Monday, March 5, 2012

One German, Two German, A Nepali, and the Unlucky One

After being irresponsible and  leaving the Hanuman temple in the pitched black dark, I got to the bottom and saw just two bikes and no locals.  I thought to myself that I really should not have waited until dark as everyone had already went back into town. 
Sitting to the left of me was a German man eating a chapati and sipping on some Chai.  I sat next to him and we immediately hit it off talking about interactions with travelers and our extreme dislike for trance music and the Goa scene.  His name is Will from Germany and he also writes a blog.  I hop on his little motorbike and we venture off back into town-fate. 

I told him I believe in fate and he seemed to think it was a “nice way of thinking.” This is a real way of thinking. People who are not connected with their higher power may not understand, but it is all connected for me.  I work together with my higher power and my life is in his hands.  It is possible that no one could have been at the bottom of the hill and I would be stuck as well, but that was not in God’s plan for me. 

Usually I do not really click with Germans. We just do not seem ot have much in common, but this one I just adored. When we parted, I decided to stop into the restaurant next door.  Chatting with the kitchen staff from Nepal and Punjab, we started to blast some Punjabi music and start dancing. I did not dance in a provocative way at all and I never do. I just dance stupidly to entertain and be funny. The Nepali boy named Dinish kept on making me laugh saying, “Punjabi full power.”   They were amused and I got a discounted “Punjabi”  veggie pizza with an Indian kick ha!

Upstairs I sat contently eating my quite delicious pizza-it is okay to switch it up and eat pizza after being in India for two months.  I met another German, Deborah, who is a beautiful older woman with the heart and spirit of someone my age.  We discovered that we are both “horses.”

Women are like horses.  Some are not meant to be tamed rather they should run wild and free until they find someone just as wild to run with them.

We spoke about love, traveling, and the power of women.  It was such an empowering meeting with her and I loved being around such an amazing woman living outside the socially constructed life.  When she spoke of her first husband and her recent love affair-my eyes lit up with excitement for her.  I thought about my mom and how I wished she was living like Deborah, living, breathing, enjoying men, drinks, food, and exploring.

This day was pretty much perfect until the end.  With it being pitched black, one of the boys gave me a walk home.  He was not one of the three main ones I was dancing and talking with and I actually do not even remember his face.  He walks with me down the dark road and starts putting his arm on my back.  I see what he is trying to do and I tell him that I have a boyfriend and I am not interested so lay off.  He begins to just talk about normal things for a bit and then asks about the men I date.  I tell him I date older men and have no interest in him so forget it.  He then puts his arm again on my back and I tell him to just leave as I am going to walk by myself.  It is dark and I really can not see, but I would rather just walk alone then deal with this annoying behavior. 

Throughout our walk, he keeps on saying he is getting hot and I think he is referring to the temperature until we are getting closer to my house and he starts saying how cute I am and he can’t take it.  I tell him that I am not interested and I clearly tell him that if he tries to make a move on me, I will punch him. I am tired of men not listening to my words. I verbalize my feelings, my disinterest, and they just see this as a green light to take it to the next level.  I have never been in a physical fight and I do not advocate violence, but I will not be physically touched or harmed.  It is called self defense. 

We arrive close to Manju’s place and he goes to give me a hug and I go to shake his hand.  In an instant, he forcefully holds my head and tries to kiss me on the mouth.  I pull away without any contact between us and BAM.  I throw a weak punch to his jaw.  He knew it was coming so he backed off leaving me not enough time to make a full punch and my fish just graced the bottom of his jaw. As most Indians do, they just smile and think it is funny. I walk away feeling satisfied with standing up for myself and for the first time punching a guy who does not listen.   

Wanting to just go write in silence and forget that moment, I come back to my hut to see a man sitting with his face and hands deep inside his food and food all over their face.  As the man lifts his head, I can not recognize who it is with all the food disaster and without the glasses.  I look close and I realize that it is MANJU.  My innocent little Manju was completely wasted drunk.  He could barely even stand.  He was up drinking with a bunch of Germans, which created noise until 4am.  The man who told me this place was “quite,calm, and peaceful” was drunk beyond belief- what a day-Oh India!

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