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Bangalore, Karnataka, India – Woke up and started watching MTV, sounds like a theme by this point. We had absolutely nothing to do and Bangalore being a government city, had nothing to offer us. We finally got lunch at 2 o’clock. Then headed to the state house to see if our extension appeals have been approved. Of course, they had not even been typed up yet, so we sat in the park until I could go and find out about them.
In the office, they handed me an envelope and without looking at whom it was addressed to, I opened it in the hallway, but it was all written in Tamil. I went back into the office to ask them how long the extension was for and they were appalled that I had opened government correspondence addressed to the police commissioner. They were seriously upset, but just sealed the envelope shut and told me to go to the police station.
I grabbed Rich and we headed over to get the visas extended. I had to meet with the assistant commissioner of police intelligence and tell him why I needed the visas extended. Medical reasons, but Rich was sitting outside on the sidewalk. Then it was to the deputy commissioner to tell him directly why I needed the special extension. I was sent to another man who gave me all other forms to fill out in quadruplicate, no carbon paper here, plus Rich had to fill out his own forms. I went out to get Rich. Then the two of us returned 20 minutes later and with cramped hands handed the officer our passports, four forms, and four photos. They said to take a seat.
 We would have our passports back in 10 minutes. Amazing, how we always managed to get the official papers we need, cutting through all the red tape I will never know, but I will never complain again. I got my passport back along with a large piece of paper with my picture stapled to it. The paper read “Karnataka State police residential permit under paragraph 7 of the foreigners, order 1984, Mr. B. P. Robinson not departing from India before 15/07/1993” July 15th, residential permit. Do not know how we manage to swing either one of those, but yee ha!
We went to dinner from the police station, then bought a “Knockout” beer, which was so strong in alcohol, not taste. It did just that, knocked me out at 8 p.m.
Bangalore, Karnataka, India – Out to a local’s joint for breakfast. Then, we went out to the Lalbagh Botanical Gardens to sit and read during the afternoon. I sat on a bench aways away from Rich, but situated so I could see him at his bench. After beating off like the fourth kid selling bags of popcorn, one of those light bulbs went off inside my head. When we were in Goa, Rich told one of the vendors that I wanted to buy some of whatever he was selling. The vendor then walked over to me and kept trying to sell me his stuff. I told him I did not want any and he said “that guy on the beach said you did, so buy some.”
It is a known fact that you cannot get rid of these guys when they have been given a referral. Remembering Goa, I called one of the kids over and told him Rich was really hungry and had been looking for someone selling food. The kid went over to Rich and I could see Rich shaking his head no. The kid then started making these motions pointing at me, then pointing to Rich, telling him to buy some. I can tell this “use the vendor to harass your friend”. Game might be one that would be played for the duration of our trip.
It was getting warm and we were getting hungry, so we headed back into town for a thali. Only this time, it was served on a large banana leaf, no fuss, no muss, and no dishes to wash. When we walked into the restaurant, I sat down in front of my banana leaf and the Indian waiter removed the banana leaf and put a plate in front of me. I then took the banana leaf from across the table, put my plate across the table, placed the banana leaf in front of me, and then he stole a banana leaf again. It took three tries of this game for me to get the banana leaf I wanted. It was back to the room to watch MTV, to dinner, then back for more MTV.
Bangalore, Karnataka, India – We got up and Rich headed to the hospital. He is on a tour of the hospitals of the third world while I took a rickshaw out to the commissioner of police’s headquarters to try and get our visas extended because they would expire before we could get to Nepal. I had to talk to three different people before being told they could not extend the visas because the embassy had given us the maximum period allowed.
I was told to visit the home secretary at the Vidhana Soudha, the Karnataka State legislature building to see if I could get a special extension. We needed this extension and I was determined to get it. So, I went to the legislature and spoke to a government worker about the extensions, telling him that Rich was dying while I waived his passport in one of the medical admittance certificates from the Mysore Hospital. Dude gave me the forms and said he needed two copies of this, four copies of that, etc.
I went across a street, copied all the stuff on the xerox, and began to fill out the paperwork. Seeing how it would take 48 hours to process and they needed Rich’s signature and he was not with me, I had to use his passport as my guide and forged his signature on the forms for the home secretary. It was back to the state house to drop off our appeals. Then, I got the chance to wander around a little bit. The legislature is a huge ornate building on par with California’s Capital Building, but the interior decorator must have been smoking a lot of crack when he picked the colors to be used inside the building. All of the ceiling facades and if you are really lucky, some of the wall facades are painted in one of five colors, bright lime green, neon yellow, neon pink, bright purple, or neon blue. These were all the colors that were compared to some of the rides at Disneyland. Once I had had my look around, it was back to the room for more MTV/BBC to wait for Rich.
Doc said Rich was okay now. So we went shopping in the nicer part of the city for the rest of the day. We did manage to grab a pitcher of beer at a “English” style pub followed by a screening of When Harry Met Sally on the big screen. From there, it was back to the hotel for more MTV, neither of us had had a TV in our room for so long. We were ODing on MTV.
Bangalore, Karnataka, India – Bangalore is the total yuppie capital of India with everyone here just like they were in the 80s at home. Everyone is dressed really nice and this city just exudes new money and wealth. The first thing we did was upgrade from our cockroach-infested closet (that three of us had to sleep in the bed together because none of us wanted to be on the floor with the bags) to a nicer hotel with a bathroom, ceiling fanned, and color TV with MTV Asia and BBC Asia. We were so stoked when we found a room with a TV. We were splurging at 6 dollars a night for that luxury.
We went walking around the flower market. You have never seen this many flowers in your life. From there was the racetrack to bet on some horses. It sounded like a good idea at that time. We placed our bets, got our snacks, and headed out to the track. We sat in the stands, but were suddenly confused because there were not any horses in sight and the race was due to start any minute. We could hear the announcer listing of the horses over the loudspeaker, but where the hell were they. The man next to us explained that the race was up north in Hyderabad and the announcer from the track up there was piped into us. None of our horses won the race, so we got bored and went back to the hotel to get Kate’s stuff.
Kate who had been our traveling companion for two weeks was leaving to go north. She had a plane to London she needed to catch. We said our good byes and Rich took her to the train station while I sat mesmerized by MTV Asia. Now, the room did not actually come with MTV Asia when we checked in. So, I called downstairs and I asked the hotel clerk if it was possible for him to get MTV Asia on the satellite. So what they were required to do was actually reposition the satellite dish to pick up MTV Asia and they wiped off one of the Hindi speaking languages off of the entire hotel closed circuit system.
 Mysore to Bangalore, Karnataka, India – We got on our express bus to Bangalore, the capital city of Karnataka, but as usual, the “express” part was optional.
Today’s choice of interruption was a strike by the school bus drivers whose routes happen to be on the same road we were traveling on. The school kids who had no transport home were blocking the highway and making the empty trucks and buses take them to the outlying villages. Our bus driver just slowly drove through the crowd of children. There were literally hundreds of them stopping all the traffic and we headed on our way. It was not until we were going through a one-lane road through a village that our driver finally had to acquest to the children’s calls for a ride home. There was a row of schoolgirls all holding hands blocking the only route through town. The driver stopped and all the girls filed into the isle of the bus. The driver took off like hell on wheels. For now, we had to take these kids to a village out in the middle of nowhere.
Our bus was barreling along the highway when I spotted two rows of schoolboys all holding hands spread across the road and our driver did not seem to have any intention of stopping or slowing down for that matter. It was a game of chicken. Our bus going 65 miles an hour and two rows of 10 to 12 year old schoolboys all dressed in their white button-down shirts. The boys did not seem to face that the bus was not slowing down. In fact, our driver gave it a little gas to make our bus look more menacing as it picked up speed. The kids still did not move, so when we were about 15 feet away, the driver pushed in the clutch and rave the engine so loud effectively scaring the kids out of the way. Kate screamed when she saw how close we were to hitting the kids while I just grabbed on to the seat in front of me expecting to feel a soft bump under the front wheels of the bus.
We finally arrived in Bangalore, found a room near the flower market, and then went out to a really nice Chinese dinner at a restaurant that played the first western music we had heard in a long time. After dinner, we were walking past the move theaters when we spotted that new American horror film, Poltergeist making its first run appearance in India. Poltergeist, was not that released like 10 years ago in 1983? Does not matter – we went in.
No tea in bed this morning, for I had food poisoning from dinner the night before. The toilet was my friend for the first half of the day because I didn’t want to venture too far without having a toilet nearby. The tailor was just down the road so I paid him a visit to pick up all the stuff I’d had made. For Rs 265 (US$9.80) I’d had four pairs of shorts made, two sets of boxers and a super nice button down shirt personally tailored for me. Bonus plan buy – I should have had more shirts made while I was at it. From the tailors I went and called the US Consulate and was put directly through to the Consul – Hugh Williams – who gave me a medical reference for an American doctor in Bangalore, the capital city of Karnataka. It was only about two hours away by bus.
It was about two in the afternoon and I was feeling better so I left Kate and went out to the hospital to get Rich out; we were going to Bangalore to a real doctor. I went and told Rich about the reference and he told me he hadn’t been given any medication that day because I’d arrived to late to administer any. At that we left his room and headed downstairs to the main reception to check him out. The nurses saw him out of his room and kept screaming for him to get back in his bed, but Rich just waved them off and told them he was leaving. The doctors wouldn’t give us Rich’s medical records so Rich refused to sign any forms, meaning the hospital would get no money from the insurance company. I went back upstairs and lurked around the nurses station in the corridor trying to figure out which set of charts I’d have to knick so we could get Rich out of the hospital. Couldn’t find anything so we left the hospital sans records and climbed into a rickshaw waiting outside. Just as the rickshaw was about to pull away the hospital security guards came running out and stopped the driver from going anywhere. We went back towards the hospital and one of the doctors met us in the parking lot saying “Take the records.” We went back inside and had a look at the records, but a sonogram Rich had given them when he checked in wasn’t in the file. Rich screamed at them some more and ended up telling one of his nurses to go upstairs and get his sonogram. “I know you can understand me, now go get the rest of my charts.” From the length of time he’d spent with them Rich had figured out how much English the nurses actually understood. The doctors were going “What sonogram?” and Rich said he wouldn’t sign any release forms. “Oh, that sonogram, just a minute.” The sonogram appeared, Rich signed the forms, got his chart and we were outta there. it took us over two and a half hours of screaming, talking, and walking from nurse to nurse to get him out of that place but when you say “I’m not paying” it tends to get their attention. Especially if you’re in one of the expensive air conditioned rooms. Rich’s total hospital bill for 3 and a half days was like US$50 – not even the deductible on the insurance policy, but at least he was out.
 Mysore, India – Woke up and Kate hit the bell so we could have our tea. We headed out and over to the tailors, as usual, then went to the outdoor market to pick up the supplies we’d need for this afternoon’s activities at the hospital. We headed to the hospital, gave Rich his lunch and showed him what we’d bought at the market. In addition to selling fruits and vegetables the vendors also sell water based paints in every color you can imagine. There are bowls full of the powered paints all over the market, so Kate and I picked up a bunch along with some potatoes and coconuts. We’d also brought with us a bedsheet stolen from the hotel and some string to tie it up onto the lone light fixture. After re-arranging the furniture in Rich’s hospital room I tied the sheet to the neon tube on the wall while Kate began mixing paint in each half of the coconuts I’d cracked open. Rich was sitting on the bed using his Swiss army knife to carve the potatoes into those potato ink stamps you used to make in pre-school. We were going to paint a mural on the stolen bedsheet to give Rich’s room some decor, and Rich something to do because he was so bored from sitting in there.
 Kate was busy mixing paint in any container she could find – specimen dish, water jug, you name it, it had paint in it. We had all the paints mixed and were about to start when Nancy (nurse #2) came in and saw what we were doing. She had this really perturbed look on her face until Kate thrust one of the potato stamps into her hand and told her to dip it into the paint. At that, Rich’s nurse was happily imprinting purple stars on our virgin bedsheet canvas. The nurse left and Kate and I used the stamps (and our hands) and went at it. When word got out about what the sahibs were doing in Rich’s room there was a never ending flow of nurses and doctors popping their heads in the room to see what was going on. One old hag head nurse came in with an entourage of like eight people and said in broken English, “Not on the walls. Not on the walls.” We nodded our heads yes, oblivious to the fact that the paint was seeping through the sheet onto the wall behind; we’d find out about that later.
We finished our mural, getting a fair amount of paint on the floor, then took turns taking pictures standing next to our masterpiece.
Rich was really depressed being locked up in a hospital room with a translucent frosted window, an air conditioner and a fluorescent tube to look at. He had the looks and demeanor of a P.O.W. refugee, and the doctors weren’t giving him the best medical care on top of it. I was going to call our Consulate in Madras to get a medical reference to someone who could give Rich adequate medical care.
Woke up, rang the bell, and had our usual tea and newspaper in bed. Kate and I dropped off more material at the tailors, then headed out to the hospital to see what was going on. When we arrived it was outside visiting hours, but because we’re white we were just let through the security gate and up into Rich’s air conditioned room. no word on exactly what Rich’s condition was – they were doing a few tests and still giving him flush therapy for his possible kidney stone. Kate and I sat with Rich in his drab, undecorated room all afternoon. Rich was given an air conditioned room that consisted of a bed pushed against the wall, one neon tube on the opposite wall, an air conditioner that sat in the window, and two white translucent windows that I had to tie shut with a piece of a stolen bedsheet so the mosquitoes couldn’t get in.
The doctor came in and refused to show us Rich’s medical chart; he said to just ask him and he’d tell us what we wanted to know. Rather a pompous attitude for us, so we asked him question after question until he broke down and took Kate (who was a British medical student) to go look at Rich’s chart. Left the hospital in the afternoon and dropped off some more fabric at the tailors, then lounged around our room for a while. Met Kate at the room then went to the people who sell fabric and bought a whole bunch more. Back to the tailor, yet again to drop off the newest bits of fabric then finally made it to the hospital to give Rich dinner. He reported nothing had been done since we’d left earlier that afternoon. I went and had a meeting with the hospital administrator to get the billing sorted out and bitch that nothing had been done. After my whinge session with the administrator I headed back to our room to wait for the insurance company to call from London again.
 Republic Day, Mysore, India – I guess the tea man can only speak, not read English because after hearing our summons to the room he ignored the note and still knocked to find out what we wanted. Oh well, tea and newspapers in bed still worked – even if we had to get up to unlock the door. Rich wasn’t feeling too well so Kate and I got up early and told Rich we’d be back to get him for lunch. The two of us headed to the base of Chamundi Hill and started to climb the 1,000 odd steps to the temple at the top. About half way up the hill we found Nandi – the stone statue of the Sacred Bull, which was big, surrounded by Indians and very boring. We hiked the rest of the way to the top and up[on reaching the summit we found the Chamundi hill Temple – one of the few where non-Hindus are allowed inside. We sat there and watched the people and priests give offerings of coconuts and flowers to the gods. After watching this for a while we sat outside eating our snack of fresh green coconuts when one of the ubiquitous holy cows came over and began accosting me for some food. The only was to get rid of it was to lead it away with a piece of coconut husk for it to lick clean. Kate and I headed back down into Mysore and went straight to the street corner where the locals sell their materials. Plus at Rs 16 (US$.64) a meter we couldn’t pass up buying a ton of it. You see, not ten meters from the door to our hotel are no less than fifteen tailors – all for hire. Boy did Kate and I have plans for them. We went to the tailors and got prices for the stuff we wanted made. Here’s the list: shorts – Rs 30, Pants – Rs 30, Boxers – 15, button down shirt – 30. We dropped off our material to be transferred into various chemises, then headed to the sandalwood stores to see if we wanted to buy anything to send home. Sandalwood is incredibly expensive, so instead of that I broke down and bought a large smiling Buddha made of rosewood for Rs 150 (US$5). After our shopping spree we headed back to the hotel to get Rich for lunch. We’d done all that before noon!
We went to lunch, but Rich wasn’t feeling well at all so we decided to take him back to the hospital to see the doctor again. Rich and I left Kate and headed over to the private hospital, but even though it was private it’s still the third world. It took us a while to get the receptionist’s attention and even then she told us to just sit down. We’d waited a while and then Rich laid out across the length of the bench in the waiting room because he really wasn’t feeling well. We were getting impatient with the attitude of the staff, and when the security guard told me to get Rich to sit up I screamed at him. “He’s sick! He needs to see a doctor!” I screamed this loudly across the waiting room in a very snide tone, but we’d learned that to get certain thing done in India that tone is needed. Rich was finally admitted to the hospital and put in his own room. They were going to check him out for kidney problems. Now even though Rich was in a “hospital” (quotes needed) I suppose the building was technically a hospital, but not what you’d expect a hospital to offer in way of services. This was a total do-it-yourself (D.I.Y.) hospital. Rich was issued a prescription for his IV fluids, drugs, etc., but the nurses aren’t required to get you any of the stuff. I had to go downstairs to the hospital pharmacy (which doubles as a closet) any buy al the stuff – needles, tubes and drugs, in order for the doctors to begin his course of treatment. The DIY clause also includes all food, drinks, etc., Third world hospitals! So frustrating sometimes – they’d try the patience of a Saint! Rich was due to have some X-rays done, so when they took him down for them I left to go get him some food and tell Kate what was going on.
Kate and I returned to his room a few hours later to be told a story about him having to give the nurses a stool sample to test for Giardia. I was going to go to the loo, but was strongly advised not to go in there because of a mishap with the sample. The sample proper was in a specimen dish – it was getting it into the test vial the nurses had given Rich that seemed to be the problem. The vial was a small glass bottle with an opening not more than twice the diameter of the pen I’m using to write this sentence with. Rich was also hooked up to an IV so he was only able to use one hand, and the nurses had failed to give him any sort of instrument to scoop the sample into the jar. When one is in a situation like that you may as well make an attempt to help the nurses our and get some of the specimen into the jar. Rich thought the same thing and at that he scooped the jar across the specimen much the way you’d scoop a cup into a bucket of water thinking he’d get at least some of it into the jar. I never saw it, but I guess there was more on the outside of the test vial than actually made it inside. Rich just left it for the nurses thinking he shouldn’t have to deal with this, his quote to me being something to the effect of, “I hope the nurses are wearing rubber gloves when they come and collect that sample.”
Rich buzzed the nurses (they always appeared in twos) and when they arrived, sans rubber gloves, he told them the stool sample was ready in the bathroom. I was poised in my chair near the bathroom door so I could get a good view of the comedy about to begin. Nurse number one (who I named Sid) entered the bathroom and after surveying the carnage Rich had left behind – one second in there on her own – she immediately popped her head out the door and began yapping away in Hindi, very quickly, at nurse #2 (named Nancy). Sid had this semi-troubled look on her face and then Nancy went into the bathroom to help her out. Out in the room I could hear the two of them yapping away at each other about what they were going to do with this specimen jar all covered in specimen. A few minutes later the two nurses came out of the bathroom, both with glazed looks in their eyes. Nancy was carrying the specimen dish, but I never saw the test vial make a separate exit. I can only imagine it was still with the specimen – exactly where Rich had left it.
When they came out of the bathroom they found Rich, Kate and I doubled over with laughter, each beginning to tear up at the eye. How did they expect Rich to get the sample in the jar with an IV in his arm? As I said, sometimes you have to do dramatic things to get attention and get things done. Again, this was one of those times.
I sat with Rich until 8:00 p.m. that evening, then I headed out for I needed to send a fax to the insurance company in London to sort out who was going to pay the hospital bill. Back to the room and the insurance company rang me from London to sort out the details and get a better idea of what was going on out here. As far as we knew Rich was going to be in the hospital until the doctors figured out what was wrong with him. Who knows how long that could take.
Mysore, Karnataka, India – Tea in bed once again. Then after breakfast, we headed to change money at the bank, which was supposed to be a major project, but it turned out to be painless. It was on the way to the bank that I found for the first time, the official India Indian red dots for sale. So, I splurged and spent the two cents and bought a pack of them. Since, we had time to kill waiting at the bank and the central telegraph office was next door, I wrote my parents a fax telling them we are still alive.
From the bank, we headed across a street to take a wander through the Maharaja’s Palace. His palace is huge and you are only allowed entry once you have checked in your shoes and your camera at the respective checking desks. The palace is amazing on par with France’s Louis XXIV’s Versailles. It is so opulent and being in a country where you see the horrors of poverty on a daily basis makes the palace seem that much more grand.
The walls, doors, and ceiling are all made of the most intricately carved mahogany, but you would get the odd door, which was silver plated with various scenes of the Ramayana on it. Some of the ceilings in the larger rooms were made entirely of stained glass giving the room a warm glow under the sun shown through. A few of the rooms had ceilings that made you think you were in cathedral and virtually all of the rooms were painted in brilliantly bright Disneyland type colors. Even with these brightly colored paints, it was not tacky like you to expect. It was still classy. The floors vary between regular marble slabs and marble inlaid with various designs, plus walking through this place barefooted made you feel more relaxed and free. It was definitely amazing sight and we were told that we were only allowed into a small number of the rooms. I wonder what the rest of rooms contain.
After our palace tour, Rich and Kate went to go to the doctor, so I lounged around our room having tea brought to me for the duration of the day. We were definitely living the colonial life, tea and newspapers in the morning, our washing done on a daily basis, and that evening before going to bed, Kate, Rich, and I figured out that there was a button over the bed that would summon our tea boy when pressed. Now, we would not even have to move out of the bed and get tea. We could ring for the servant.
In preparation for our use of the bell the next morning, we taped a note to the door saying we would like three teas. So the tea could be ordered without our having to get out of the bed to open the door and tell the man what we wanted.
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