D. It

Sir,

 

I gave Mhustak a call last night, he's coming at 10:00 to take me to D.

 

D. is an interesting little place that I knew nothing about until planning for this trip.  I looked at the highlights section of guidebooks for things I could see near the park areas and saw the listing for D.

 

Like G., it was owned by the Portuguese until the mid 20th century -- they had essentially stolen (and then fortified) it from the northern-most Arab powers that hit this part of the world.  When In. wrenched the island back, by force, it came under the auspices of the In. national government; not the state of Gu. to which it is attached.  That means there is much freer trade here, and booze, and a mix of Xian, H. and Islam.

 

And, since it was Portuguese, it also means there'll be great beaches.

 

Mhustak has a friend in tow, Okhtesh.  A thin, wirey Muslim of H. extraction.  He speaks a little English -- not as much as Mhustak.  It's not clear to me if he's just along for the ride or Mhustak is afraid of getting shaken down by touts.  Whichever the case he's welcome and we hit it off right away.  In fact he thinks I'm kind of hilarious.  He sometimes asks me things just to see how I'll react.

 

Before we head over, we have a little matter of settling the bill and I don't have enough rupees.  Park prices were higher than I was expecting and there's no way to change money in town.

 

My bill is RS3400.  Very very reasonable to pay $10 for a couple of meals -- especially considering that a tout guided us there.  I say, "Listen, I don't have enough rupees.  The exchange rate is 42.5-to-1.  Let's call $100, RS4000 and you give me RS600 in change."  That's the conversation, at least -- except it takes about an hour to tell.

 

No, that's not acceptable.  They'll take me to town.

 

Fine.  We go to town and I get motioned to go back behind the retail shops. 

 

I've dealt with the underground in many countries in many times in my life.  I know how these things work.  I know what you do, and do not do.  They'll try to psychologically muscle me a bit, the answer, always is to stand your ground and if anything act kind of bored.

 

"No.  We meet in the open."  I point across the street.  "Right there."

 

"No, sir," my go-between says.

 

"Yes," and I start reading.  He leaves the car and comes back in about 15 minutes. 

 

"Come over here."  It's the spot I pointed to.

 

I look at Mhustak and pull him close.  I point with two fingers at his eyes and then mine.  "You watch me.  Nothing bad happens.  You watch."  He totally gets it.  Okhtesh thinks I'm both cool and tough.

 

I go across the street, with my book.  I sit down and then see the drink wallah across the way, and much to the exasperation of my go-between, walk over and look at the sodas.

 

Well, well, well.  Bottled Mountain Dew.  Short necks.  I buy a cold-ish one for the bargain price of three cents and go back.

 

I read.  Probably an hour passes.  I'll know when the money guy shows up.  He'll be well-dressed and act like he's the smartest guy in the world.

 

I'm in no hurry. 

 

He shows up and I ask for RS4000.  The thing you have to look out for here is people will try to pass you either counterfeits, or more commonly, bills that are no longer acceptable currency (torn or written on).  There's one bad RS500 note in the batch, but that doesn't bother me -- I'll just pass it directly to my go-between, he can't refuse money I've just been given.

 

I give a hundred dollar bill and people are fascinated by it.

 

"That's Benjamin Franklin."

 

The money guy says, "I know."

 

I say, "No you don't.  You have no idea who he is.  You think he was President.  He wasn't.  You know what his highest governmental position was?"

 

He's stupefied.  I continue.  "Of course you don't, because you're either a smart know-it-all-type or you don't speak English that well or both.  He was US Ambassador to France.  Oh, and he invented bi-focals."

 

Mhustak, Allah bless him, has made his way across the road.  He thinks something's wrong. 

 

"Everything is okay, Mhustak.  You need one of these for strength," and I buy both he and Okhtesh a Dew short neck.  He loves it.  Okhtesh is laughing so hard he's crying. 

 

We head out and the drive over is flat and smooth.  Mhustak doing his super-great driving as always.  I'd love to have him drive me everywhere in the world.

 

We get a ton of stares from the passersby.  Not because of whitey, but because there's a black, young guy, driving a sweet ride.  It's clearly unheard of.

 

I'm loving it.

 

But there's something bothering me.  For the last few days, I haven't understood a word of what's going on.  When the guys at the place would talk to each other, and the driver and the guide, and Mhustak and Oktesh right here, I'm not "getting it."  H. is a language, that if I let it just flow over me, I can understand a little -- I certainly know what's being talked about.  With something like Danish, if I fight it, I can sort of understand as well. 

 

But I'm getting nothing here,and I've been getting nothing here.  Why is that.

 

"Hey Mhustak.  What language are you speaking?"

 

"Gujararti."

 

OF COURSE.  No wonder.

 

I've got my sights set on a place called The Radhika Beach Resort.  It's swanky by In. standards.  who knows if they'll have rooms.

 

Mhustak knows the place and once on the island takes a secret backway.  I get shown a way-too-over-the-top VIP room that's $60 a night and then look at a deluxe that's running about $40.  It's very clean, has tiled floors, a small patio, a small flat screen TV, a small refrigerator, and a shower4 curtain.  Such luxury. 

 

I take it.

 

And I've been pushing so hard for so long -- literally going as fast as I can go -- that I swear to God, I ask, "What would Special K do, right now?"

 

And I did the obvious thing: I watched TV.  I spent the rest of the day watching H. news, H. videos, and the end of Alive. 

 

I had curry prawns for dinner with super yummy nan bread.  I had two bottles of Coke so cold that they iced when I opened them.

 

And then I went to sleep.

 

And for the first time since I've been here, I slept through the night without waking,

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