troublesome love affairs. Intrepid traveling on my own terms, like a vagabond in the distance...

Far away from here,
far enough from Cambodia

Destination: India.