Of Organic Farms, Festivals, and Visas

Sorry to be out of touch for so long, we've been making some great stories here and its worth telling them.

We were starved for salads a couple weeks back, so we made it to a new friend's organic farm outside Mysore and saw all the good work they are doing. Freeman went swimming in an Indian river and has not yet developed any infections from it. To the contrary, it was a beautiful day for a dip. Jo climbed a tree to get us coconuts. Mind you, she only got about 4 feet up the tree (Jo is about 5' 8" or 9"). Thus, the farm owner's son came to the rescue and showed us how it was done, by scampering the full 18 feet up the tree and hacking down a few choice coconuts for all of us to enjoy. Fresh coconut water hath no fellow.

We also saw a very effective and simple agricultural waste to fuel generator that really got Freeman's gears going on an stellar business idea. This last sentence is intentionally vague so that my entrepreneurial friends don't capitalize on the idea before I get home. Suffice it to say I spend hours every day researching specifics related to my concept and can't sleep much at night, due to nervous excitement. Oh, and we had an amazing organic salad with the farm owners with greens picked straight from their fields. You would be surprised how difficult it has been to find trustworthy salads along our journey.



BAM! CRACK! KA-BOOM!! Diwali kicked up last weekend as knowledge once again proved victorious over ignorance and we struggled mightily to keep all our fingers firmly connected to our hands for many nights. Forget going to New Hampshire to get baby fireworks, go to India and get the big ones that are highly illegal in America. Last Friday the 16th, we walked into a converted garage-made-arsenal and walked out packing some real firepower. We had some basic sparklers, along with stacks of firecrackers, roman candles, and what can only be described as small grenades sans shrapnel. For some of the highlights check out our faces on facebook, where we posted some of the videos that our host, Papu, made on her new video camera. What was not captured on the video is Freeman repeatedly muttering, "this is soooo illegal." Driveway explosions aside, we were very happy to hear that Obama celebrated Diwali as well. As Papu put it well, "he just won the hearts of a billion people."

For those who have yet to put their lives in the hands of an autorickshaw or taxi driver in India, I may not be able to accurately convey the full scope of the next experience, but I'll try. It starts with the visas. Jo and I need our visas for Thailand, as we'll be uprooting from Mysore around the end of the month to meander around Southern India and then head off by Mid-November. This need for visas points us to the local Thai consulate in Bangalore. (At this point we feel obliged to warn you that there is no Thai embassy or consulate in Bangalore.)

That didn't stop us though. Armed with Internet information, we came to Bangalore anyway, hoping to fine a Thai embassy in Bangalore. The fact it was also the Great Indian October Fest and an excellent opportunity to drink too much beer, factored in a bit too. We arrived by train on Friday with an hour to get passport photos for Free and get to the "embassy" and submit our applications for visas. We meet a friendly taxi driver at the station and by drawing a few frames around our heads we make it clear that we are in the market for passport photos. We negotiate a taxi fare and head off into the afternoon. We get to a photo shop and point to the size photos we need and get Freeman's photo taken. The photos get developed in the wrong size. We haggle to get them developed in the right size. We get them in the right size, with Free's "Middlebury" softball shirt featuring front and center and Free's head taking up about a quarter of the upper frame. Freeman is now on edge about whether these photos will pass muster.

We get back in the taxi and begin to head to the "embassy". We have an address from the Thai Embassy website. Aside from the street name, this is useless. Few streets here use addresses and the one we had was mighty vague. Thus we are reduced to repeating our request for "Visas" for "Thailand" as often as possible. Fortunately our taxi driver is on his game and calls around and asks all the other taxi drivers he can find as we are stopped at intersections about where we might get some passport related services. We make it to the embassy. This is confirmed by the fact we drove past Embassy Point, Embassy Square, and Embassy Somearuther buildings and turned into a guarded complex. Before entering we confirm with all the guards present that we are indeed at the Thailand Embassy where we can get our Thai Tourist Visas. This is confirmed again by repeatedly asking the information desk out front as well. It occurs to us at this point that there are quite a lot of Indians and no one resembling a stereotypical Thai national working at the Thai Embassy. We are not dissuaded by this fact.

We get to the person we were told is handling Thai tourist visas and are told that we need to go to a different desk around the other side of the building (5 minutes are left to submit our application.) We race around to the other desk. We wait in line. We rehearse our sob-story. Upon reaching the desk, we are told, after a thorough examination of our Indian Tourist Visas, "I can't extend your visa, leave by the date marked on the visa." WHAT!!!!?????

Yeah, we were at the office for registering our status as travelers in India. We were not at the Thai Embassy. (We feel like reminding you at this point that there is no Thai Embassy in Bangalore.) We then begin asking all the police officers we can find on the street that is supposed to have the embassy on it where we can find Thailand's embassy. We are first directed to Embassy Square. There aren't any embassies in Embassy Square. There are corporate offices there. Next we are pointed to Embassy Somearuther building, nope, no embassies there either, just more some bio-tech firms. Last we are directed to Embassy Point. There is more security there, this is promising. We get a big nod from a few different security officers and are waved up to the 1st floor. We arrive at the corporate offices of "Embassy Group". They may sell soap or vaccines, we didn't get the full story. That said, the receptionist is beyond nice and fluent in English. We explain the depth of our confusion and she points us back to the Bangalore travelers registration office across the street where we started, but said that there was a different section that we missed.

We go to that section, they point us to the door with the desk where it was made quite clear to us that we were expected to leave India before our Indian visas expire. We refrain from asking to be told that again and walk to the information desk again. Free explains that we undoubtedly know we are in the wrong place, but need to get to the Thai embassy. The informationist points to desk where we get told to go to the desk that will tell us we have to leave before or Indian visas expire. Jo is sweaty, Freeman is sweatier, the time to submit our visas is now 40 minutes overdue, Freeman refrains from screaming. The informationist walks away. A bystander in line at the information desk asks what we're trying to do. Freeman explains. The bystander/angel points out that there is no Thai Embassy in Bangalore. (Don't say we didn't tell you, at least you were warned.) The bystander/angel does however say that there IS a "Thai Visa Processing Center" down the street we have traversed repeatedly in the last hour. Freeman almost kisses this man, but instead shakes his hand with the vigor of a man hanging by a thread and we proceed down the road.

We arrive at the "Visa Processing Center". It doesn't matter how many buildings there are on the street with prominent names containing the term "Embassy". This office is not located in one of those buildings. We are pointed to the 1st floor. We rehearse our sob story. We flow into the room with all the grace of seemingly injured drunks and begin to gasp out our need to submit-our-forms-even-though-we're-late-sorry-sorry-sorry. "The office is closed." (Internally, we both scream, "WHAT!!!!!??????") Audibly we both stammer, "huh?"

The guard walks us back out of the office door to observe a sign together. The sign reads that the office is closed all day in observance of the Thai king's birthday. Free and Jo begin laughing hysterically, photograph the sign repeatedly and vow to return on Monday when the office opens again...

Then we had one of the best meals of our lives and polished it off with a bottle of Argentinian Malbec. The next day was capped by our win in 10 cup beer pong against an opposing Indian couple who couldn't have been nicer (they didn't have a chance, didn't they know we went to college to learn this sport). After we won we were interviewed by a local tabloid to expound on the finer points of the game and its origins bother in America and India. After a few beers, the interview was nothing but first-class, though we were misquoted (http://www.mid-day.com/news/2009/oct/261009-City-Pubs-10-Pong-drinking-culture-Banglore.htm). Freeman won a solo chugging contest against 4 other guys. Jo nearly won a cricket bowling competition with the wickets made of stacks of beer cans. She was sooo close!

We have submitted our visa applications finally. The photos were accepted. We're in Bangalore for a couple more days. It's been great to catch up with StartingBloc fellows and chill out.

Off to another great meal!