A day of travel


The waiter put his turban on my head

Car travel 

Im writing this as we are completing 12 hours travel from Gwailior to Khajuraho.
 Are my eyes round… you betcha.
We’ve stopped in the middle of a cross road, motor bikes, push bikes and tuk tuks  are attacking us in every direction I feel like Im in  a live pin ball machine.
 Thousands of  birds are roosting in the trees above us and the noise is almost deafening. Its a bit like a sci fi  movie. 
 Its almost dark but for some reason no one feels the need to put their lights on.
Whoops a tuk tuk is coming down our side of the road with his lights off. Everyone seems to navigate with diplomacy, horns blaring, cows sleeping in the middle of the road and children dash out in front of us. We ladies, gasp occasionally and attack the back seat brake but our driver is very skillful. Thankfully.
Small food stalls are set up in every available space. People are walking in different directions, none of this stay in the side of the road….. and when the headlights are finally used they glow through an orange film of dust.
We’ve driven for 20 minutes and still the amount of people and the scenery hasn’t changed.


Yellow globes light the stalls and intensify the colors of the turquoise walls and the produce being sold.
Now its completely dark and we have to complete the rest of the journey on a single lane road with little or no lights, such is the lot of a traveling quilt teacher.
Luana made the observation that for the amount of cows around, you just don’t see cow dung on the road. I guess its scooped up for fuel and fertilizer.
We left at 8.00 am this morning and we’ve been driving through rural India  since then.
The roads have been equal to an outback country track for much of the trip despite being labeled a highway. We can go 40 to 50 kms an hour and we’ve traveled  over 450 kms
A few hours back we saw a sign 100 kms to our destination, half an hour later (on the same road) it was 102 kms to our destination. Were we standing still for half an hour?
We did assist the farmers by running over their crop placed on the road to be winnowed. I think at least 50 times.
Men on pedal bikes and an occasional motor bike, laden with aluminum milk cans start the morning. They venture far into the country, pedaling their little hearts out. I saw one bike with 8 cans hanging off the back wheel. 
How do they do it.

Many families live in mud huts, the doors are open and the day to day pattern is visible to the passer by. The floors are mud, the beds are the main sitting and resting furniture along with a plastic chair or two. It seems that cooling is done by sitting outside specially because the roofs are often old black plastic bags.

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