Treading Water

I'm back in Nashik after a few days romp in Mumbai. Indians mistake me and the other white Americans for affluent partiers and remove the velvet rope wherever we go, thinking we're kings of our turf back home. Anyone can appreciate some chilling with the super rich in incredible apartments. Even with the Extravagance, my favorite part of the Mumbai trip was the one hour take-it-easy ferry to Elephanta Island. No elephants to speak of, but mountain-sized Shiva heads and miles of ancient caves.

Now that I'm back I can't avoid this pang of depression that tells me being in India is useless. Cool, sure. But productive? My happiness hinges on whether I feel I'm moving forward, but here I just watch time roll back like a distant wave toward the sea. I keep myself busy (distracted) with traveling, reading, and riding my bike, but whenever I think about why I'm here an empty nervousness starts in my stomach and swims all around.
Things are only compounded with no one to talk to. The only exchange student I'm close to is 6 hours away and we both don't have cell phones so Rotary can't track us. No girls is another problem. So here I am, talking to the damn internet. When my journal-caliber thoughts make it to my photo blog, I worry.

But if you came for another chipper tourist update: I'll be tiger watching later in the year, I bought my ticket for the tent in the Gujarati desert, and the three week tour to South India is only a month away.


who knows