Day 1 - Socks and Superstitions

This blog is now a collaborative effort with Al. It is dismaying that I have no clear memory of  events. You will soon see why.

 Let me see... where was I.... oh yes, we had just finished breakfast. But before I pick up from there I need to go back to Christmas in Canada. Sorry if this is dizzying, but the flow of things isn’t neat.

Looking over what we would need for the trip we realized that we both needed at least one extra pair of cycling socks. Al had the bright idea of asking our son to give them to us for Christmas. Christmas socks what could be more perfect, he thought. Well, things didn’t quite work out that way. Christmas morning came, as did our son sans socks. However he promised to bring them the next day when he returned. He returned alright, but without the socks – they were on his kitchen table, he explained. The day before departure, Al who was about to gave up hope of seeing the socks called our son who, with great effort, no doubt, brought them over. Only later did the significance of this forgetfulness come to mind. It was an omen.

Lunch was just around the corner from our hotel. It was in a cramped, unadorned, busy, loud place that seemed to be very popular with the locals. We were definitely the center of attention being tourists. Had it not been for our guide to order for us and show us how to eat, we would have been at a miserable loss. All in all this was probably the best traditional fare we sampled.

From there it was short walk to a sprawling out door market. Other than the vendors who would approach, follow and relentlessly press you to buy their trinkets, it reminded us of similar markets we had been through in Korea. The place was interesting, and we would have liked it if not for that.

And then we were back to the hotel, under a bright and burning sun, numbed by the cacophony of horns from a terror of traffic. Crossing the street means taking your life in your hands. And then …… holly cow! Literally.

There on the sidewalk, blocking our path was a big black cow. Our guide stopped, seemingly uncomfortable and not sure what to do. Within a minute or two one of our group come up to the cow, gently pushed its head to the side, and we passed by in front.

It would be more than a month before Al made the connection. In North America there is a superstition about black cats. In India the version is black cows!

More to follow