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We looked inside some of the posts by andreasoos-blog and here's what we found interesting.
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Notes Per Post
386
Likes Per Post
106
Reblog Per Post
270
Reply Per Post
0
Time Between Posts
9 months
Number of Posts By Type
Text
5
Video
1
Photo
11
Last Seen Tumblr Blogs
Fun Fact
Tumblr was acquired by Yahoo for $1.1B in 2013.
Text
Watch a man at the lights throw a large piece of rubbish off to the side of the road and then lock eyes with me. I am in an uber.
Something runs across the path in front of me, narrowly missing my toes, too dark to be the light striped squirrels. A very well fed rat.
Everything is growing ontop of everything, if youāre not growing your dying, dying is a part of growing
The first loud beep of the morning, still a shock to my ears but less so everyday
Magic and squalor around every corner, the ratio is dependant on me.
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Akash follows map directions down narrow laneways decorated with toiling faces and ubiquitous piles of rubbish, the beaten up white Suzuki Swift Dzire seems increasingly out of place the deeper we go, sharing these paths with aching bodies atop aching bicycles that resist the harsh environment as best they can.
The laneway empties out onto a rocky dirt path with a sparse smattering of trees on either side, locals work away at various tasks in amongst the trees and along the path, some of the trees are eucalypts to my surprise though I am mostly focused on my rising sense of vigilance as we go deeper.
This āsense of vigilanceā seems largely driven by a lack of information, an inability to read the imagery in front of me with any nuance, no language, no understanding of demographic with the void of context fear rushes in.
Thatās the submission from the frontal lobes anyhow, though one picks up more subtle pre-language based instincts thanks to the lizard brain.
These must all be weighed otherwise one would never leave their house, let alone have had any of their favourite memories and adventures.
So we continue down this rocky path, way too rocky for the Suzuki Swift, stout enough but with minimal clearance, though Akash continues on as I make conciliatory remarks about how good of a driver he is and wow isnāt this road rocky. Amazed we didnāt bottom out and end up seesawing on a jagged chunk of angry road,
we come to a stop at the end of the map directions, we have arrived at a clearing surrounded by trees a rundown building and a range of locals scattered about through the trees, I half heartedly gesture to see if there was a space a bit further on, hoping for a sign describing the forest walk I spied online though I was rapidly deciding against the whole expedition. Perhaps sensing my fear at the prospect of disembarking here, Akash states frustratedly that āitās not safe hereā I agreed in body language but asked why, āthereās no tourists here, just localsā he replied, our language difference prevented me enquiring any further but my own intuition had seen enough and we agreed to go to a local Mughal monument instead which felt relatively familiar in comparison.
It does feel like an a front at times,
the sheer amount of privilege that someone can leave their comfortable life and existence for such quaint ideas as broadening their horizons and learning about themselves and fun. Driven in a rideshare air conditioned chariot through someone elseās hardship. I dress modestly but even clean clothes and my relative good health feel like riches I am showing off given the context.
But who really knows, itās all a narrative I have stumbled upon by my limited unverifiable scraps of information an entirely different story could be unfolding for people around me which doesnāt feature me at all. Or better yet does feature me like the couple of drivers who have called their friends to speak to me on FaceTime, cheerily practicing their English and flashing their smiles as we drive.
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So I sit on the rooftop with my part frozen bottled water at the only time of day itās sane to do so and listen to the distant beeps and songs from the open doors and windows of the white concrete cubes.
Thereās something beautiful about hot hot cities at night, beaten into submission so mercilessly during the day, each face of each white concrete box shouting at you with its reflected sun rays and bouncin beepin horns, all directed squarely between your eyes, deal with it mate, you reckon you can create a nice little cozy comfort shell for yourself? No no me n the boys at the concrete convention have decided thatās not how it goes, so you better yell right back and beam back twice as hard, otherwise we wonāt respect you and we will grind you into the dirt.
But if you catch those same white concrete utilitarians at night they sound a lil more like;
Heyy man Iām sorry about what I said earlier, it was toxic bullshit, Iām bullshit, it was just such a long day, sit back with me and feel the breeze would ya?, thereās a beer for you in the fridge and also bottled water if youāre not drinking. I actually love you man, weāre in this together! letās get beaten together!
But Enjoy it, because you will be met between the eyes by the same boy from the concrete convention tomorrow.
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Melbourne to Bangkok, little sleep, the fella sitting next to me suffered a medical emergency, āIf there are any doctors aboard could they please report to staff immediatlyā, from my vantage point next to the emergency, doctor, passenger and three sympathetic staff members conclude that the guys finger has gone numb likely because he slept on it funny.
We land in Delhi, everything runs smoothly.
I am calm but tired and in need of a torture rack like device to be stretched upon.
I train my Mind on the to-do list mantra ābuy Sim card get to accommodationā, ābuy SIM card get to accommodation, ābuy SIM card get to accommodationā
I saunter towards the Airtel phone booth, slowly enough to feel as though Iām not engaging any bodily effort and gravity is just tumbling my feet out in front of each other but just fast enough to discreetly beat a huddle of five saffron clad monks to the counter. over time I witness other SIM seeking customers succumb to a range a pitfalls, which I smuggly believe I have dodged with the help of my nights spent skimming Reddit forums regarding Indian airport SIM card procurement, despite this and the begrudging help of my allocated teenaged, white shirted telecommunications professional I was told with a wry smile that the server was down and so none of us would be able to get Sim cards today.
the story was corroborated by the error message on the attendants phone screen and on the faces of the other qualified purveyors of Primo SIM card Solutions I decided my only avenue left for defiance and control was to receive this news in an utterly unattached, nongrasping, thirstless manner though it took some level of conscious effort my tone of voice displayed no discernible shift in pitch or intensity as I asked where else I might find the life-saving powers of these miniature Babylonian tablets I was pointed to a security guard who would I was told with some surety provide me with a coupon code to access the free airport Wi-Fi, after some explanation of my treacherous travels through the Sim niverse of incompetence I was pointed back to the Airtel SIM card stand by the security guardā¦ I decided this would be a good time to sit down.
From my seat I view the heat on the other side of the exit doors and with it a variety of who I presume to be taxi drivers after tapping meekly on the shoulder of a number of unprotected airport Wi-Fi networks I decide to enter the world, a scan of the area reveals no alternative SIM card providers but a phone booth, I make my way to the Red booth, Iām greeted by a friendly faced red uniform wearing attendant and submit to him that I would like to make a phone call this man provides me with a brief smile and then he yells at the two ātaxi driver/tour operators/ticket middlemen/general hustlers/poor bastards trying to surviveā whoād been speaking at me since I crossed the threshold, this man in Red is my guardian protector bastion of righteousness. I proceed to call my Airbnb host. I push the phone speaker deep inside my ear canal and strain as it touches my brain briefly (note to Self:I will need to squirt some hand sanitiser in there later) the early naughties plastic office phone fuses with my person and yet the voice I hear from the Airbnb host on the other end sounds as though it has travelled through the ages and circumnavigated the Earth twice over through an aging copper network but I realise how ridiculous a notion this is and decide that she in fact must have been shrunken down to the size of an ant and was doing her best to yell into the phone receiver on the other end.
Her advice to me is to find the prepaid taxi booth, this makes sense I think as I realise part of me was hoping for the offer of a lift I head to the prepaid Taxi booth dragging with me a couple of reinvigorated taxi drivers with a prepaid taxi slip in hand I move towards the rank and resign to the offer of the more persistent driver to get me a taxi. He makes a quick call and says it will be here in a minute making it clear that heās not the driver, but a jive talking, English speaking, tourist Shepherd I become aware of my weariness and decide to surrender to the situation and engage in light conversation.
Heeeās alright, Taxi arrives, we both jump in, older driver, we cover a range of topics, Ricky Ponting is mentioned, I keep an eye on our route through a Sim-cardless Google Maps.
We stop mid journey at a closed road. The driver explains how we canāt get through and how the area Iām headed in is a Muslim area and not a good area and how they close the road without any explanations and how he will need to take me to the tourist information Centre where I can wait in air-conditioning until the road reopens.
I detect some prejudice but humm and haarr appropriately and agree to the plan. I have water. I have money and Iām more interested in the view out my window.
I arrive at the eye symbol, the beacon for clueless folk and Iām guided up the stairs of a narrow building, as the exit disappears from view the life preserving security seeking part of me reappears and the photo album labelled this is what tourist info centres should look like is slammed shut and I sit opposite a man at a desk with an old map of India my situation is explained to the man and his expression remains unchanged one I find hard to read but it appears to be āI lost my Will to live years ago, so your presence in front of me is of little meaning. I mean itās not that I donāt want to live. Itās just that I canāt be bothered living.. or not living for that matter, you know what I mean?ā at least thatās what I think his expression was saying.
I mentioned my need for a small slither of data plastic so that I can SiMulate being a human again, he makes a call and the sim guys arrive and fill out the small office, two guys who Iām sure offer many other services, but today, itās SIM cards.
I apologise to the tourist info NPC for taking over his office as he heads downstairs non-plussed.
After much discussion of phone plans and hurried Rupee to AUD currency conversions one of the Team sticks out his hand towards me with a grin and ask if we have a deal I contemplate for a self-respecting length of time and then meet his hands embrace as though weād just made a pact to work tirelessly together on a humble business venture that we will grow from its meager beginnings until we reach success and have furthered our family names and we can retire to a breezy sun kissed beach with soft white linen shirts and delicate cocktails where we will shake hands once more and remember where it all began.
This moment is interrupted when he excitedly but not quite manically giggles and adds that there would be a 200 rupee commission on top of the Blood pact price weād shook on, explaining his ride over et cetera. I decided I need this too much right now to haggle any further and any moral objection subsides at the remembrance that his 200 rupee addition to the price equates to $3.50 AUD.
the SIM insertion, application and registration process takes half an hour and requires many personal details falling just short of sampling my DNA and childhood trauma history but all is forgiven when like rivers of gold that data begins to flow.
I have data and with it options, knowledge and power I am offered chai and the three of us sip together, blood brothers once more .
Jacked on 5G i order an Uber in a gratuitous display of sheer data backed power. I wait on the street, an old fella in classic Taxi blue shirt politely asks if I would like a tuk tuk, I trust this man instantly and sense zero hustle, I explain that I am waiting on a Taxi killing, foreign wealth generating, soleless worker exploiting Uber and offer a poor consolation that I am keen to try a tuk tuk tomorrow when I have no luggage. He accepted this calmly and generously left me with the lasting memory of his face furrowed and kind without the facial gymnastics of polite smiles and embarrassed laughter within 15 minutes I lay in an air-conditioned rooftop granny flat bungalow.
If you too want that airconditioned rooftop granny flat bungalow life then you too need data. Use my AirTel referral code ātopbunglifeā to receive %15 off your next AirTel purchase.
AirTel, we make the sim cards, you try n get em.
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My last post here was 12 years ago. But i reckon itās time for this schlecker to post once more.
This time Iām schlecking through India.
This might be one post or 20. It wonāt be 50.
Follow along if you want some insight into my brain (itās your brain too, shared consciousness and all..) or if youāre just checking im not dead, or if you just miss tumblr.
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Nose bleed section for away games, but footy...oh yes (Taken with instagram)
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