Finally!

Rafting through Rishikesh on the Ganges River - somehow I ended up with a group of American medical students, all girls my age. Oh, the irony.

The rooftops of Delhi - this doesn't even begin to capture the scale of this place.

Two Oregon girls in a Malagasy rain forest - proof we were indeed in the same place at the same time.

Holy cow, eh

Just as Delhi wasn't quite what I expected, Rishikesh isn't at all what I imagined. The guide book, and my lively imagination, made it out to be a serene and tranquil haven for spiritual discoveries. On arriving my travel companions and I found a whirring hug of energy, the streets hectic with people and cows and taxis leaning on their horns. Located on the Ganges river, this is a major pilgrimage site for Hindus, as evidenced by the sadhus wandering the streets wrapped in orange cloth, and the huge, ornately decorated and brightly colored temples lining the river banks. It's also a huge center for yoga and meditation, and the many Westerners walking around have dreadlocks, piercings, and tattoos. Well, two out of three ain't bad.

The other night I was sitting in a restaurant down by the river, tucked away down a dark alley. Everyone there was white (albeit from every possible nation), reclining on cushions and eating pizza, hummus, and enchiladas. The electricity had gone out and we were listening to an Israeli woman sing Bob Marley and Bob Dylan songs by candlelight. It was all very surreal - I could have been anywhere in the world, and for the first time in a long while I felt completely placeless.

Then today, finally emerging from my room after a couple days of tummy trouble, walking past women in brilliantly colored saris, stalls selling bangles and prayer beads, holy men in orange robes and not much else, by the banks of the Ganges, it was comforting to know that I couldn't be anywhere else but India.

90 degrees at 10:00

That's how warm it was in my room last night. I can't remember the last time I was somewhere this hot, if ever. Walking out of the airport yesterday was like sticking your head in an oven, and then shoving in the rest of your body. Needless to say I bought a train ticket this morning and am headed for the hills.

Delhi is a lot of what one expects in India: hot, crowded, and colorful. Two weeks in Madagascar have well prepared me for the crush of people, pesky shop-owners and taxi drivers, and cows wandering down the middle of the street. I'm staying in the Main Bazaar area, where the housing is cheap and dodgy and there are plenty of other backpacker-types wandering around. The shops sell brightly colored clothing, scarves, bags, leather shoes, beads, and all sorts of mirrored, shiny things that fascinate the magpie in me.

I'm writing this from the air-conditioned comfort of the U.S. embassy, where they've kindly added some new pages to my passport. The poor thing was almost full, and it's still got such a very long way to go. As a U.S. citizen I got to feel very special, sneaking through the maze of lines and windows to the special corner reserved for citizen services. It's just another reminder of how truly privileged I am.