Goa

Now that my schedule consists roughly of wake up, read the paper, sit on the beach, eat lunch, sit on the beach, splash about in the warm and calm Arabian Sea, shower, eat dinner, sleep, it seems like I have no excuse for neglecting this space.

India, as usual, has been a series of highs and lows. High- celebrating New Years in the Rajasthani desert, singing songs around the fire while our camels gamboled around, grazing on plants. Low- finding out that my Nana died after having spent a day sick in bed in the Salvation Army in Mumbai, a place where most people (though thankfully not us), get bed bugs. High- hopping tearfully in a cab to the synagogue in Mumbai and being instantly surrounded by Jewish warmth (and of course, some irritating Jews from Scarsdale). Low- hour 11 on a warm Indian train cramped into a seat with a million young Indian men and realizing that the whole car was empty except for the dudes who felt the need to surround us. High- asking them politely why they were all in our space when there were plenty of other seats to take and watching as they scatter.

And it goes on.. I think we have firmly left fort exploration in Rajasthan, which is too bad because it afforded us ample time to wander around hunting for new and exciting names carved into the walls "Raju loves Pinky," and I thoroughly enjoyed my meeting with Mr. Sharma, the resident fort palmologist. I was informed that I am very fertile, have no money problems ahead of me, am healthy and will have a good career. Unfortunately Jane and Donovan both distrusted his reading, but I prefer to ignore the inaccuracies in his reading and focus on the positives that my future has in store.

I think that's about as much writing as my chilled out mind has to offer right now. Off to read the news from New Hampshire...