After our camel safari, we had all unfortunately gotten pretty sick once again. Right when we thought we were in the clear, we had gotten hit again pretty hard with something that kicked all of our butts. Kelli had it the worst by far, then Ryan next, then I, not to discount the amount of pain any of us were in. We tried to do everything right. We ate the food that was safe, we drank only the bottled water, we even had an extremely simple diet of bread, bananas and peanut butter and sometimes the occasional hardboiled egg; we wouldn’t even touch fried eggs for precautionary measures. For weeks this was our staple, and yet we still managed to get sick. Ryan, Kelli and I had all lost a substantial amount of weight; we no longer had the energy and drive we normally had to go out, meet people and get ourselves into crazy adventures like we normally did. All we wanted to do was sleep and pray that the next day we would feel good, or even normal for that matter. Kelli wasn’t doing well at all. Borderline needing to be hospitalized, so she decided to take a train to Delhi and fly to Thailand, where she knew she would be able to recover. It was hard saying goodbye. I had spent the last two months with her doing some of the most amazing things that I will definitely remember for the rest of my life. It is all part of traveling though. You meet so many truly unique people that you wish you could hang out with all the time but at moment’s notice you have to catch a train or flight or move on to the next destination and there is a good chance you may never see them again in person. Luckily we have the internet and phones to keep in touch.
While Kelli was on her way to Thailand, Ryan and I originally had plans to go to Pushkar, but now we decided that we must go to the one place that we know would make us feel better. The beach.
Out of any part of the earth to go to whether it were the mountains, rivers, valleys, deserts, cities, lakes; we knew that the beach was our one safe haven, our place of refuge, our asylum from anything that could hurt us. All we knew is that we needed to get to the beaches of India so that the beach could heal us. It was our new motivation. “THE BEACH”, we would say over and over again. “THE BEACH”, “THE BEACH”. All we have to do is get to the beach and things will get better. All we have to do is get away from the smog, smoke, burning trash, dirty cities and just get to the beach so that we could recover and feel well again. Every time we said it, it brought a smile to our faces and gave us inspiration and new hope. “THE BEACH”.
We knew that we had to first get to Mumbai, and then from Mumbai get down to the beautiful, tranquil beaches of Goa. Going to a travel agent, too exhausted to make it to the train station, Ryan and I found out that the next train ticket available to Mumbai wasn’t for over two weeks! Were we really about to take another overnight bus ride through India? Yep, you betcha, and not only that, but if we really wanted to leave soon, we had to sit regular coach seats because sleeper buses weren’t available for another day and a half. With both of us very eager to leave, we both said, “Book it” to the travel agent, as we simultaneously pictured the sand beneath our feet, the sun shining through the clean, windblown air as it hit our faces and warmed our cores. We just knew we had to get there.
Now, I’m going to spare you the details of yet another terrible bus ride through India. Basically you can read the blog about my last bus ride and it will be pretty much spot on the same as this one. Essentially bus rides in this part of the world are hell; literally hell, especially if you are sick and need a restroom constantly. Plus I feel like I’m becoming a bit winy here, which is completely unnecessary because I am so incredibly blessed to be able to be doing what I’m doing here, so I’ll just skip the negativity of the twelve hour bus ride from Jaisalmer to Mumbai, as well as the ten hour bus rides from Mumbai to Goa and focus on the awesomeness of what is to come.
So… Upon our arrival, we walked from the bus stop to a small beach town called Arambol. Normally we probably would have seen the beach and started running for the water, forty lb packs and all, but due to our weakness and now instinctual thought process to take care of ourselves first and play later, we went for the first restaurant we saw to get some nourishing breakfast. Opening up the menu, Ryan’s face went to pure disgust as his stomach turned in knots from our sickness. As hungry as he was, his body would not allow food at the time, so he decided to walk around to find us a Guesthouse to stay at for the next ten days. Ordering a very basic breakfast of two fried eggs with toast, I sat content, and happy to have finally arrived at our beautiful destination. Ryan came back as I was paying the bill ecstatic at his new found treasure. He wouldn’t tell me anything about the place he had found and that I just had to follow him and see for myself.
As we walked down the rock path towards the beach, Ryan was more excited than I had seen him since first sight of the camels upon arriving in that small village for our camel safari. It was like he had the most exciting wrapped gift for me and couldn’t wait to watch me open it. As we came to a small metal gate, Ryan opened it up, leading into what looked to be a small primal village. Stepping through the gate onto soft sand, we entered into a tropical village type community, with literally huts for hostel rooms to stay in and coconut trees all around to lie in hammocks. Wide eyed and in disbelief I looked over at Ryan smiling from ear to ear, head nodding rapidly up and down. I uncontrollably began doing the same as he showed me to the hut we would be staying in. Opening the palm frond woven door, we entered inside a simple room with a bed, toilet and shower. It was perfect. I couldn’t have chosen a better place to stay. There was even a mosquito net around the bed! This was truly the coolest place we stayed in all of India. As I put my bags down, I slowly laid myself down on the bed, and fell asleep to the waves breaking just beyond our woven hut.
Waking up around 5pm from a well needed nap gave me just enough time get in the warm ocean, swim around a bit and eve do some body surfing as an incredible sunset began to fall right before me on this beautiful western shore of India. This first day was certainly an improvement from how I was feeling the days prior. I just knew that getting to the beach would make everything better. That night we walked around the spirited beach as we watched fire dancers twirl about and spit flames, joined dance parties at different beach bars, and chimed in on music circles that had us singing and playing instruments well into the night. I had a good feeling I was going to really like it here. Everyone we met was so unique and interesting. We were all the same in that we shared the same burning passion for traveling and adventure yet so different from what we had learned from our experiences and how they affected us. So many amazing stories were shared about the most fascinating encounters we had come across through our travels. Everyone had something to tell, which motivated and inspired the group even more to continue to see new places and experience new things in this fantastic world we live in.
The next morning brought incredible pain, dizziness and disappointment to Ryan and I. Just when we thought we had beaten the bug, we could barely get out of bed and felt like we had fell from the sickness tree and hit every branch on the way down. I guess we had exerted too much energy the night before with our excitement and fervor of being in a new place with so many new, interesting people. We wouldn’t leave the room that day with the exception of one agonizing trip to the store, which usually takes two minutes, but took us nearly half an hour with all of the stops we had to make due to the dizziness we were feeling and blurry vision we were having. We couldn’t believe it. We were on the mends just ten hours before, and now we were full blown back in the storm, struggling to even walk. With the symptoms getting worse the next day, we knew we had to go to the doctor to make sure we didn’t have Malaria. With the doctor sounding less than encouraging about not having it, we were advised to get our blood taken at “the lab.” First of all, the doctor’s office was a room with a high ceiling, with cubicle type walls set up for “privacy.” Second of all, the “lab” we were told to go to was a room on the second story above a gas station that had a less than qualified looking couple drawing blood and running tests. We must have asked ten times if the needles were new and clean. I think they were getting a bit annoyed at our thoroughness of our safety and well being with their equipment. None the less we had our blood taken and 30 minutes later we were given a printout saying that we didn’t have malaria. Great, well what do we have then? Being advised back to the doctor, we were told the best he could do was to give us names of medication to get for the symptoms we were having and to hope for the best. Man, I could have really used some modern medicine and a legitimate hospital at that point. Going across the street to the “pharmacy” wedged between a curry restaurant and a convenience store was pretty much the last straw for us as we grabbed our medications and eagerly began heading for our beds.
After popping about four different pills and passing out around 6pm, Ryan and I did actually feel a bit better the next day. Our friends we had made from that first night came around to see what the deal was with us and why they hadn’t seen us around. We explained our long story of sickness in India to them and with their sincere wishes of us feeling better, we planned to do a motor bike tour of a day market as soon as we felt up to it. We did end up making it out of the room that day after their visit, but it was only to sit in the sand and get our toes wet a bit in the ocean. Retiring early once again, we woke up the next morning feeling even better than the day before. Apparently the meds were working! Thank God, because we were sick of being sick. We were even able to join our friends for dinner that night at The Olive Garden. Not the Olive Garden you are thinking of, but the name intrigued us and got us in there and I have to admit it was the best food we had had in all of India. This would soon become our regular hangout for the rest of our time in Arambol.
The next day we were just about as good as we thought we would feel, so we rented some scooters and headed for the day market. As we scooted along down the road we got a great little self tour of our surroundings and what the coast was like in Goa. It was a beautiful drive as the landscape went from sandy beaches straight into to lush green jungles. Passing over bridges with huge bodies of water passing underneath them with small skinny fishing boats scattered about, the warm sun and cool ocean breeze made for the most pleasant drive through the winding roads leading to the day market. By no means was it easy to find, but with the help of many friendly locals, and about ten wrong turns, we finally saw the giant market across a rice field.
Pulling up to the market and parking the scooters, we hear all sorts drums, guitars, instruments I had never heard before as different people were trying to sell their different items of interest. Among the huge swarms of people, we made our way through the dense commotion of bargaining and purchasing. This was a huge tourist attraction, for everything in this market could be bargained down quite cheap due to the many shops selling nearly identical products. I was in the lookout for a small backpack I could fit my laptop and a few important items in. Stopping at yet another backpack stand, I asked how much for the green Northface bag hanging from a string. Meeting the salesman for the first time in my life, he gave me his name as he put his hand on my shoulder and almost whispered as if to not let anyone hear the bargain he was about to give me, “My friend, for you, I can give for seven hundred rupes.” Nearly fourteen dollars, which is a great deal in the states, but unheard of in India to pay that much for a bag, if you know what your way around that is. As I laughed I said back to the man in a sarcastically humorous voice that only someone from the states could pick up on, “Raj, I thought you were my friend. Why my friend would you charge me three times as much as anyone else. This hurts my feelings and to be honest, I do not know if I can buy from you now.” Surprisingly ashamed at what he had just done, he sincerely dropped the price to four hundred Rupees. Knowing I was going to buy the bag from him eventually after already checking other prices in the area, I said to him, “I am sorry, but I need to think about this now that you have tried to trick your friend in buying a bag for seven hundred Rupees. After pulling my arm and dropping the price even lower, I said I would come back and see. As I walked away he shouted out one more price that I was pretty sure I would not be able to beat. Going back and paying him three hundred Rupees for the bag, I gave him a high five and walked on to see more of the market.
No more than ten minutes later I saw the same bag hanging from a different vendors shop. Curious at what he might be selling it for, I asked him how much for the bag. As he gave me the same first line as Raj, I laughed and began walking away however this vendor went even lower than Raj. Shaking my head in amusement, I realized that even though I had been in India for a month, I still fell into the ever so clever trap of the Indian market gypsy.
The day at the market was splendid to say the least. I was able to eat a coconut, walk around, go to the beach and hang out with my friends. It felt great to feel good again. There is a lot to be said about your health. So many, including myself take it for granted. Even small illnesses like I had throughout India take a lot out of you and can become very serious without the right medicine or prognosis. It’s something you don’t really think about in the states. If you get sick, you go and pick up medicine knowing nine times out of ten it is going to work. If your sickness is serious enough, you know nine times out of ten that your doctor knows what he is talking about and that his instruction and prescription on how to get better is going to work. This is not the case in India, which scared me more than any of the other dangers present there.
As the sun began to cast long shadows throughout the market, we decided it was about time to start heading back to Arambol. We hopped back on the scooters and began making our way back through the winding roads, asking for directions every other minute. I didn’t mind; it was fun just to be out doing things again. Out of that imprisonment of illness that had me shackled to my bed with little hopes of getting out. Stopping at an inlet, we watched as thousands of birds collected in the center of it as if there was some sort of mandatory flock meeting taking place. It was beautiful. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen so many birds all in one area, and just like that, meeting adjourned, all of the birds rose from the water, and took off into the sky.
With about twenty minutes left of sunlight, we knew that if we wanted to get one last quick dip in the ocean before the sun went down, we were going to need to hurry. As we whizzed along the coast, we finally came to our usual restaurant, The Olive Garden, parked the scooters and made a dash for the warm waters. What an amazing way to end the day as we cavorted about in the temperate waters and filled our stomachs with gourmet cooking. Completely satisfied with the day, we went to bed that night thankful for what we had done and eager to see what our last day in Arambol would bring tomorrow.
Waking up to our foreign friends outside our door, we lethargically got up to see what they were up to. They had heard about an unreal hike through the jungle to an enormous banyan tree where apparently some guy lived. Obviously intrigued and excited, we both quickly got dressed and headed out towards this peculiar destination. As we hiked along the beach, we soon came to some steep cliffs that had a narrow pathway cut out from it, taking us to yet another beach. As we set foot back on the warm sand, we noticed that not more than fifty yards from the shore, there was a small lake that had people swimming in it. Being that it was hot out and that we could use a little refreshing, we hopped into the revitalizing waters and swam about for around an hour, not wanting to get out of the cool lake. Even so, our curiosity of this magical banyan tree got us out of the water and on the trail into the jungle. The scenery drastically changed from palm trees and tall beach grass to massive tropical jungle jutting out from the ground, towering above us. Each tree seemed to have a network of vines that came down from its ascended branches. Some vines touched the ground and gave root to the rich soil, becoming thick and almost trunk like in themselves while others dangled and swayed in the breeze, leaving us half expecting Tarzan to appear and swing from one to the next.
Finding a brook along the path, we noticed that there were people not too far away covering themselves in some sort of mud. My first thought was that they were just some crazy hippies acting weird, something I’ve come quite familiar with, but when I shouted down to them asking what they were doing, they replied in broken English that the mud was good for the skin. Charmed at what they were doing, we continued despite how much our curiosity wanted us to participate. We were on a mission to find the banyan tree and we weren’t going to stop until we did. Hiking deeper and deeper into the jungle we continued to hear the calls of the tropical birds and as we looked above us, the umbrella of foliage became more and more opaque the further we went. Suddenly we heard a drum off in the distance. Excited, inquisitive and fervent to explore what was ahead, we increased our pace to the beat of the drum. As we faintly began hearing voices through the trees, we continued to follow the sounds our ears were leading us to. Suddenly we came upon a group of people sitting in a circle. What did we just stumble upon? The drum stopped. The large group of around fifteen laid twenty-nine eyes on us as we stepped into the boundary of the well manicured circular area that laid both in and below the biggest banyan tree I have ever seen in my life. Suddenly a small brown man, with a beard white as the rice around your sushi stood up and said, “Well join us! Have a seat anywhere you like. Did you bring any music with you?” Ryan had brought a Ukulele that he had since we had been living in Guam that he took out from his bag. Everyone began to agreeably vocalize their excitement at this new instrument joining the group as Ryan began to play some island songs. The drum started up again and other foreign instruments began making their intrinsic sounds and whoever didn’t have an instrument would either clap or sing or do whatever they wanted to participate. What an experience. We must have sat there in the circle for an hour singing and drumming and loving life so much. It was beautifully calming and exciting all at the same time being surrounded by the jungle, the birds singing, and good people.
Finally getting up from the group, we decided to explore a bit around the massive banyan tree. My first instinct was to go up. As I began to scale the enormous limbs, I quickly rose high above the circle. Up and up and up, higher and higher I went, until everyone on the ground were as small as the ants crawling on my hands as I grappled through this enormous monument of a tree. Coming within ten yards of the top I could see everything around me now as I was elevated above the jungle. The canopy almost like a ceiling laid protection from the sun for all that dwelled below. I could still hear the singing and drumming taking place below me as I looked down over a hundred feet to the ground. I sat there on a branch larger than my body in peace and just admired my surroundings. Three days ago I was at such a low point and now, doing a complete one-eighty, I was literally and figuratively on such a high as I sat in this goliath tree.
Making my way down after a while, we thanked everyone for having us, said Namaste, and headed back towards the beach. Excited and energized at our new experience, we had smiles on our faces from ear to ear. Suddenly we came back to the point along the trail where we had seen those crazy people doing their mud bath. We all looked at each other, nodded with smiles and headed down to become one of those crazy people. There was a man there that seemed to have participated many times, because as we began scraping the mud from a wet, clay-like rock, he began telling us how good this mud was for our skin and how after we finish the treatment we will have never felt our skin so soft. Optimistic, we continued to lather ourselves up with the grayish, yellow mud until we were completely covered. Letting it dry for about ten minutes, the rock turned us all white as it dried, making for quite a fun picture, and then it was time to wash it all off. Sure enough the man was right and minutes later, we oddly couldn’t stop rubbing our arms and faces, astounded at how soft we were. The rest of the day we couldn’t get over what interesting experiences we had been through and how much fun we had had. Being that Ryan and I were leaving early the next day, we all said our goodbyes that night, got each other’s information and parted ways like we’ve had to do so many times with so many different friends.
After a long bus ride the next day, Ryan and I ended up going straight to the airport, despite our flights not leaving until the next day. We just didn’t want any complications or mishaps to occur that would inhibit us from leaving to our next destination. We actually managed to find a good place to sleep that night in some airport chairs that were actually a bit bigger than a typical airport chair you’d come across. I’ve slept in worse, that’s for sure, but even so, it didn’t make for the best feeling neck the next morning which came fast as Ryan’s flight was at 6am. Bleary and tired we got up and after a few yawns and stretches it sort of hit us that this was it. Trekking eleven days to the base camp of Mount Everest, getting chased by a rhino in the Chitwan jungle, being stowaways on a crazy midnight train through India, riding camels through the Thar desert, and now it was time to say goodbye, like we had done to so many great, amazing people we had met along the way. As we heard Ryan’s flight being called, we gave each other our best wishes, gave each other a quick man hug, and off he went to continue his adventure of life. Being that my flight wasn’t for another few hours, I tried going back to sleep but couldn’t as I thought of all the good times Ryan and I had had together in the past two months of traveling. We had done it well; real well.
Soon enough it was my turn. As my flight number was called over the loud speaker, I grabbed my bags and headed towards the gate. Sitting on the plane, I looked out the window and smiled as the plane took off, leaving behind one adventure and now taking me to the next: New Zealand
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