The train was moving quickly, not too quickly, however fast enough that you regretted the land and people you were missing as it strained south towards it's destination.  I think we were running frightened-ly from the European parties, beach combing, cat tranquilizer, spiritual predators that we had found by accident searching for Russel who claiming he was Krishna and in search of his long lost daughter - which was actually true.  Nonetheless, it didn't keep him from avoiding his own style adventure, come in as a peace-lover and leave the whole place a mess, in turmoil, turned upside down with a heavy wake.  In fact when we asked the literally god-forsaken hippies if they knew him, it only seemed to alienate us more than we had already personally built a fortress of confusion, frustration and distrust/ or better said, distaste for the sand we had set foot on.  At least the motorbike ride out to the old banyan tree and Hindu stronghold was a peaceful ride warranting a stop by the boatyard and meeting the man who could climb the banyan without his hands, who spoke only his native tongue, but smiled in a way as to communicate enough camaraderie as to express you weren't a bother. 

So, relieved and moving - almost synonymous with this trip in hindsight.  Actually at the time we knew it as well.  There we were sitting across from each other in leather blue benches, the window slid open - I facing forward so the wind was hitting me across the face and dueling with my sensual take of the green green jungle just out of reac.  We passed many people living under highways and train tracks, with houses made of sticks and mud - painted bright colors, with a small fire ring outside.  Children playing with small sticks and in clothing tarnished the color of mud.  We watched agricultural plots pass - what felt endlessly -rice to feed us.  And then the jungle again.  I wondered about how much more we could eat from the jungle.  But no one else seemed too concerned.  I thought of the red and blue mattresses on the ground made of coir as we passed the coconut trees and the barefoot women carrying baskets of fruit  The train was rather empty and the sun was on the set.

After an assault of the senses and a good long passing of the jungle, we began to feel like we were reaching a really remote area - a place hidden away - such a large place and still so populated - a very modern world will make you worry and then you hit a stride like that and you feel like maybe you should do something about it.  Without a doubt, it wasn't telepathic.  You'd have felt it too - we both knew it was time to jump ship - so we set about to grab our things and prepare for the next stop - whenever that was - at that speed there was no jumping.

As the train slowed, there was actually a very large and in a way not compelling - in the sense that we were trying to escape - set of temples.  One that felt very old, stacks of floors atop floors built of ornate stone carving - that if you weren't ignorant and blasted by the story of the evil poachers you might believe was ivory.  The other temple to an American eye would look the likes of Disney, Korean, or Vietnamese - but actually were the new Hindu temples - a statue of a 40 foot tall brightly colored Shiva atop a hill.

We carried our bags into town and of course got many eyes.  We were offered pan and betel nut and some red stuff the locals smoke.  We were ready to move and not looking for friends at the moment so we declined.  We took rooms at a hotel intended for Hindu pilgrimage and took a long walk north along the coast, delighted at the sight of women swimming in their Sari's in the indian ocean.

We followed a path through a small Muslim neighborhood of row houses connected, with many thirteen year old wives rushing about along the still setting sun and streets.

A path led into the jungle and I of course could not resist the hope to meander West to catch the sunset over the Indian Ocean.  As we crossed next to an old marine house - there on display was a whale skeleton gleaming among the gorgeous beach miraculously left there for everyone's dismay and pleasure.  Standing next to an animal's bones four times the size of you and know you are one of many is one of the most wonderful feelings left.  You revel in it.

4 young boys were there riding their bike - they told us "Big Fish" and continued with us along the beach.  I was scanning an area, so we could just bed down for the night against the jungle hidden beach.  

After a while and seemingly all of a sudden - just before sunset the boys took off running, which was a relief.  With them biking down the sand in something of a hurry, we were now at peace.  We spread out  faced west toward the sounds of the surf rolling in, the jungle to our backs and the setting sun onto the water.

We threw off our sarongs and traveling shoes and swam as American's do - in our swimsuits- running screaming and ecstatic at our first taste of the warm Indian Ocean - delighting in the seclusion and secret beach.  This is a repeated quest and only those of you who have found such a place hidden from the rest of the world can share in the pure emotion of the salt water, the surf, the jungle and the natural clean ruggedness.

As the night took the sun, no bait was needed as we both were still very excited and high on the change of plans and the excitement of when everyone is game to fly with the wind.  

We walked south along the water until we reached the river that we had crossed to the there.  Unfortunately, we learned what those boys had left in a hurry for - the river had risen - we should of known as we watched the tide roll in.  Well i didn't care I was happy to sleep under the moon.  My friend was already yelling "help, help, can you help us?"  

I was on the floor laughing, who are you yelling to in the middle of the dark?  But all my laughing was futile, she was seriously scared.

I recommended swimming to no avail, which was good, because I had my recorder that I didn't want to sacrifice.  I was contemplating a raft.  A candle light approached from a distance and made it's way down to the water.  By the time it reached the water - there were two candles, a man, a woman and a third person.  They were walking into the river.  The woman stayed at the bank as the candles floated in the air above their heads, they came across took our hands and while I was not afraid - how do you resist the invitation and such a gesture - we crossed the river, flooded up to our chest and shoulders and then across - sand on our feet and drenched in happiness and mystified.  We knew we made the right decision before we could properly say thank you to those mysterious and beautiful souls were gone - except deep in our hearts and memories forever moved.

We wandered the rest of the night with what felt like the water gods protecting us from any harm and only leading us to more miraculous adventures.

We ended up at an upper class midnight children's talent show in an outdoor proscenium - build of wood and weathered by monsoon with an overhang where 50 chairs were set for adoring parents.  We slipped in during the Hindi pop techno blaring and sat back to watch some of the most foreign dancing I had ever seen - obscure jerking motions to off beat measures.  We were quickly escorted up front where we laid on the ground with some of the parents watching the children make fun of western fashion shows traipsing down a catwalk dressed in burlap sacks.  All was memory.