These are arranged by date - at the moment, they are not all that well organized or well explained.  So explore at your own risk:-)  When I've time, I will create one 'best of' album with descriptions and whatnot. 

But now, for your viewing pleasure:

India #1

India #2

India #3

India #4

India #5

Need to go...four more albums coming.  But power almost out. 

For the past few days I've been in Hampi, a small tourist town in Karnataka surrounded by vast and amazing ruins.  Most of you have probably been more informed about the events in Mumbai than I have...  One of our rickshaw drivers said something in passing at the very beginning of the attacks, but since then we've been focused on keeping dry in the rains that fell today and trying to cover as many of the locations as possible. 

Tomorrow night we take a train from Hampi to Delhi to Chandigarh, and we do not stop in or near Mumbai.

Hampi is teeming with old temples and bazaars - there are literally hundreds of buildings on any given tourist map, and many more smaller structures that seem to appear out of nowhere.  Some of the ruins are pretty well closed-off, but a good number are free for anyone to climb in, around, and on. 

I creeped through quiet, dark rooms with reliefs engraved on the walls and sometimes the remnants of tiny idles appearing out of nowhere - animals roam about freely, so that I've not only been in ruins, but in ruins with monkeys and cows and bats.  It's easy to feel like Indiana Jones, until you come out of a dark place and see an older French couple lollying about in the grass. 

Today we meant to rent bikes to ride to some of the ruins we've not yet seen (the royal centre, as it's called) but due to the rain we decided to take an auto-rickshaw and then walk from ruin to ruin. 

The royal centre is one of the more touristy of the sites, which means that it's well-maintained with green lawns and (sadly) gates that won't let you climb up those narrow staircases.  But it was fun to run around in the drizzling rain, and it strangely felt a bit like Scotland (except with elephants carved in stone temples instead of castles. 

I've finally found a place to upload photos onto the internet, and am currently getting the albums settled in so that I can post links for all to see. 

Happy Thanksgiving! 

Once again, I've not much time on the internet, so only a brief, less-than-detailed update. 

The biggest thing that's happened recently is that there was a scene in the movie where the Ashram burned. 

Cory and Nicole had a starring role running away from it with the head fake-swami.

I was nearby, watching the whole event.  It was intense.  The place went up quickly, and a crowd had gathered to witness, but the flames were close and hot and everyone was running away as plumes of black smoke rose to the sky and the tree nearby caught a bit on fire and it was like when they burn the temple at Burning Man but in India and seemed a bit less in-control. 

Luckily, they did have a water truck and they were able to put out the flames.  I wish I could upload pictures, because it was a pretty amazing site.  The way shooting has gone, my inclination is to believe that they have cut out the scene in which I have my lines, but it's hard to tell.  Things on the set are confusing.  Imagine the hecticness of a large movie set in America.  With an Indian understanding of organization.  And everyone shouting and speaking in a language you don't understand at all.  Then add a building going up in flames.

Other than that, we've finally left our Malampuzha homebase and are now out traveling.  At the moment, we're in Bengalaru (Bangalore) for a day, hanging out and sight-seeing before catching a night train. 

We spent a few days in Cochin, which was a huge culture shock - it's a touristy little seaside town, and we were not used to seeing so many Westerners.  The restaurants all had silverware and things like grilled cheese sandwiches on the menu.  The town itself is pretty, with some interesting old Dutch architecture, the oldest Synagogue on the subcontinent, and fishing nets by the ocean - but the three of us were all a bit too shell-shocked by all the weird-looking white people to take it in very well.  We did stay at a very nice place (for 5 bucks a night) that had high ceilings and a very friendly and helpful staff.  After that, we went on a backwater houseboat, which is a luxurious little cruise through the tributaries near alleppe.  It was just the three of us in a two-person room and the staff.  It was good to sit and relax and watch the boats and villages go by, but at night the room was muggy hot and I had a ridiculous half hour trying to find the coolest spot to put the mattress (I was on the floor, per usual) and the right combination of clothing and bug spray. 

From there, we headed onto the train, which in the three-tier a/c compartment was actually a pretty comfortable and cozy ride. 

Kerala was a beautiful and interesting experience, and I'm glad to be in cooler weather.

I'm wearing a long-sleeved shirt for the first time in ages. 

Basic news: We are not going to Chandigarh for the parade, due to scheduling changes and the like, but instead will travel around Kerala and Karnatica before heading North, including going on a backwaters houseboat, biking to ruins, and possibly seeing 'cave temples' (entire cavewalls turned into temple-designs and the like).

I don't have enough time to cover everything that has happened since I last wrote, so I will simply tell you about the 24 hours between Friday night and Saturday night which comprised the strangest day of my relatively strange life. 

Friday night we went to Kalpathy, the Brahmin village between where we live and Palakkad.  There is a 500-year-old car festival there (maybe older) that is amazing and difficult to describe : massive, ancient, hugely heavy floats are pulled by huge crowds of yelling people through the streets as they are pushed by elephants.  It is the sort of exhilarating, visceral cultural even that doesn't happen very much in America. 

We had participated in the festival on Thursday morning, but Friday night we arrived too late (and near the wrong temple) to do the actual pulling.  Instead, we wandered around the hustle and bustle, and quickly made a friend: a twenty or thirty-something man who wanted to talk to us about Western music.  He said he was studying classical western music and very much liked Beethoven and Mozart, the moonlight sonata being his favorite work.  He also liked Madonna and Michael Jackson.  He was a piano-player and a singer.  He asked us if he could sing a song for us.  We obliged.  So, while we were walking through the crowded Indian streets at night, he started to sing an ethereal, beautiful, and complete version of "My Heart Will Go On," the Celine Dion song from Titanic.  If you have never walked through an ancient village during a festival in India with a stranger serenading you with a Celine Dion song, I will tell you that it is a surreal experience. 

Then he asked Us to sing for Him, and out of my head I sang a verse and the chorus of "this land is your land," which was the most "American" song I could think of. 

Then it was time to go home, and we ran into a man we'd met at the Karnatic music festival, and he showed us a place to eat at that time of night, and we had 3 or 4 dhosas a piece and tea for what came to be 80 cents for all three of us. 

Saturday was the first day of shooting for the bollywood movie.  Nicole, Cory and I went to the hotel in the morning.  Tony was not going to shoot with us, since he wanted to oversee the work at the Rock Garden.  The producer drove us to the set just outside of town, near the rice fields behind a very large billboard selling jewelry.  The set was a fake Ashram and its leader's chambers.  Huge posters of the Swami were all over the place.  The movie's title translates as 'father and son,' and the lead actor is apparently a huge comedic star in Kerala.  That was all we knew going in.  

We were led to a place to take a seat, and one of our handlers told me that I had a short, simple line of dialog.  Which came as a total surprise, but which I was incredibly psyched about.  

After a short while, we went back to get our wardrobe and make-up: We were all dressed in green swami outfits (think indian togas), with the requisite hindu dot on the forehead and all.  

We sat around for quite a bit, waiting to be called in for our scene, and we struck up conversations with our fellow actors.  One was an Indian photographer, painter, and actor who was based now in Dubai, and one had a daughter who was a dancer and TV anchor. 

At one point I asked one of our actor-friends where the toilet was.  He went off and came back with the producer, whom I followed to his car.  We drove to a nearby hotel, the producer talked with the man at the front desk, he got a key, we went up the stairs and into what seemed to be a randomly-chosen hotel room, and I used the facilities there. 

When I got back to the waiting area, someone pointed out that my outfit had fallen down in the back and my underwear was showing, which may have been the case from the time I had left the vehicle.  The Dubai painter, who is a pretty big dude, helped me fix it up and get it on tight.

One of the producers asked us where Tony was, and we said that he was busy at the Rock Garden and would not be shooting today - they looked panicked and ran off. 

About half an hour later, Tony showed up having been persuaded by the producers to shoot for the day. 

A producer came by to give us our lines.  Tony's were: "This is too much!  Please you must let us leave immediately!"  My line was:

"You are torturing us!" 

We stepped onto the set, and the director came over to describe the scene to us: we were westerners in an ashram, we needed money, and we were angry.  The swami was a fake swami.  That was all we knew of the plot, and all we know to this day.

The makeup people came over and put some drops in our eyes that stung like the dickens and they reddened our eyelids. 

In the first shot, Tony throws open some large doors and we enter into the chambers, glaring at the Swami angrily.  The director kept saying 'angry, angry' in a way that reminded me of the translator who repeats 'more intensity' in Lost in Translation.

In the next shot, we confront the relaxing swami.  He looks at us with a start, and Tony gives his line about wanting to leave.  The swami's assistant pleads with us to calm down, that they will give us money and we can go to Goa.  Then I look at the swami with anger, point my finger angrily and  shout 'you are torturing us.'  We glare at the Swami angrily for a moment, and then turn and walk away quickly. 

I have a line in a broad Indian comedy, and I play an angry foreigner trying to escape a fake Ashram.

Weird. 

After shooting, we headed back to our cottage to change and get settled, and then it was time to go to the last night of the car festival. 

I don't think I can properly describe the scene - the streets are crowded with men and women, boys and girls of all ages.  The huge cars carry idols from temple to temple.  Shirtless drummers play incessant rhythms constantly.  Old women, young men, and children grab onto two huge ropes and shout and chant as they pull the massive cars down the street.  We are graciously invited to pull the rope along with the locals, and it is strangely thrilling to be a part of such an intense cultural ritual.  The 'drivers' turn the car by placing down blocks to stop it and direct it, so after a while of pulling the car stops and the entire crowd recoils back toward the car.  Sometimes the car (it is more like a chariot, actually) moves for hundreds of feet, sometimes barely at all before it comes to a halt.  From the back, an elephant pushes the chariot.I love elephants!  As the chariot comes close to the temple, it becomes more and more difficult to pull it.  A group of boys befriends me (as is often the case), asking my name, where I'm from, what I think of Obama, if I will take a picture with them.  Nicole and Cory are adopted by a group of girls.  For twenty minutes, it seems like there is no progress - so close to the temple, we rope-pullers have to go down into an alley, which means the rope goes around some scaffolding. 

Somehow, the chariot finally gets close enough, and we all shout and scream and set the rope on the ground.  Cory and Nicole start walking away with the girls, and my new friends tell me to join them - we are invited into a temple, where men give us tiny free bananas, people pray before an idol of ganesha (the elephant god) and we walk around, out of place but accepted in the incense-filled temple. 

After a quick, shoeless tour, we step out into the night, uncertain of what to do next. 

There I stand, with a blessed and holy tiny banana in my hand, hungry and in need of nourishment but not sure what to do.  (For those who don't know, the only food I hate is bananas.  I'd rather eat an insect). 

Nicole, knowing my distaste, encourages me to overcome my bananaphobia and eat it.  So, in the humid Indian night, I have a showdown with the tiny banana.  I am out of water, so I borrow some from Nicole and Cory.  I stare at the banana for a few minutes, turning it over in my fingers, having a battle with the banana and myself and my hunger.  Then, finally, I open the banana and shove it into my mouth and chew it and eat it as quickly as possible and chase it with water and then drink more water and look down at the empty banana peel in my hand and drop the banana peel on the ground in the Indian fashion and decide that the experience of eating the banana was actually not all that bad. 

Banana-hating Brett ate a banana and kinda liked it, and then LeaveNoTrace-indoctrinated Brett unabashedly littered .

Total weird.

A link to an article (with pic) about us Americans here in Kerala.   (click on the word 'link')