Some Reflections (India Blog 23)

 

Some Reflections (India Blog 23)

10:00 Evening.

After more than twenty years of teaching in Turkish universities in all the three biggest cities, Istanbul, Ankara, and Izmir, plus some years in North Cyprus, I was ready to enjoy some leisure time. I was not going to miss the interminable bureaucracy in Turkish. I would miss the pleasure of teaching. I would miss the students, but it would be nice to be in control of my own time and have some freedom to travel more. Some freedom to pursue photography.

This evening, I basically give it up. First, I went out to that restaurant in the corner, Zurich’s. I wanted a beer. The restaurant part was closed and dark. There was just the one lone guy near the bar. In another part, there were a few Indians. I sat near the bar and had two small Kingfisher beers.

The guy gave me some peanuts. They were small and hard. I could not recognize them as peanuts. I had never had that sort of peanuts. They were not appetizing.

I remembered the beautiful peanuts they served with beer at the old Maharaja’s palace hotel in Bhopal, when I stayed there a few years ago. It was out on a beautiful green. Just like in the old British days of the Raj.

I paid and got out.

I thought that maybe that Kingfisher Restaurant near Hogg Market would have beer. I went in and thought about eating something with the beer. But when I asked for beer, the waiter said: “No beer after 10:00 o’clock.” I didn’t understand why that would be. There was another bar, a sort of discotheque on the corner. But there was loud Indian music. I just couldn’t put up with that.

I realized that I had to hang it up for the day. All the rickshaw wallas want to take one somewhere. They don’t know that I would ask them if I really wanted to go somewhere. I am getting quite discouraged by this Sudder Street area.

There are a couple of places that I still want to go to. I will go somewhere tomorrow.

12 December, Wednesday.

5:25 Morning. I woke up and heard the birds croaking. They sound like crows, but I don’t know.

Generally, I have lost my illusions about Sudder Street. I guess that I had some illusions before coming. I thought that it would be more pleasant.

In the evenings, it is difficult to walk on the side walks. They are blocked in some places and the sides of the road are rough with a sort of gutter, often filled with trash. One has to hobble along, back and forth from the roadway to the side walk. Hobble along, avoiding getting hit by a car or a terrorizing motorcycle rider. So it is not a pleasant thing. There is not a pleasant place to walk.

And the motorcycle horns are so loud and bad-sounding. For sure. People are so rude to each other. Sometimes it seems like a rude culture. I guess that I can understand my old Bengali friends better after being here.

I don’t like people calling to me, either, as I walk down the street. They have nothing to do with me. Trying to make me come to their shop. They put their game on you, whatever it is. After a while, it starts to get on one’s nerves. And then, they force you to be rude with them.

Turkey is far better, in that sense, it seems to me.

I will start by going to St. John’s church this morning. There is a historical grave yard there. After than, maybe to the South Park Street Cemetery. (52 Park Street)

I will get a shower before others get all the hot water.

4:40 Afternoon. Back to the hotel. A hell of a day! Hell of a good day. I will write about it soon, but need a rest right now.

I thought of that young, buxom, healthy and fecund young woman with a gorgeous ass, from Australia. Everything about her is gorgeous. She is not beautiful, she is gorgeous. She is cute and has a beautifully well-build body. It makes me believe that she would make love like wild. Very photogenic.

God! I think I would have had that girl if I had met her when I was young. She actually said “hello” to me on the stairway this morning. I was almost ready to grab her. Don’t tempt me with that delicious, plump, perfect ass. Oh God! Gawd!, as Edward Abbey would say. I am a sexist pig. Sure as hell. Sure as fuck. All men are, but nowadays a lot of them have to hide it. Her ass was simply gorgeous in those tight bluejeans.

With society in USA in the throes of the Thermidorian Period of the 1960s sexual revolution, it is not politically correct to say anything. One must pretend to be something other than a man. The return of the Puritans.

She is so refreshing after a week of these wretched Indian wrecks of women all worn out by degrading marriage and family life. Generally fatted out.

It is not politically correct to appreciate the beauty of a young woman. But fuck it. No need to fool one’s self. It is just hypocrisy.

Sometimes I just have to laugh at how puritanical American Society has become in recent times. The Europeans are laughing their asses off. Sorry, America. But its true.

Today most do not remember the sexual revolution of the 1960s, which I personally missed out on completely. They were also not raised up in an Assembly of God Church in rural north Missouri which was far less liberal than the Taliban in Afghanistan! Or the Salafists in Saudi Arabia. They were ready to burn one in hell for just thinking of a girl. Maybe some of them still are. Anything that was the least bit enjoyable was strictly forbidden. And there was not a whole lot to enjoy in that small pitiful town.

Well, I said enough about that in my autobiography. There are people who would love to burn me at the stake for that!

That was the Assembly of God Church in Princeton, Missouri. They were right up there with the best when it came to religious idiocy. Just as well be honest about it. They should have saved the old church building. It was classical. Somehow when they finally killed the church off, I think the old church building probably went too.

I still love the old Edward Abbey classics like Monkey Wrench Gang. They are not politically correct by contemporary American standards. They hark back to age when people were allowed to have some ideas of their own in America and not be burned at the stake for them by someone prancing around and pretending to be “politically correct.”

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