Mouse brains, Spicy Curry, Mad Confusion

Everyone keeps asking if I am excited and if I'm all ready. The obvious answer is Yes and No. Loudly.

I can't believe what Team Good Korma is about to embark on. Dang. We are nuts.

Secondly I have no idea how to prepare for this. According to folks in the know, you can't prepare. It's India and we are attempting to cross vast swaths of it on a pair of shiny autorickshaws. How can you prepare? Yes, we've all had our shots. Many. No seriously, MANY.

The Japenese Encephalitis shots are made from infected, freeze dried, ground mouse brains. Yummy. A coworker was so impressed that he thinks I should update my resume.

I may.

One of the bonuses to getting shot up with infected mouse brains, other then bragging rights, are the friggingly intense dreams. Not like the kind you had in Junior High about the cute brunette in Social Studies Class. No, the kind where you are sitting in your living room watching a movie and you realize the sofa is eating you. You go to scream and your popcorn is forcing itself down your throat, drowning out your cries for help. Just then the end table comes to life and is climbing up your back beating you about the head and shoulders. I've heard the malaria meds have the same Hunter S. Thompson quality to them.

I start those tomorrow...

Naturally we are geared up as much as possible too. We have the minty fresh, new auto rickshaws, camping stuff aplenty, power bars, jerky, insect repellants, mosquito netting, lots of layers of clothes, even wire mesh security bags to lock our stuff to our vehicles. We are physically ready. Spiritually is another thing altogether.

Our phsycological well-being is the only gapping hole in this enterprise. One setting off for unknown parts of India hears such stories. The elephants on the highways, the insanity on the roads, the utter lack of what we'd call sanitation in the restrooms, how to avoid eating things that have touched water, how not to stumble upon bandits, crooked policemen, cobras, or social unrest. I had dinner with my godson last night and he urged me multiple times to "not die." He just kept saying it and I just kept smiling.

Another coworker just told be about the "bobble-head" phenomenon. It seems that when someone in India, usually in a service industry or bureaucratic occupation doesn't want to deal with you, they start "bobbling", for lack of a better descriptive term, their heads. It's kind of a side to side, loose-necked wobble. How fun.

In a short matter of days, hours if you want to break it down to the experiential level, we'll be heading to Moscow to begin our journey. Who knows what we have in store for us. You can be sure to read about it here though. See you soon.

Anthony //