By the time I made my way to the guesthouse’s front porch, the owner, Sharmilla, was telling the rest of the group the bizarre story of how her dog survived an attack from a full grown leopard not long ago. When I encountered him the next morning, I could still see the injuries around his neck. He stood to my shoulder, and would be much taller than me if standing up on two legs. For being capable of fighting off a leopard, he surprisingly seemed quiet and gentle.

Exhausted and sweaty from our day trip, Adam and I sneaked away for a shower when everyone else was still engulfed in Sharmilla’s stories. Since the shared bathroom did not have any hangers, we had to take turn holding each other’s clothes while the other cringed convulsively under the icy cold water. Now looking back, to have your already not-too-well-endowed body parts shrunk even further seems rather funny - a much better feeling than the agony I felt when the first ray of water hit my body.

Adam and I were ecstatic when a group member asked if we would like to have some liquor with the evening meal since a few others were in the mood for a little relaxant. Of course we grinned like fools and nodded. The cheap vodka mixed with fresh lime, sugar, and soda water tasted like heaven, especially when you got to share it with friends who do not normally drink. I was feeling good when the light at the guesthouse’s restaurant started to dim at around 10:00. One minute I was lounging lazily against Adam then the next there were shouting for us to get out as fast as we can. What the hell? All I managed was a glimpse of a flashing light before getting shoved unceremoniously barefooted with the others toward the back of the restaurant. My instant two cents: What about my shoes? Are we being arrested because other visitors are doing weeds? The excitement didn’t last long; we were let back into the restaurant after five minutes. Turned out the police came to make sure that the restaurant closes down at 10:00. How nuts!

Afterward, our group reconvened and voted to skip the sightseeing of some places two hours away from Hampi the next day. The morning was much more relaxing since we did not have a schedule except to leave at noon. Many slept in because they stayed up late the night before, chatting and singing (this information came from the others since Adam and I shamelessly put our old bones to sleep at midnight). A few rented motorbikes for a ride. Priti and I ran into each other at the restaurant and decided for a walk along the fields. We later found our way to the top of the stacking stones overlooking our guesthouse. I laughed my head off when she told me to pretend to sleep on a rock for a picture.

For Thoughtworkers Pune, no trips could be called successful until the battles to the death between the mafias and the villagers are settled. If you think they are intense at work, you would shiver at the blood lust in their eyes when playing this game. On being assigned their roles, each automatically turns into a lion mixed with a fox - cunning, fierce, and just damn scary. When these guys try to convince others that you are a mafia, you will feel like a piece of meat that is being chewed, then spit out, then played with, then chewed again. Word of advice, if you have a weak heart but are gung-ho for the thrills, bring extra pants! It’s tricky business when sharing a ride with the mafia. With that in mind, I quit after the forth game and curled into a sleeping ball the rest of the way home.

Modern day Hampi was once the last capital of the last great Hindu Kingdom of Vijayanagar (14th-16th Century). Before being conquered by the Deccan Muslim confederacy in 1565 and then later abandoned, the city with its marvelous temples and palaces flourished under the cotton and the spice trade. Today, the 1600+ surviving structures make Hampi one of the most striking ruins in the world.

After about 300 selfies at the guesthouse’s gate, we headed toward the Tungabhadra river and boarded a pink ferry to be taken accross. I was climbing the steps above the riverbank, enjoying the soothing river breeze when my eyes bulged at the most entrancing and exotic sight: a snake charmer. Dressed in a white shirt and a white/blue lungi, the man sat cross-legged and nonchalantly played his pungi to his dancing snake. My heart jumped out when I saw him reaching over to pet the creepy creature. He kept trying to wave us closer but I didn’t bring enough pants to risk wetting a pair. As amazing as the experience was, I was relieved to know that the practice of snake charming has been declared unlawful - although it’s still active in many rural parts of India.

While we were lost in the feverish frenzy of the snake charmer, our fellow friends had hired four rickshaws for the day. With limited time, we only visited the most important monuments. Most require entrance fees, which are significantly higher (about 25 times) for foreigners than Indian citizens or visitors of SAARC and BIMSTEC. I can see the reason for such differences in price but I could not help but feeling wary. Even so, the breathtaking and well-maintained structures quickly reconciled my uneasiness. I regretted that we did not get to see everything; to absorbed these spectacles properly would take at least a week.

We returned to the riverbank just in time to catch the last ferry at around 6:00 p.m. If we had missed it, we would cross in a coracle (a gigantic floating basket) instead, which would have been quite an adventure. Leaving behind the pink and orange sky at dusk, we once again crossed the empty burnt fields, unknowing of a few interesting events to come that evening.

Leaving Pooja’s wedding from Solapur, we headed south to Hampi, a village in the Karnataka state. Crossing the stateline, everyone must put their name and age on a sign-up sheet to be given to the officers stationed on the highway. The constant potholes made it a rather painful ride when Adam and I sat at the back of the bus. At one point when the front wheels made a sudden drop in elevation, we bounced up at least two feet in the air. I don’t have any b…s but it still hurt like nuts (no pun intended). On the plus side, we did get to try out some paans - mixture of ingredients including betel nut, herbs, spices and often tobacco, wrapped in a betel leaf - which were flavorful yet very uncomforting to the paan-virgin tongues.

We reached Hampi at around one thirty in the morning. I could hear the branches scratching along the side of the bus when we entered the six-feet-wide, unlit and unpaved road that leads to the guesthouse. With only the bus headlight to provide any visibility and no GPS (I’m not even sure if GPS could help in this remote place), our driver missed a turn and drove into a road that unexpectedly narrowed to about only three feet wide. Unable to reverse the bus in the jet-black night, we abandoned ship and walked to our guesthouse, the Goan Corner, which thankfully was only 200 feet away.

Turned out our group of fourteen only had 2 rooms reserved and only 2 persons were allowed in each room. The rooms were actually separate thatch-roofed cots with hammocks on the joined porch. The team courteously gave Adam and I our own room; two other ladies had the other. The rest had to sleep on the uncovered rooftop with provided mosquito nets and thin mats. When I found out that they did not have enough blankets to keep warm, I felt like a spoiled human because we left the ceiling fan running for most of the night in our room.

I found myself awake at 7:00 in the morning despite not having much sleep both nights before. The refreshing air outside had a faint smell of burnt leaves. The guesthouse caretaker used them to boil big tanks of water behind each shared bathroom, not that I saw a drop of hot water from the faucets during our time there. Apparently they will bring you a bucket of hot water if you ask.

Ignoring the mundane facts that the power was cut off most of the time and one must bring his own toilet tissues, the place was absolutely exotic and mesmerizing. A topless young guy of about 18 (who roomed in the next cot) cheerfully greeted us from his front porch while rolling a joint. He has been in Hampi for about a week and will stay for two months. Most people who stays in this area’s guesthouses are “hippy backpackers”. Many do bouldering (a form of rock climbing that is performed without the use of ropes or harnesses) and carry around with them a mattress to ease their fall. One even possesses a hang and gifted us with a melody that could melt a soul.

Being on schedule for a big group was impossible and a nuisance. I often refuse to sympathize and tend to get very impatient. Luckily the unperturbed Bunster was there to remind me to breathe and just enjoy the spectacular view. It was not until 11:00 that we finally headed out for some sightseeing.

An Indian wedding usually spreads over a few days with different functions and rituals. Although a Maharashtrian wedding might be the simplest in the country, the list of ceremonies is still long and too complicated to describe.

As co-workers/friends, we were invited to attend the last day of the wedding. Upon arriving, each of us received a tiny package of colorful rice grains. At first I thought they were wedding favors; but later I found out that they were to be thrown upon the couple at a certain part of the ceremony. Being as short as I am, all the rice landed on the poor guy’s head in front of me (sorry, Shridhar).

Pooja was a graceful and beautiful bride. When she and Saurabh made their entrance, all the young people (and some elderly people) surrounded them and started to burst out moves to the live band music. The colors, the sounds, and the vibrancy were unbelievable. The ceremony followed did not take long (I must admit that it was hard to pay attention when I could not understand most of what was going on). I felt like a monkey, clap and throw rice and ooh-ahhh when everybody else did. Worked out well enough though.

Afterward our team presented the couple with our collective gift (a piece of gold), posed for pictures, then came out to the patio for the reception. We must give big thanks to Shridhar for guiding us through all the confusion and giving disapproving looks to people who tried to cut in front of us. While we fill up our hungry tummies, Pooja and her husband sat on the throne inside the ceremony room to accept more gifts and blessings. How awesome is that?

It was spectacular to be able to witness the official joining of two souls. We were very thankful and honored to be included in such a beautiful and special event.

Live long and prosper, Pooja and Saurabh!

The first Thanksgiving without families and turkey turned out to be just as amazing spending with friends immersing in Indian cultures and customs. Pooja, Adam’s co-worker, was saying goodbye to her single life and we were very honored to be a part of it.

On Thursday night, we celebrated Gobble Gobble day with a hefty load of KFC. Being the shameful last-minute packers that we are, we only had a three hours sleep before heading to Solapur. Thankfully, the Thoughtworkers team had made all the arrangements for the trip so we only have to drag our zombie bodies down to the front of our complex to meet the bus. We had insider information that it will be there at around 4:15, so we went down at 4:00. Naturally, the happy thing didn’t arrive until 5:00. An hour breathing the fresh morning air wasn’t too bad, if not counting all the blood I lost to the dang mosquitoes.

On the way, we stopped for breakfast at a restaurant that has the most flies I have ever seen. But to be fair, the place was very clean and the food was decent. Maybe the flies just like to sunbathe on the shiny metal tables. Oh well, you have the right to live and enjoy life as any other creatures on this Earth, friend Flies! (Adam has been reading about Taoism and it’s rubbing off on me)

After a five-hour ride, we arrived to a house that Pooja’s family has rented for the guests to rest. From the 2nd floor balcony, I felt strangely peaceful watching a man pushing a fruit cart along the side of the field while the cows munching leisurely on some grass. Below, some of the guys decided for a quick game of cricket in the small paved backyard before getting ready for the ceremony. Adam and I opted to read instead, sweating profusely did not seem to be a fun start for a wedding.

• 2.5 months in India.
• Had a blast attending an Indian wedding in Solapur and hanging out with friends/co-workers in scenic Hampi last weekend.
• The weather has been extremely pleasant; I cannot say I miss the winter in the U.S.
• Adam got a fever last night. Poor the fur ball, too much play and not enough sleep.
• The planning for Nepal trip in Feb is 95% done. Tickets booked, hotels/guest houses reserved. Only thing left is to confirm guide and porter for trekking trip.
• Two more weeks until we fly home for the break. Way behind on Christmas shopping.
• Breakfast and lunch are much more comforting now that the food vendors are changed in the cafeteria. I kept finding hairs in my food with the old ones. Haizz… and sometimes I don’t think they were hairs from the head.
• Favorite Indian starter: chicken lollipop. Succulent flavorful heaven.
• I know I’m spoiled when I cannot do business in a swat toilet. I even sang to coax myself but it didn’t work. Bahhh.
• Always bring toilet paper when traveling in India.
• I told Adam that it would be cloudy all the time we were in Solapur and Hampi. The result? He got some serious sunburn. The lesson? Don’t trust Thien to look up the weather.
• Cutest Indian saying: “click”. They use the word “click” instead of “take picture”. Such as: “Will you click me?”, “Nice clickworks!”
• Big banana: 5 rupees each. Tiny banana: 5 rupees each. What??? How could that be when they taste equally good? Oh well, bigger is better.
• I haven’t seen my guava man for almost a week. I’m worried and sad. But that did not stop me from having an affair with another guava man who sells red-flesh guavas. I mean, even Bunster does not blame me.
• I must confess my shame to maah spoony sister: I eat McDonald!!!! And I like it. The McSpicy is so good here.
• I think I’m starting to like India.

November has always been my favorite month of the year. The air seems sweeter, the sky bluer, and the sun more warm and radiant. November is the time for pumpkin beer, pumpkin pie, pumpkin and oxtail cous cous, pumpkin ginger bread pudding, Starbucks pumpkin spice latte, pumpkin pancakes (for Adam, Thien eats banana blueberry pancakes), Thanksgiving, first batch of homemade eggnog, and Christmas tree decoration (at Mama’s).

If I were in Texas, Adam and papa Fred would make a fire about this time. Papasito has this awesome fire pit made from an end of a huge propane tank (it has made the list to be the family heirloom). Then we would roast the last of the habaneros and jalapenos from the garden with bacon and cream cheese. The sizzling sound of the bacon fat dripping on the scorching wood usually drives us frenzy. After gobbling down a whole stuffed habanero in one shot, gung-ho Adam and Rebecca would have to flap their tongues like some nuts while smokes seeping out the their ears (Thien does not de-seed completely, hee hee). Oh well, since those two would be a little handicapped after that brave episode, more yummies for evil Thien!

November in India does not come with the turning of the leaves but the gorgeous weather brings much comfort to my nostalgia. Today I woke up at 2:00p.m hungry like a bear. Adam fed me some chicken momos (dumplings) with hot sauce then we ventured out for some more snacks. It felt so good to be walking under the warm sunlight, observing all the happiness around. Happy Thien wants to give everybody bear hugs, with drools and paws and everything. Since I didn’t really dare to hug anybody, I took lots of pictures instead. Of course the Bunster sang the “Thien took wayyyyyy too many pictures” song, but he’ll be thankful when he is creepily old and his memory is dimmed. Thien will remind you of the good old days, Bunster… with kick-ass illustrations too!

Today I want to curl into a ball and roll around. But I can’t since my bed is too small and the floor is too hard (and roaches run on it sometimes too). How I wish for some oxtails to gnaw on right now. This meatless land is making me weak and restless. My teeth are itchy. I have becoming increasingly bite-ty. Maybe in another month, even BoBeQue (hehehe) will start to sound good. Num num. Nom nom.

So I and the Bunster have decided to make a trip to Nepal the first week of February. I’ve been planning nonstop for the past week. Now when I close my eyes, all I see are travel search engines and currency converters. The cranky Bunster is excited to go but does not want to hear about any of the planning. Oh well, don’t complain when Thien leads you to a place that serves mountain oyster and tell you that it’s fried cheese stick. Hah! Num num. Nom nom.

I will go chant Pancakes and be happy!

Time flies. Too fast for my own good.

India has been a treat, but it has also been a burden. Some days I wake up feeling invincible, like nothing could stop me from having all the fun in the world. I dress up pretty, parade happily on the streets, smile and wave at familiar faces (sometimes I wave at strangers by mistakes too), and chip chirp until Adam’s ears fall off. Some days I just want to claw somebody’s face out thinking of mundane things such as will we have dial up speed for the Internet, will I be able to find this location that is clearly marked on Google Map (much harder to find in real life), will a beggar child jab at me today while others stare to see if I would part with any rupees, is my family in danger of Ebola at home, do we have enough change for a snack and a rickshaw ride…

I love the feeling of being able to walk to many places. Children play loudly in the yard everyday. They run, and scream, and dance. Street food are inexpensive yet delicious. Many seem to be healthy; I rarely ever see a chubby person let alone any obesity. Women and men love to wear traditional clothes. Everybody is festive. Dogs walk around unafraid to be eaten. There are always beautiful exotic tropical flowers on the streets. Fruits and vegetables are fresh and full of flavor.

I feel guilty that I don’t dare walking through a slum for fearing that I could be harmed in some way. I do not know Hindi and I don’t even attempt to learn any. I am guilty for being disappointing when a person here does not speak English (which is most of them). I neglect washing the dishes some day because I know housekeeping will do it. I would not give money to beggars but eat expensive meal sometimes.

I hate to always have my backpack checked and tied up (so I couldn’t steal anything) when entering a mall, a bank, a convenient store, a grocery store… The Internet is too slow and unsteady. Not many people smile, nobody hugs. Some locals feel just to charge me more because I’m a foreigner. Any paper works is a nightmare. Some people appear to be malnourished and overworked. Beef, pork, and tofu are hard to find, almost non-existent. Garlics are tiny (very painful to peel).

But all in all, the goods are really good and the bads are really not that bad. And learning to embrace cultural and life-style differences are challenges I gladly accept as many times as I’m given the chance.

I will love you India - in time!

• Is the 8th most populous city in India.
• Is the 2nd most populous city in the state of Maharashtra.
• Is 558 meters (1831 feet) above sea level.
• Area: 700 square kilometers (270 square miles).
• Languages: Hindi, Marathi.
• Is an IT hub and home to many universities.
• Has the temperature range of 15°C-35°C (60°F-95°F).
• Monsoon season: Mid June to mid September - dry heat in the morning, wet and rainy in the evenings .
• Winter is from mid November to mid February - dry, cold nights, warm days.
• Spring is from mid February to end of March - warm days and nights.
• Has a good amount of tree. Pretty green in general.
• Polution index: 79.13 (Sai Gon: 93.41, Baltimore: 76.21, London: 23.28)