Don't Stop

Ahh, Suryalanka Beach, you are my new favorite. This weekend was the most-- wait, only?-- relaxing break we've had.

We got in at 5am Saturday to the thickest fog I have ever seen in my life-- like swimming. We couldn't see oncoming headlights until they were way too close, and the rickshaw ride from the train station down a long, un-lit country road to the beach left our clothes damp.

Coastal Andrah Pradesh is not known for its beaches-- if you want an Indian beach, you'll go to Goa or Kerela. Suryalanka is still fairly underdeveloped, even though we were lodging in an Andrah Pradesh Tourism run facility. There were few tourists, and those who were there were all Indian. Not that we were in solitude-- that doesn't exist here. There are simply too many people, so there is always someone around/underfoot/overhead. (In this case, it was huge visiting families, snack-wallahs, fishermen, hotel staff, ice-cream wallah with his cart bell ringing as it rolls down the sand...)

Just to the left of the hotel (actually, individual rooms, painted bright blue and elevated 10 feet from the sand), there is a tiny wooden fence running into the surf, over which is the fishing village and their rows of brightly painted boats. (we tried to get in on a fishing boat expedition, to no avail).

We spent the rest of Saturday swimming in the Indian Ocean (newly acquainted, as we were) and making kissy noises at our favorite stray dogs. The top number one pup would wag his tail heartily every time we made the noise at him without fail-- even when he was sleeping. I have no idea why this noise is so universally loved by domesticated dogs and cats, but now I suspect it is nature and not nurture.

Sunday involved further adventures in extreme hospitality (this time, friends of our Hyderabadi Hindi tutor). We were fed, and fed, and fed, and reminded that "More Subji?", "No, thank you", results in more subji on your plate. We had lunch and dinner at two different houses, and at each we were the only ones eating, at each we were given more upon each refusal, and in spite of stuffing ourselves silly, at each house they remarked that we must not like the food (!). It was possibly the most outrageous statement I have ever heard, and all we could do was laugh and swear otherwise, pointing at our huge, empty thalis.

We're getting very good at sleeping on trains, and I can even make my bed on the top bunk while I am sitting on it pretty fast. This is taking into account that I can't even sit up straight without smacking the ceiling with my head.

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Something occurred to me this morning:
-When the power goes out in the office (as it does several times a day), we keep working
-When crossing the street with oncoming traffic, you must keep walking (you just have to figure out the flow and bob and weave)
-When your thali is filled repeatedly, you just keep eating.
-Buses and trains are boarded and disembarked while moving (not always, of course, but it is very very common, and even Bartley and I have jumped from a [slowly] moving bus)

India does not stop, for anyone. You just dive in.