What's the hardest part of cycling in India, you ask?
Having to smile so damn much! I would respond.
Nearly every motorbike driver on the road, upon spotting us nudges in and proceeds to drive alongside staying with us regardless if we speed up slow down or stop completely. Initially they just stare, no hint of a grin, just straight up bug eyed staring. Really, it is not so difficult to break the ice; all you've got to do is crack a smile yourself (showing some teeth seems to help) and maybe toss in an overly enthusiastic wave and a 'hi'. Quickly their stares melt away becoming one of two things; a smile filled with brilliant white teeth, or in the poor areas where they chew beetle nut, a smile filled with black and red rotten snaggle teeth.
Now here is the catch; once you've broken their stares you've set yourself up for a beret of interrogatives. Nearly always the same, usually even in the same order. So if you can't understand what they are asking or they aren't even speaking english it really doesn't matter, you can just proceed with the appropriate answers as you already know what they are going to ask, and if you accidently answer the wrong question that doesn't matter either as it is likely their next question.
Q1: 'Where do you go?' contrary to its implication actually it means, 'where are you from?' to which for brevities sake we now always answer, the USA. Times when we've replied 'Australia' all at once they begin reciting a long list of their favorite cricket players, which is when we are supposed to simultaneously begin chanting our favorite cricket players, in some sort of informal dual. Except that we only know the name of one Aussie cricket player, the captain (or so claims Rachael, I've never heard of him) Ricky Ponting, and so we always loose.
When we answer USA they understand that Americans know nothing about the best game on earth and so skip the dual altogether.
Q2: 'What's your name?' This question and our required counter of asking the same of them is nothing short of comical as neither can ever understand or pronounce the others. Anyway we try and then all laugh.
Q3: 'Where do you go?' Phrased the same as Q1 only this time it actually means what it implies. Simple as the question sounds it still turns into an exercise as we can not for our lives pronounce the names of any Indian towns we are visiting. So we try our best and they start the guessing game until after a handful of tries it is determined the town we are headed for.
Mind you while all of this is taking place we are typically still cruising along at 20km/h dodging any and everything; pot holes, speed humps, goats, dogs, cows, people, busses, trucks, rubbish, spiky branches that give instant flats. And repeatedly the driver of the motorbike is forced to drop back to avoid becoming minced meat by oncoming traffic.
After the standard three questions any number of actions can take place, sometimes the driver simply speeds off, sometimes the questions continue and sometimes he falls silent but continues to drive alongside for as long as 10 minutes, simply watching us, kind of like you'd watch an otter at the zoo, only we are not behind glass, maybe that is why they find us so enthralling.
During the early part of the day, when it's only 90F, as you still feel fresh, all the attention is kind of flattering. But by 1pm when it is 110F and your sun block as reached its road grime saturation point and the area around your eyes is chaffed from wiping the endless stream of gritty sweat it's near impossible to keep up the façade of eternal cheer.
Unquestionably another driver pull up, staring just like all the rest, you want to ignore him or say f-off, but feeling like some sort of representative of America, where it is your job to spread good will to all, after a bit of hesitation you flash another toothy grin and you're back at square one, the game continues!
Love Mantis and the Possum
Having to smile so damn much! I would respond.
Nearly every motorbike driver on the road, upon spotting us nudges in and proceeds to drive alongside staying with us regardless if we speed up slow down or stop completely. Initially they just stare, no hint of a grin, just straight up bug eyed staring. Really, it is not so difficult to break the ice; all you've got to do is crack a smile yourself (showing some teeth seems to help) and maybe toss in an overly enthusiastic wave and a 'hi'. Quickly their stares melt away becoming one of two things; a smile filled with brilliant white teeth, or in the poor areas where they chew beetle nut, a smile filled with black and red rotten snaggle teeth.
Now here is the catch; once you've broken their stares you've set yourself up for a beret of interrogatives. Nearly always the same, usually even in the same order. So if you can't understand what they are asking or they aren't even speaking english it really doesn't matter, you can just proceed with the appropriate answers as you already know what they are going to ask, and if you accidently answer the wrong question that doesn't matter either as it is likely their next question.
Q1: 'Where do you go?' contrary to its implication actually it means, 'where are you from?' to which for brevities sake we now always answer, the USA. Times when we've replied 'Australia' all at once they begin reciting a long list of their favorite cricket players, which is when we are supposed to simultaneously begin chanting our favorite cricket players, in some sort of informal dual. Except that we only know the name of one Aussie cricket player, the captain (or so claims Rachael, I've never heard of him) Ricky Ponting, and so we always loose.
When we answer USA they understand that Americans know nothing about the best game on earth and so skip the dual altogether.
Q2: 'What's your name?' This question and our required counter of asking the same of them is nothing short of comical as neither can ever understand or pronounce the others. Anyway we try and then all laugh.
Q3: 'Where do you go?' Phrased the same as Q1 only this time it actually means what it implies. Simple as the question sounds it still turns into an exercise as we can not for our lives pronounce the names of any Indian towns we are visiting. So we try our best and they start the guessing game until after a handful of tries it is determined the town we are headed for.
Mind you while all of this is taking place we are typically still cruising along at 20km/h dodging any and everything; pot holes, speed humps, goats, dogs, cows, people, busses, trucks, rubbish, spiky branches that give instant flats. And repeatedly the driver of the motorbike is forced to drop back to avoid becoming minced meat by oncoming traffic.
After the standard three questions any number of actions can take place, sometimes the driver simply speeds off, sometimes the questions continue and sometimes he falls silent but continues to drive alongside for as long as 10 minutes, simply watching us, kind of like you'd watch an otter at the zoo, only we are not behind glass, maybe that is why they find us so enthralling.
During the early part of the day, when it's only 90F, as you still feel fresh, all the attention is kind of flattering. But by 1pm when it is 110F and your sun block as reached its road grime saturation point and the area around your eyes is chaffed from wiping the endless stream of gritty sweat it's near impossible to keep up the façade of eternal cheer.
Unquestionably another driver pull up, staring just like all the rest, you want to ignore him or say f-off, but feeling like some sort of representative of America, where it is your job to spread good will to all, after a bit of hesitation you flash another toothy grin and you're back at square one, the game continues!
Love Mantis and the Possum
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