Day 293: Dahivad-Julwania

After sleeping off Bravin took me back to the his hotel at the highway. We had tea and a photo session before it was time to say our goodbyes.
Today the sun was strong and after taking off around eleven, I did not get very far before the heat stopped me. I hid in a truck stop during a couple of hours around midday. and followed the motto of moving as little as possible. God it was freaking hot. The crowd at the truck stop was a cool one, quite curious but leaving me my space as they gathered round one smoked some ganja through his conical clee pipe (chilum) others were eating, some timid questions were asked in broken english or simple marathi where I could guess which of the three usual questions it was and of course there were a lot of open stares. From the looks on some faces I guess that they hadn't seen many white, dark-blond, blue-gray-eyed people so far. But I felt very comfortable and the older men were looking out for my wellbeing and sometimes teamed the youngers childish and uncontained curiosity (exploring with all senses if possible, especially by touching).
At three I was back on the road and it was still freaking hot. the wind grew stronger and without any cloud in the sky I was glad I the came sometimes at an angle from behind so it would cool me a bit down. Every seven kilometres I drank one liter and the skin remained dry!
After the small climb it went downhill again, the road turned for the perfect tailwind and yeah baby! Wolter positively flew on this highway giving its curves the smoothest touch with his tenderly humming tires (see yesterdays post for ref.)
Todays trip ended in a village, just big enough to have a three room guesthouse with exactly one guest, me... When I roamed the dusty dark streets here to find some food I had a glimpse at its late eavening busyness. Every male individual around here seems to be chewing on some tabacco or betel nut or whatever, also guys that looked to me like teenagers. Next to the tabacco-store there was a dirty guy crouching over his bag and preparing a chillum with utmost care. Just beside him sat a group of very intimidating, elegantly and impeccably white-dressed men on two opposite benches. They looked like the owned this entire place. Among these gentleman sat a boy who earlier gave me directions to the guesthouse. The ambiance is quite hard to describe, but its very different from everything. Life seems to have its own pace and its own mechanics here. I felt very out of place or rather exposed (not that anywhere else I haven't been the foreigner on first sight) but here it seems to me that I am so fucking alien, being from swizzi-what?... where?... but most importantly why?
This is planet india and I am glad to have come so far.