Arrived

I’m relieved to confirm that my concern that Mysore might not be exotic enough is completely unfounded.

It took me half an hour of walking around just to figure out where toilet paper is sold, so I think I’m going to have plenty in the way of difference to occupy myself for the next few months.

Right now, I’m sitting on the bed in my apartment, listening to the chants from the Ganesha temple across the street. It’s all utterly strange and wonderful and if I can avoid getting run down by taxis and autorickshaws careening about—on the wrong side of road, no less—I may survive long enough to begin figuring things out.

The ride from the airport was thrilling; my driver laid on his horn the whole way and slipped between huge trucks painted with slogans like “Life is a dream and man is an actor in it,” and motorbikes carrying as many as four people simultaneously.

I’m glad I didn’t undertake my original plan, which was to fly into Mumbai and take a 2-day train here. This was plenty.

Now for a walk and an attempt to figure out how coffee is sold.

Success with the coffee—“half coffee”—a kind of sweet “East Coast ‘Regular’” in a thin glass, tastes like warm Vietnamese coffee, for 5 rupees, about 10 cents.

I also scored a bike, one of the classic “Atlas” models, used, in crummy shape, but with the coolest seat cover ever.

I probably paid several times the going rate for a month’s rental, but it’s still less than it cost for a day in Santa Fe last time I was there.

I rode around town a lot and only almost got killed once, when I forgot that traffic is coming from the right; fortunately, it was an autorickshaw I didn’t see and so was able to dodge it at the last minute, something I’d have failed at were it a bus.