Final lesson of the Himalaya's: Everyone has a story!

I apologize that I’m finishing this story two whole months after the fact…but please forgive me I promise to get my blogging back on point.


So the hail storm only got worst as we went down so we tried to find shelter under a rock. We includes me, Kristen, the guide, and the horse. I had an umbrella so it made things somewhat better but all I could think about was how was this about to end? Would we have to wait another three hours to try to go down again? Would we end up staying the night on the mountain? The hail seemed never-ending, but after another hour or so it stopped and we started our way back down. At this point Kristen and I are soaked and just want to get the hell off this mountain but on the way down we run into another Aussie woman at a small tea shop. Of course Kristen could not resist a chat w/ her home girl. This is when it gets interesting.

Were sitting around talking and Kristen poses the question what’s your story to the Aussie woman, let’s call her Fran. Kristen believed that everyone in India had a story. Kristen’s story was that she was a relationship counselor from Australia who was dealing with a failing marriage. Two years ago she was in a terrible car accident and was told that she was paralyzed. After intense therapy and clearly God she managed to get the strength to travel. So she told her husband she was taking some time for herself and decided to spend six months between Nepal and India. This story wasn’t that new for me. I had met two other women who also fled to India because of failed marriages. The only thing that confused me about all this was why they picked India? I think they all wanted a spiritual awakening…I mean they were all there to see the Dalai Lama. I didn’t really feel like I had a story but after opening up a little to Kristen she assured me that I was also heartbroken and seeking love from a man and developing strength within myself. I didn’t know how to take that but since she said she was a relationship counselor I figured some of it had to be true. Our stories however were nothing compared to Fran’s.

Fran told us that her and her partner were in India celebrating 10 years. Now originally when she said partner I didn’t even assume she meant a woman. She tells us how she and her husband had also been having hard times. (At this point I’m wondering who is having a successful marriage) They had an on and off marriage and had been separated for some time. Then one day he comes to her and says that he has to be honest with her….he proceeds to tell her that he believes he was born in a man’s body and is indeed a woman and that this is the reason why they have been having so many problems. (That awkward moment when you just smile and say wow) Fran takes this information and decides that he’s right. Since then they have been to Thailand to have the full operation and her husband is now Jane and they were in Dharamsala to celebrate their 10 year anniversary. Kristen blurts out “so would you consider yourself homosexual now?” Fran says “I guess so; this all just proved to me that it was about the person he was within.” I didn’t know what to say but that she was a strong woman to truly accept this new life and I was proud of myself because I really wasn’t judging her, I was truly listening to her perspective and thinking “damn girl…you ride or die for real ” in my head the whole time.

Kristen was right. Everyone I met in Dharamsala had a story. There were people who were working with Tibetan refugees, hippies who were just enjoying the scenery, backpackers searching for their purpose in life, and monks seeking inner peace. I spent another two days taking a Tibetan cooking class, learning about the Free Tibet movement, shopping for elephants, getting a Tibetan massage,trying  to go paragliding but never being successful, and going to the Dalai Lama’s teaching.

My trip to the Himalaya’s was everything I needed and since it’s been about two months since then I could use it again. I am so proud of myself for doing this all by myself. I took creepy Indian buses throughout the night for a total of 30 hours, climbed a mountain, and scored tickets to see the Dalai Lama…all by myself. I always knew I was a strong person but this trip reiterated the strength I have within myself to continuously challenge myself to become a better person.

Playa in the Himalaya's: Trek Day pt.1

Trek Day

So I started off the morning at 7:00am. After doing research with the locals I was told that it was unnecessary for me to pay a guide for the trek. Everyone told me there was no way I could get lost and that I would see many people along the way. So to save some money I took their advice and geared up to do the trek alone with the hope that I would run into other tourists. After having a hearty breakfast I find a taxi that can take me to the Govi Temple. I could have walked but I would be saving myself 2km by taking the taxi and starting the trek from the Govi Temple. This sounded great until the roads were blocked and I was forced to get out the taxi and walk. The driver assures me that it will only take me five minutes but of course 20 minutes goes by and I still don’t see this damn temple and more frightening I don’t see any tourists. I finally make it to the temple and see two guys enjoying a chai. I ask them for directions and they direct me towards what they call the “path to Truind”. Truind is the top of the mountain that I ‘m trying to get to. They tell me it should take me about an hour or two.

Happy that I saw two people I start out on my trek. What was supposed to be a smooth path was jumbles of rocks…I had no idea where to go but up. At this point I’m wondering if it was a bad idea for me to do this by myself. I’m looking down and see that all it takes is a small slip and I’m dead. I’m not exaggerating that’s forreal. Did I mention I’m afraid of heights? I take a second to get my head together and then I give myself a pep talk saying “you got this Marty”. After 20 minutes I’m again in this forest alone, wondering if I’m going the right way, and feeling like I can’t breathe. This continues for another hour with me stopping every 20-30 minutes to sit down and give myself another pep talk. The worst part and the best part about this trek was the unknown. I had no idea if I was going the right way and I had no idea when it would be over. I had to just have faith and keep going.


I keep going and after another 30 minutes I finally see a white woman and I’m so excited! She was very short though, so my excitement didn’t last long….all hope wasn’t lost though. I had finally made it to the mountain tea shop which was midway. While I was there I met an Aussie woman. I didn’t get to keep up with her for the rest of the trek up because she was on a horse but she was nice enough to give encouraging words as she rode by each time. The other woman would just walk by like I was in her way. Umm, maam! Do not throw shade….I’m a black woman in the damn woods, climbing a damn mountain, by my damn self! They both had guides though so it made me feel better to just stay behind them and follow the way. After about another hour and a half I had finally made it to the top.


To my disappointment there was nothing but fog! I had purposely set out early to make it to the top before the afternoon fog…shady! I didn’t spend much more than 10 minutes at the top. I couldn’t believe I walked all that way and didn’t even get to see the view of the mountains. Even worst, everyone was leaving because a storm was approaching! ARE YOU SERIOUS?!?


The Aussie woman Kristen suggested I stick with her and her guide for the walk down. With the storm it could get very dangerous. So I listened to her and feared for my life the whole walk down. For the first half we waited in a cave; it wasn’t raining too hard so I thought we should do as much as we could while it wasn’t too bad but our Indian guide advised against it. That was until it started hailing and he realized the storm wasn’t stopping anytime soon. So there I was idk how many feet above the ground on a mountain, trying to go down in a hail storm! All I could do was pray with each step. I slipped about five times on a rock and each time I felt like I was dancing trying to save myself from falling over.


Read the next post to see how this all ended! I usually write too much so I’m trying to break the stories up; there’s just so much to tell you all!

Playa in the Himalaya’s: Days 6-8 FINE ASS RAJ lol

Day 6: So in day 5 I told you about my mountaintop boo Raj but I didn’t give the entire scoop. After I played in the waterfall I trudged back down and found a cool teahouse overlooking the small river bank. My plan was to get a cup of chai and read some more but that plan was thrown out the window as soon as fine ass Raj said “Hello”. And for the record his name through this entire post will be “fine ass Raj”. At first I took him for any other Indian guy but thought he was a little cute but after talking to him for about five minutes I realized I really enjoyed his company and conversation. I was almost upset that I introduced myself in my Indian name “Malika” because he could only address me as such for the entire rest of the trip.


Raj had many jobs in his 23 years he was a yoga instructor, a trek guide, played the sitar, did some other stuff and has decided to pursue being a tattoo artist. Each time he finished a sentence he would take his whole palm and glide his fingers through his hair. Any other time I probably would have thought that to be such a “girly” thing to do but with fine ass Raj it seemed so normal. I sat at that café for an hour or so before a thunderstorm kindly came by to interrupt my “Eat, Pray, Love” moment. The good part was that by then we had already exchanged numbers. He asked me out to get pizza….claiming to know the best place in Dharamsala. I don’t know if he suggested pizza because I was American but for once I didn’t care about being stereotyped. We met for pizza and again got stuck in the restaurant due to a hailstorm, but this time it was for three hours and we had plenty cups of chai to keep us warm. It was at this restaurant Unity Bistro that we met Babagi.

Babagi is just a respectful way to address an older Indian man with baba meaning father and gi being a little extra. Babagi kept referring to me as the Hindu goddess Parvati and fine ass Raj as her husband Shiva. You could tell fine ass Raj was so embarrassed because he kept trying to tell Babagi that we were not married and he kept covering his face in embarrassment. Eventually Babagi let it go but not without a Hindu song! He sang, and sang, and sang the same song over, and over again. I eventually learned the words but after awhile I was praying that the storm end and we get out the place. Eventually it did and we spent the rest of the day at the Dalai Lama Temple with the monks.

Day 7: I simply spent the morning at a café reading and spent the rest of the day shopping! I got all types of stuff…a wall hanging, furry slippers, satchels, and my best buy; the cutest ELEPHANT PANTS! All for other folks of course.

Day 8: TREK DAY aka MY DYING DAY

I just realized I have too much to say about this and it will have to have its own separate post lol.

Playa in the Himalaya’s: Day 3-5 Chillin and Cryin at the Waterfall

Day 3: So after seeing the Golden Temple and all its beauty I felt the heat overcoming my body and I had to divert from the original plan of staying the whole day and sightseeing turned into me catching the first bus out of there. Again I sat in the front of the bus next to the driver and held onto my luggage for dear life. After another 6 hour bus ride I arrived to Dharamsala at about 9:00 at night. As soon as I got off the bus almost four Indians ran up to me “room Madame?” OMG. Let me get off the damn bus! I finally succumb to the continuous offer of a cheap hotel because my original hotel plans fell through. As I’m walking to this new cheap hotel I have another moment of fearing my life as I walk down the dark streets and finally arrive at stairs. I immediately put my guard up “Wait, where is the hotel?”….” just down these stairs Madame…not far”. As much as I didn’t want to go down those steps once I took the first step I knew I couldn’t turn back because at that point what were my other options? The hotel was sus but it did the trick.



Day 4: I spent the morning sitting at a café sipping cappuccinos and trying to convince my family that I’m alive and well. The rest of the day I spent trying to find my original guesthouse; House Om Tara. On the website this guesthouse was supposed to be a peaceful get away from the hustle and bustle of Mcleoganj but I missed the part that it was a getaway in the forest. I follow the directions of taking an auto to a neighboring town and call myself following the roads that should eventually lead to this guesthouse. After a half hour with my backpack killing my back, sweat running down chest, and nothing but trees around me I admit to myself that I’m lost. I feel helpless because my phone isn’t working to call the owner and the one guy I did see has no idea what guesthouse I’m talking about. BLOWN! I finally walk another half an hour and find an internet café. I use someone’s phone and finally get the help of the owner. Turns out I was going in the opposite direction and once I started on the right path to the guesthouse I wanted to die….the owner kept saying…”not too much further” as it became further and further. To make matters worse once I arrived…it turned out to be a squatter toilet and a damn bucket shower! So much for a relaxing shower. The real blower came once the crazy thunder storm invaded the mountain and didn’t stop the entire night…creating a frigid night’s sleep that could only be somewhat alleviated with “The Devil Wears Prada”. I went to sleep hoping tomorrow would be better.


Day 5: I spent my entire day reading! I brought a new book Shantaram. It’s all about an Australian guy who was a heroin addict and breaks out of jail. He flees to Mumbai, India and ends up starting a free health clinic in the slums, becomes a part of the Indian mob, acts in a Bollywood film, and gets thrown in an Indian jail all within eight years. I don’t know if it was the reading or the fact that I was alone in a forest but this was my most emotional day. Waking up to the beautiful view of the mountains and being alone made me sad. In between reading I couldn’t stop thinking about my family. Sometimes I feel like I’m missing too much from my family’s lives. Especially my little cousins, some nights I cry because I feel like I’m failing them by not being there. I try to remember that I’m far away for them; because I want them to have an example and something to aspire to but it’s really hard not being a part of their everyday lives. With that, I decided to dry my tears and do something. So I decided to partake on another draining journey to the Bhagsu falls. That didn’t help my emotions because I just cried more once I was there because I was sad my family wasn’t there to see it. The walk up to the falls was exhausting to say the least but the time spent splashing around and swimming in the falls was exhilarating! There was a feeling that came over me that I struggled to define for about 12 minutes but I’ve settled on that feeling being pure happiness, I was just so happy that I was there, and more importantly that I was truly enjoying myself. The best part about this day though was meeting FINE ASS Raj aka my mountaintop boo! You must read the next post to find out all about him lol.

Playa in the Himalaya’s: Day 2- THE GOLDEN TEMPLE aka CLUB GT !!!!

I know I may have left you hanging and wondering what happened….but that’s the point right.



Day 2:


Luckily the bus driver was a nice guy and decided to make me move. At first I didn’t know how to react to this but I listened and once I got to the front of the bus, he warned me that I wasn’t around safe people and that I shouldn’t fall asleep near them. He gave me the okay to fall asleep in the front of the bus but after his warning I still didn’t feel comfortable. After a 12 hour ride and what turned out to be the best chicken I’ve had since in India from the side of the road, I finally arrived in Amritsar at 7:30am. I came all the way to see the famous Golden Temple. It is known as one of the most beautiful and the most sacred site for the Sikh faith.


Before entering the temple I was instructed to cover my head, take off my shoes, and wash my hands and feet. The security took these rules very seriously; I put my shoes in my bag because although it was a temple, I remembered that scene from Slum dog Millionaire when Jamal and Salim steal people’s shoes from the Taj Mahal. The guard saw them in my bag and would not allow me to enter without taking them to the shoe stand, then once I returned he questioned me several times about whether I had tobacco or alcohol in my bag. I repeatedly told him no but even after letting me pass I could tell he didn’t believe me. Upon entering I literally stopped at the top of the stairs and could do nothing but say “ WOW”. That was just the first of my many WOW moments on this trip.


I walked down the stairs and stood across from what I thought was the most amazing things I’ve ever seen. An immediate reverence came over me. I stood and just looked for about twenty minutes then I sat and looked for another 20 minutes. There were fish in the water and people dipped their feet in, washed their faces, and some had their full bodies immersed in the water as if they were going for a swim. I couldn’t dare put more than my feet in the water. Everyone was looking at me like” Why is she here?”, but I was grateful that rather than asking me questions that in the temple all they felt was appropriate was a simple stare. The stares only heightened once I decided that I was going to actually go inside the temple and see what goes on. As I stood in the never ending line of people with offerings known as “langars” I could only imagine all that was going through their heads, and I know they were dying to ask me something. Once I finally made it inside I was greeted with drums and singing. There were elaborate decorations of orange and fuchsia flowers to compliment the gold everywhere. I really don’t mean to offend anyone but being inside made me think of being in a nightclub. You know the fancy ones that have 3-4 levels and every floor has something different? That’s exactly what it felt like, upon entering each floor there was a different drummer ( dj) and form of worship occurring (dance). I went all the way to the rooftop where there were very little people. The people up here were devoted worshippers and engaged in their praise. A man came over to me and asked me where I was from. I kindly told him the U.S. and geared up for the many questions that would follow. Instead of questioning me he simply shared some advice and you couldn’t tell me God wasn’t speaking through him. “ You know, you may be having a hard time with your job, feeling uneasy or like things aren’t right, but this is very peaceful place; sit here for maybe five minutes and just think and clear your head, everything will be ok”. For those that don’t know, I have been more than uneasy and unsure about my job here in India. I’ve shared about me doubting my purpose but over time it has grown to just being frustrated with everything about the job. Just before leaving for this trip I had a hard week, and felt that I was becoming a target but prayer helped me handle the situation the “Spelman” way. I read somewhere that if you don’t like the situation you’re in, you don’t have to settle for it. So I asked God to send me a sign because I seriously started to consider if I was settling. Now, I usually struggle with signs because I’m a very direct person so I was nervous that I could miss it, but God knowing how I am gave it to me straight on that rooftop. This man not knowing anything about me decided to share that of all things with me. I sat down on the rooftop and prayed and cried. I had an overwhelming gratitude for what I had just received.


I walked away from the Golden Temple knowing that God has a plan for me and that India and the challenges that come with it are a part of it. So from the words of P.Diddy in “Let’s Get It”....” I was born ready….I was already on fish and spaghetti...take that”. LOL. I know that was a lot but I had to give yall that…it was only right.

Playa in the Himalaya's : Day One!

So as you all know I went on a mini-vacation to the Himalaya’s! More specifically, I went to Dharamsala, a city in the state of Himachal Pradesh which is comprised of many cities that lay in the foothills of the Himalayan Mountains. Dharamsala is the city which is famously known as the home of the Dalai Lama so I felt that if there was no other city I visited it had to be this one. My journey started with a short flight to Delhi, a 12 hour night bus to Amritsar to visit the Golden Temple, and another 10 hour bus ride to Dharamsala. What I thought would be an intense spiritual or adventure vacation turned out to be a relaxing vacation of reflection, although day one of this journey had me thinking it would be my last days.



Day One:


So even before leaving Hyderabad I got into an argument with two auto drivers. One because he told me he would take me to the airport and then midway wanted to change the price so I got out, and the second because he took me to the airport using a meter but then wanted to charge me a price different than the meter once we arrived. Both of these experiences left me thinking that I made the right decision to get out of Hyderabad, even if I was going alone. I will be honest and say that I had mixed feelings about traveling alone. At first I was so down for it, and then after entertaining the idea of going with someone I felt a small comfort so then when the plan went back to me going solo I was somewhat nervous about traveling so far without a friend or a weapon! My flight went smoothly, finding the train station went smoothly, so I knew it was too good to be true.


Upon arriving to New Delhi railway all of a sudden there were throngs of people. All running! I didn’t get it because everyone was running to nothing. I made my way through the crowd and was told that my train to Amritsar would be leaving from platform one, I go to platform one after walking 8 minutes to find out the train to Amritsar is leaving from platform two. I go to platform two and learn that there is no train going to Amritsar. At this point I’m confused….so is there no train from this platform or from this station? The attendant assures me that there is no train from this station. Somewhat blown, but still optimistic I go back to the tourist information office to make sure I’m receiving the correct information, especially since this was the office that directed me to platform one. I sit there for twenty minutes waiting for someone to help me even though no one is doing anything only for them to confirm that there are no trains to Amritsar leaving until morning. The first thing I think of is that maybe I’m supposed to miss Amritsar and go straight to Dharamsala, so I ask about a train there but got the same result. There was no way I was staying in Delhi for the night! The city made me feel too uncomfortable and on guard. I’m informed that I can take a bus and still stay on my schedule to arrive to Amritsar in the morning. This seemed to be the way to go, so I brave up and walk towards the metro. At this point it’s about 7 or 8 at night and here I am not only the only foreigner in this metro station but literally the only woman within sight. I push it out but only grow more uneasy once I get off and realize I don’t know where to go. I ask a police officer for help and he starts to lead me towards a dark alley. I feel bad to admit but even though he was a police officer I still felt like he could be tricking me, this was Delhi, and everyone I’ve ever asked about the city told me that everyone there is out to get you. He leaves me at the end of the alley where there is light and tells me that it’s ok for me to go down some steps.


This is when I’m so mad at myself for trying to be brave and do this alone. I did not want to go down those steps. I couldn’t see that there was anything down the stairs but I said a quick prayer and went for it…what else could I do. So after going down the stairs that felt never ending I had to squeeze through a passage which opened up to a small parking lot with buses. I was grateful to see the buses but nervous about what I saw. Again, nothing but men and buses that looked like they should have been out of service. I try to explain to a man where I’m going and ask for his help about which bus to get on. We go back and forth about a bus leaving at that time for Jaldahar which is close to Amritsar and waiting another hour for a bus that may go straight to Amritsar. I felt like I had no choice but to get on this bus to Jaldahar but I will admit that I was so damn scared. I felt like I was straying from the plan and that I was helpless because I didn’t know where I was or how to get where I was going.


All of a sudden a man speaking English comes up to me and explains that getting on the bus to Jaldahar was the best for me to do. He ensures me that he’s going to Amritsar as well and will show me. So I listen to him and as the bus is pulling off I run to jump on. I sit in the middle of the bus and the English speaking man sits next to me. Again, I’m scared as shit because he has a bandanna on his face and I just don’t know what to think because again I’m the only foreigner and woman on the bus. He sits next to me (only making me more uncomfortable) and starts asking me questions and talking to me. I answer all his questions with short made up answers, and then I realize that he’s asking me to come to his house. “What?” I ask because I’m confused. “Yes, you can come to my home and meet my family, my wife and kids, daughters” he says. “No thank you” I say in the nicest tone possible. “Why not? You don’t ‘want to meet my family, it is my wife and daughters”. So I ask him “You have daughters, what are their names?” He pauses and starts to stumble…SUS! “ Deb…” and I can’t remember what he said his other daughter’s name was, I think I forgot because that’s when I realized I was sitting next to a man that was trying to get me off the bus with him and do God knows what. I also realized that I definitely couldn’t fall asleep because who knows what could happen as soon as I closed my eyes. So there I am at 9:00pm on a bus filled with men, with the English speaking man next to me still talking to me about how it’s ok and I should come with him, everyone else on the bus staring at me, no weapon, and feeling like anything could happen to me. All I could do was think to myself “Martice, WTF are you going to do?!!!”

WILDIN OUT/ F**CK YOU !!!!

Everyone is wildin out! For my readers that may not understand my lingo, “Wildin out” means having a moment where you are crazy, crunk, or simply outside of your normal character. And when I say everyone I mean everyone! From roommates to rickshaw drivers.


I was talking to one of my roommates after one of her “wildin out” moments and we both agreed that here in India everything is accelerated and because of this everything about you including and most importantly your emotions are heightened. It is for this reason that if one of my roommates has a fit about the dishes or who drank their milk I don’t get crunk, because I realize how even the smallest things here can bring out the worst in you. Now for the worst in me…lately I’ve found myself more aggressive than usual. Some of you may find that hard to believe but for all those that truly know me I really am a sweet, loving, person. So let me share my “wildin out” moment.

It all started with a simple bus ride to the mall. I was excited because I was treating myself to KFC which had me in such a good mood. All I could think about was the crunchy goodness that I was about to indulge in. As I'm having my crunchy good chicken thoughts in my head the bus comes to a stop and I’m about to get off. At the very same moment almost 5 Indian women literally jumped on me trying to get on the bus. WHAT THE HELL?! Immediately all crunchy good chicken thoughts left my mind and I immediately kicked into my West Philly mode and pushed them off of me saying” WHAT THE HELL! WAIT FOR THE BUS TO STOP! (Now I understand that here in Hyderabad the bus doesn’t always come to a stop and sometimes you have to hop on to catch the bus but still this was overboard) They look at me and laugh…probably thinking in their heads the African (yes because black Americans do not exist) has gone mad. So of course I’m not done because I’m still not off the bus and once I get off I see that my roommate is still caught in between the madness! This is when I say “do you think it’s funny, get the hell off of her”. I wanted to add “when I slap you it won’t be funny” but I thought that was taking it too far, even throughout all this I didn’t want to be the angry black woman. Lol. So we walk away and have our crunchy goodness.

Now my next story is when I really started “wildin out”. So my friend Malika and I go to the mall (yes to have more KFC) and were enjoying our night until it begins to rain and we have to get home. It’s already known that autos outside the mall will always overcharge but considering the rain we’re thinking we may give in. So we go for it and run into the rain to flag down an auto, and when one stops we begin bargaining until a traffic police officer and an Indian couple come over and attempt to get inside the auto. Immediately this is what runs through both me and Malika’s mind….WHAT THE HELL! I was too livid and confused to speak so Malika says to the officer “are you giving away our auto?!” he looks at us says something in Hindi/ Telegu and gives us a smirk…at this point we told the couple to get out. I guess for repayment the officer makes the auto move on and not service us. So now were in the rain…just standing in the rain. I had it. “What the hell is wrong with you, do you think you can’t just treat people like that you asshole!” It came out of nowhere, I found myself cursing him out with my own language of Hindi and English. I just started making up words!

We walk to the bus stop because we refuse to give in at this point and we kindly get on a nice metro bus. Now the metro bus is more expensive than my normal bus so I was prepared to pay a little extra. Of course it couldn’t be a smooth bus ride. We sit down and everyone stares at us (were used to it now). The collector comes by us and sees two other darker skinned men and tells them to pay for 4 (assuming that since we’re all dark, we must be together right?)

We tell him that’s not the case and he tells us 12 rupees each (shout out in a shady way). Now, we know it shouldn’t be 4 rupees, but 12 for the next stop? Nope…sus! We explain to him that we're getting off at the next stop and it shouldn’t be 12 rupees, he looks at us and just responds by saying “12 rupees”. So we tell him we’ll get off because after all we’d been through we refused to be cheated! As were getting off the driver asks “Madame what is wrong?” I tell him that we were getting off at the next stop and it’s not 12 rupees. He responds by saying “yes Madame its 7 rupees”. This seems to make sense so I step back up towards a seat and tell the collector what the driver has said. (At this point, Malika is over it and not moving). This is when it gets tricky. The collector says no and yells to the driver. Next thing I know the driver says “8rupees Madame”. WHAT! DID YOU JUST TRY TO PLAY US?!

All I could think was that they needed to get on one accord. At least if you’re going to cheat me let the driver know and agree on the tourist rate. TRASH! Of course we stopped the bus and got off. Everyone is looking at us like were crazy and talking to one another about us, and the collector is saying we don’t know what we’re talking about. Ooop….Sir. We both tore into him. “We know what we’re talking about, you tried to cheat us and we caught you” yells Malika. “You think we never take the bus because were Americans, and don’t know the rates? “. I became heated and irritated that we were the crazy ones after they tried to take advantage of us. Next thing you know both Malika and I are following the bus yelling “F**K You!” with our middle fingers waving in the air because we knew they would understand that. This is when I really “wild out” and picked up a sandal on the ground and threw it at the bus.

For some reason at the same time Malika and I burst out laughing. It was such a classic “frustrated with Hyderabad” moment. We laughed and walked the whole way home in the rain, cussing out anyone who looked at us twice.



Just another day in my hood. Lol.