Day 78:

"Lucille would never understand me because I like too many things and get all confused running from one falling star to another until I drop" (120).

I've been feeling very sad lately. Back in the bad old days I once said "I don't really suffer from depression. See, I'm sad for really good reasons." Over the last few days and weeks I've been chased by some sort of sorrow and I don't know what's fueling it. But it's only been for a week or two. Surely it will pass. Or maybe it's just an effect of reading Kerouac's stuff; "On the Road" is ultimately a very sad, very lonely book.

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I think I'm getting the hang of India. It helps to be dominant and sort of "alpha" when some idiot is making a play for your money. A rickshaw guy asked me for 150 rupees to get me to my hostel last night and I was comfortable in saying something to the effect of "that's fucking insane... I can get across the whole city for that amount. Take fifty or nothing." Cheerfully, I told him he was lying when he told me later that his meter was broken and offered him sixty rupees.

And so on...

See, this is what the tourist to India does. So much financial bullshit. I'm happy that I started this India thing in Varanasi, which is so much more intense than Delhi, and so gave me an early warning of the nonsense in the capital.

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A lot of my hatred of India has recently been transferred to that other most odious nation - Canada. Getting a new passport has proven to be a complicated and costly endeavour. My application requires that I supply FOUR references, and that I have my application stamped by a local notary public, in addition to handing over the usual photographs and wad of cash. You know, Americans don't have such difficult requirements, and they can also get extra pages taped into the passport when the document is all filled up.

Damn it.

Oh, when I was going to the theatre, a taxi driver offered to take me there free if I first agreed to spend ten minutes at a couple of silk shops. So I did, and he really did take me there after pocketing some commission money for getting me in the door. Such a stupid scam, but I guess if you can't beat 'em, you can only join 'em...

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Anyways, India could be good. It could be a real kick. I've lost a lot of my inhibitions about dealing with the unequal social and financial exchange that is a big part of travelling in the third world. Knowing that everyone is trying to rip me off, I no longer have any problems fighting to get the "local price." I could be doing more to benefit the local populace... but spending and spending and spending... but the local populace is so fucking adversarial.

Uhm, so I'm going to stop blogging about cab fare now. Sorry. And about money, also. Sorry.

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I'm sleeping in some dormitory near the local diplomatic enclave. It's a nice little flop used mostly by domestic tourists. The last foreigner came here three days ago, according to the guest register. I'll stick around here for a few days as I fight for my new passport, but there is probably a better place deeper into the city.