jgohil_blog

Since ‘Day 2′ felt two weeks long, we decided to get a little R&R for Day 3. I had hoped to sleep in but for some reason I can’t seem to sleep past 6 a.m. So to kick off Day 3 I got up before the sun and headed to the beach. There I sat on the wall that divides our hotel from the sand and sea and started writing this post. I was there for about 2 hours to watch the sun come up and the beach starting to fill. During that time I snapped off a few pictures of myself by setting the timer on my camera. The hotel workers - some of whom I believe are up all night - were watching as I repeatedly set the camera, ran in front of it and waited for it to go off. As soon as it did, I jumped back up to see if the exposure was decent and did it all over again, for a total of about 5 times. All in all I think the shots turned out pretty good.

I’m realizing now that I really need to keep each of these posts as brief as possible if I hope to catch up. I am already so far behind in my writing but in fairness I have to do stuff before I can write about it - and the doing is quite exhausting. Not to mention, pretty much everything here is interesting to me in one way or another. Some of it, I’ll just have to save for when I get home. So, in the interest of time, I’ll finally cut to the chase about Day 3.

Justin joined me on the beach wall a couple of hours after I got down there and we had breakfast. I really wanted to do a bit of shopping so we decided to get a private car/driver to take us around for the day. I didn’t want to spend 8 hours shopping so I got the driver for only half the day. By the time we finished the post-breakfast lounging and the post ‘post-breakfast-lounging’ lounging, it was already afternoon. We commissioned the driver for 4-8 p.m. which would give us just enough time to get out and get what we need in preparation for another night of pre-wedding partying.

Our first stop in our shopping excursion found us in an extremely busy market place called ‘Santa Cruz’. I’m still not sure why it shares a name with a place in CA, but that’s what it was. There we went to a store called ‘Supreme’ that had a variety of dress shirts as well as traditional Indian clothing. This worked out well as those were really the two main things on my shopping list for the day. I was asked to be in a part of the ceremony on the night of the actual wedding, so I needed a nice Indian suit - which I have never owned. One of the older men in the shop was extremely friendly and helped me pick out all of what I wanted. I can truly say, I have never had a more satisfying shopping experience. These people really rolled out the red carpet for us. Not only did they offer us tea and coffee - to which we both respectfully accepted tea - but the salesman proceeded to pull out over thirty dress shirts in a variety of styles and colors as I indicated what I liked or disliked. I explained to him that I was really looking for dress shirts that I could wear un-tucked in a semi-formal fashion, but that most shirts I find in the States are just too long. ‘No problem sir…’ he tells me as he explains how they can tailor any of the shirts I choose to fit exactly how I’d like them to. Brilliant. By the time I left that store I had purchased a full silk Indian suit and five custom tailored dress shirts, all to be delivered to my hotel within 24 hours. Justin bought one Kurta (a traditional Indian dress shirt) for himself and one for his friend Dan. All in all, I spent under $200 (American) for everything. If you include the outstanding service I think it’s a bargain at twice the price.

Once we wrapped up our shopping, our driver - who had been patiently waiting in a corner of the market - whisked us back to the hotel where we started getting ready for the Cocktail party that was to take place at the J.W. Marriott, a hotel just down the beach from ours. This was the nicest hotel in the area and it wore all five of its stars shining brightly from top to bottom. From the exquisite architecture to the intricate marble floors, this hotel was as grand as I’ve ever seen.

Housed inside was an exclusive nightclub that had a line of “hip” indians waiting for admission. Whether it was because we were obviously Westerners or that they somehow knew to expect us, we were able to bypass the line entirely and go right in. Once insde we made our way to some sort of convention ballroom where the cocktail party was being held. This event was even more posh than the Mehndi party from the previous night. Inside there was a little bar and the rest of it opened into a courtyard where the majority of people were. Normally I’d thrive in this type of party environment, but I was so incredibly tired that I couldn’t think of anything else but sleep. I’m assuming it was the jet lag that finally caught up with me. We made a few rounds and mingled for about 10 minutes before leaving.

Back at our hotel we went to the bar and grabbed two cold Kingfishers to-go that we enjoyed on the beach. Apparently the local police clear out all the vagrants from the beach after sundown so it was pretty much ours. After about 15 minutes out there, we saw a small silhouette approaching us in the dark. Unsure whether to worry or not - and being a bit drunk - we decided to shout out to to it. As it turns out it was a small man who was combing the beach for any aluminum or glass that he could recycle in order to make a little money. This worked out particularly well as Justin and I had finished our beers and had no place to throw them. Although the beach was really dirty and pretty much everyone else just littered right along there, we had decided not to contribute to the mess. Strangely enough, this little man - whose name I can’t remember… or pronounce even if I could - spoke the same language that I knew a little of. For the next 20 minutes or so, Justin and I had a conversation with our new friend about life, fate and the universe, all through my broken translations. Surprisingly I understood almost everything he was saying and even though I probably sounded like a tard, I think he understood what I was saying. By the time it was done, we had given him our empty bottles, a little bit of cash and our blessings, all in exchange for a photo. It was quite an experience. The chance encounter and the Indian beer was just enough to sap what little energy I had left and with that I crashed, ending Day 3.

P.S. I didn’t have the time to upload the full size images of the thumbnails in this post but as soon as I do, I’ll have them linked to my album on Flickr.