15 Life Lessons I Learnt On My 7 Month India Motorcycle Trip

I have often been asked as to what I have learnt from my 7 month solo motorcycle ride across India. To be honest, I have always fiercely resisted the urge to learn anything in life. However the only life lesson I have learnt is that no matter how dumb you are, one should always strive to look wise. 

So here I present to you 15 pearls of wisdom I gained riding my motorcycle all across the country. Now, some of them might not feel all that wise. After all, these are my thoughts and my thoughts tend to go wrong a lot of times. Like the time, I thought that pretty woman living next door was totally into me. Oh, I digress. You guys just read on.

But trust me on the points 11 to 15. I can absolutely vouch for them

1. A Journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step

7 months and 30,000 Kms on a motorcycle. The most difficult part is the start. Once you start something, you are smart enough to figure things out on the go. It is not that intimidating as it looks.

However, I don't mind if that impression persists :)

2. Ask for help. Not all battles have to be fought alone

Unexpected rains, huge traffic block welcomed me as I was about to cross a mountain pass for the first time in my life in a motorcycle. Slight fear creeps in but I fight it off like a hero. Start the engine and said to myself “There is no fucking way in hell I am doing it today” and start heading back. But thanks to these two riders (Tejasva & Pankaj) I happened to meet and tag along, I was able to cross the Zojila pass on that day itself and I got over my fear of mountain passes quicker.

I had set out alone on this trip hoping it will make me more independent and stronger but on the way I realized that with a little help you get there (being more independent and stronger) faster.

3. You are never alone. Someone somewhere is always looking out for you

These four tourists on their way to Leh - Justin, Suraj, Arjun and Nishant (left to right) from Allahabad happened to be at the spot in Sarchu, Ladakh where I had a pretty bad accident. They did everything from making sure I was alright, stopping a truck for me to carry my motorcycle to the next town (Manali) to fix it, negotiated on the price with the truck driver and loading my motorcycle and luggage on the truck.

The accident did dampen my spirits and the thought of abandoning the trip did cross my mind. But thanks to them, I somewhere became confident that in case something goes wrong – someone or the other will be there to help me out.

4. Trust people. Not everyone out there wants to cheat you

Raju – the truck driver. We had agreed on Rs 2000 to truck the motorcycle from Sarchu to Manali. On the way he suggested that I take my motorcycle till Mandi – further 100 Kms away as he was anyway going till there – for the same agreed price. He paid for my dinner, we slept the night in the truck and the next morning paid for the morning snack before making sure that he unloaded my luggage and the motorcycle in the service centre in Mandi.

When I paid him the Rs 2000 as we had agreed upon, he gave back Rs 400 saying that the accident had damaged my motorbike pretty bad and I would incur some expenses fixing it. You can read that story in detail here : Truck drivers - Guardians on the road

5. It is great to help people in need. Sometimes just do it to make their day pleasant

Crossing into Assam from Bhutan on the Samprud Jonkar border I had 7000 in Bhutanese currency which I needed to convert to Indian Rupees. The 4 Bhutanese policemen on the border stopped every Indian vehicle getting into Bhutan to fill petrol from the petrol pump in the Bhutanese side (petrol is cheaper in Bhutan) and in 2 hours converted the entire 7000 Ngultrum into Indian Rupees. They never asked me any chai pani ka kharcha (commission for the help) for this deed.

These guys helped me just like that. Otherwise I would have had to shell out 10% commission in the Indian side of the border which I frankly didn’t mind. But this thing they did - it just made my day.

6. Believe in the goodness of people. You just might be pleasantly surprised

I reached Moreh on the Manipur – Burma border with Rs 120 in my pocket and came to know that there were no ATM’s in Moreh. It was already evening. It was a little awkward for me initially but since I had no other option, I went to the Tamil Sangam and asked them for a place to be put up for the night for free. These guys from the Tamil Sangam gave me a place to sleep, bought me dinner and breakfast the next day.

Oh by the way one of the guys also gave me Rs 1000 as a gift to keep just in case of an emergency :)
You can read this story in more detail here : A Kind World

7. Be grateful. Never belittle somebody's kindness by offering them money - no matter how poor or rich they are

Stuck in a small village in Manipur where the security situation ensured that security forces don’t allow me to travel at night. I asked this woman – Veronica to allow me to sleep for a night in her shop. She says “You are most welcome” and got me a mat and a pillow. The next morning I tried to insist on paying her for the place which she sternly refused.

She was poor. I could see that. I thought I was helping her. But inadvertently I was belittling her kindness. Every time I think of it, I am ashamed of myself.
You can read the story in more detail here: Veronica

8. The best way to show your gratitude to people is by taking out time to spend with them. With some alcohol preferably

My bike broke down and I stopped these truck drivers going in a convoy to help me truck the bike to the next town where I could get it fixed. Had one of the most memorable times of my trip with them. Bathing under a waterfall before having lunch prepared by them and then 3 of them waited with me till the motorcycle got fixed. They never asked any money and now I knew better and did not try to belittle their kindness by offering money.

I just bought some whisky and we drank on the side of the road where they had parked their trucks for the night and that night I slept under the truck before bidding them my goodbyes the next morning :)
You can read that story in detail here : Manipur Truck Drivers

9. You don't always have to keep your guard up. Go with the flow sometimes. Specially if there is alcohol involved

The roads are bad and it is dark and there are no signs of the highway. Two men on a motorcycle (Cmon & Rilla) – I ask them for directions to the highway. They are going in that direction and I follow them for some 10 to 15 odd Kms or maybe more. And the next thing I know is that after helping me find a lodge in Panisagar on the highway for the night – the three of us are having dinner together. Somewhere in between a round of beer and two rounds of whisky were also consumed. 

Oh all paid by them just in case you were wondering

10. Believe in serendipity. It happens in real life too

Cruising along on a deserted highway in a God forsaken place, listening to songs on your ipod and someone in a SUV overtakes you and waves you to stop. Lot of things going through your head at that time and none of them are pretty. Then you take a look at the man waving at you. He kind of looks familiar and suddenly the irritation turns into unparalleled joy because this guy is one of your closest friends. And you thought this only happens in movies :)

Inaka Chishi – a very close friend whom I hadn’t met for 18 months and I just bump into him unexpectedly, somewhere 60 odd Kms before Cuttack, in the middle of nowhere.

Now to the part I can absolutely vouch for

11. A man's crotch always needs some attention

Well, India is a hot country and it gets sweaty all over. Especially with the riding gear and all. Keep it handy. Gives a lot of relief :)

12. Maut Aur Tatti Kabhi Bhi Aa Sakti Hai (Death and Dysentery can strike anytime)

Not everything about a motorcycle trip is romantic. Shit happens. The only thing you can do is to be prepared. I had to take a dump on the side of the road here. I am surely not mentioning which place this is

13. AurTatti Bar Bar Aa Sakti Hai (And Dysentery can strike more than once)

Yes here also. Like I said not everything about a motorcycle ride is romantic. Just in case you are wondering, I had to take a dump on the side of the road 3 times. Always keep tissues and a bottle of water handy :)

14. Women will not go crazy over you just because you are riding a motorcycle

Well, if you look like Tom Cruise then maybe

15. But..... CHILDREN LOVE YOU

Children waving or smiling at you makes you forget any awkwardness you may feel while riding in unknown territories

They just have a way of making you feel welcome and you no longer feel out of place.

About Me:

A 7 month motorcycle ride that took me to every state in India, parts of Nepal and Bhutan and one town in Burma. These blog entries are inspired by this trip. Stories about people I met, stories about places I saw. Things that intrigued me, things that amused me. They say traveling changes you, they say traveling inspires you and they say a lot of other stuff. I don't know. I think a gun on the head is a better way to change people. I just hope that my travel stories entertain you

Right now I am in the process of writing a book based on this trip and figuring out the difference between a writer's block and procrastination.

You can find more information by clicking on my

Facebook Page: The Clueless Rider 

Instagram Account: thecluelessrider

Wagah Border - Jingoistic For Some, Patriotic For Others But Entertainment For All

The Wagah Border - the beating retreat ceremony is a spectacle to witness. Amritsar was never a part of my plan in this trip but when I reached Chandigarh, I just made a slight detour to experience this. A lot of it seems unnecessary jingoism to me but I can't deny the fact that it is entertaining.

Amritsar town to Wagah border is a good 30 Km ride. I was cruising along on my motorcycle and it started raining. Raining is a mild term I use, it felt more like a heavy artillery shelling. Drenched to my balls, I reach the border. The rain had stopped now but the wet clothes I am donning do not bring any cheer. The optimist in me tries to find a silver lining in this cloud. The rain may at least ensure lesser rush for the ceremony and finding a good spot to watch the ceremony should be easier. The thought brings back the smile on my face.

Well, not for long because this was the sight at the entrance

The optimist in me again tries to find a silver lining in this cloud. With such crowds, the sloganeering war from both sides would be a fun spectacle. I clear my throat. However soft spoken I am, today I have to shout. I have to shout for my country. I along with my countrymen have to drown out the voices coming from the other side. After some 10 minutes of jostling through this heavy crowd which could put peak hour Mumbai local train crowd to shame, I finally reach the seating area

The crowd was maddening. I don't think I'll be getting any seats on this side of the gate.

I gaze over to the other side and it disappoints me 

The rows are all empty on that side. It seems that the Pakistanis do not love their country as much. Although I don't blame them for that. Nothing worthwhile about that country. But these many empty seats. For a moment I wished I was on the other side just to cheer them up.

On the other hand, the Indian side feels like a carnival. Shouts of 'Hindustan Zindabad', 'Bharat Mata Ki Jai' drown out any voices if at there were any from the other side. To give you a glimpse

There is some music and dancing involved

There is some shouting involved. Sometimes one doesn't even know what is being said

Finally the start of the ceremony. It is heartening to see women lead the ceremony on the Indian side

If you have reached till this point you must definitely watch this video by East India Comedy where stand up comedian Atul Khatri explains the Wagah Border spectacle. It couldn't have been described better :)

About Me:

A 7 month motorcycle ride that took me to every state in India, parts of Nepal and Bhutan and one town in Burma. These blog entries are inspired by this trip. Stories about people I met, stories about places I saw. Things that intrigued me, things that amused me. They say traveling changes you, they say traveling inspires you and they say a lot of other stuff. I don't know. I think a gun on the head is a better way to change people. I just hope that my travel stories entertain you

Right now I am in the process of writing a book based on this trip and figuring out the difference between a writer's block and procrastination.

You can find more information on my Facebook page and Instagram account

The Soldier In Kashmir

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I have just crossed Ramban - the northernmost I have ever been in this country and I am about to enter the famed Jawahar tunnel. Just about at the entrance a soldier stops me. He asks me for an id and then lets me go. Inside the tunnel, I am filled with excitement. On the other side of this 2.5 Km tunnel is the Kashmir valley. I exit the tunnel and pretty soon a yellow Border Roads Organization board tells you in bold letters "FIRST VIEW OF KASHMIR VALLEY. HAVE A BREAK. VIEW POINT"

I take a break and have a look. The first view of the Kashmir valley justifies the hype surrounding Kashmir and something tells you it is going to get better and better. Whatever they had said about Kashmir was pretty much true. Having soaked in the first view of the Kashmir valley, I decide it is time to move forward. I have a final look at the board that says "TITANIC VIEW POINT". It beats me as to why anyone would name a view point "TITANIC". But there is a dark answer in my head. Well what they said about the Kashmir valley was pretty much true and maybe like the Titanic - the Kashmir valley is one ship that is bound to sink.

Image Source

I ride down the road and soon the sight of a gun wielding soldier guarding the highway greets you. Every 500 m or so there happens to be soldier guarding the highway. A man holding a gun is appealing only when you completely trust him. I trust him completely. My father was in the Army and I knew if anything goes wrong for me, I can count on the Army to help me out. Moreover I am a tourist on a motorcycle. Motorcycles have a very romantic appeal to them which cuts across barriers of religion, caste, nationalities. Sometimes it even cuts across the barrier of looks. Even though the soldier over there doesn't know me, I believe he trusts me too. But when dark thoughts have entered your mind, it is difficult to get rid of them. I want to stop and click a picture but I don't. I want to stop and smoke a cigarette but I don't. What if the soldier calls me out and my response fails to amuse him and he pulls the trigger ? What if he is suspicious of me and pulls the trigger ? What if the soldier is just momentarily scared and pulls the trigger ? But then how can a soldier be scared. Soldiers are heroes and aren't heroes supposed to be fearless ? Still I decide that the smoking could wait. Smoking is not a habit I am proud of. It kills but I tend to take my chances with it because it kills you over time. Bullets are different. From what I have heard they tend to kill you immediately. I would rather not take a chance.

Touring on a motorcycle is a lot of things. Perhaps the most important of it is the expression of your freedom. Often in our everyday lives we feel shackled. On the road, in lands unknown to you, riding a motorcycle gets you rid of these shackles one by one. The sight of the gun however unsettled me. The ones holding the gun were my own people. I have been raised in Army cantonments. I can pass gun wielding soldiers without batting an eyelid. It's those dark thoughts that have entered my mind. I am not able to get rid of them. I carry on. I am not a local Kashmiri who has to live his whole life under the shadow of the gun. I am just a tourist and in a few days I'll be out of the valley.

Dusk is about to set in and Srinagar is still some 80 odd Kms to go. I need to hurry a bit. Why the hell are cricket bats hanging on both sides of the road ? Kashmir willow, it suddenly dawns on me. The shops on both sides of the road are selling cricket bats. There are posters of cricket stars outside those shops. I can spot one Sachin Tendulkar, one M S Dhoni. The rest are all Saeed Anwar, Inzam ul haq, Shahid Afridi. Pakistani cricketers on the wall. It does not shock me. If there was an Imran Nazir or an Ijaz Ahmed poster I would definitely be shocked. But questions arise. Are they genuine fans of these Pakistani cricketers or are they trying to send out some political message ? It unsettles me a bit. Should I be hiding the dependent card in my wallet that can reveal the Army background into some obscure corner in my luggage pack ? I carry on. After all I am just a tourist and I'll be out of the valley in a few days.

It is almost 8 p.m when I reach my hotel in Srinagar that a friend had arranged. The hotel staff is pretty intrigued. A man on a motorcycle strapped with luggage is an intriguing sight and I carry a lot of luggage. I am on a 7 month motorcycle trip and my whole world is traveling along with me. The seven pieces of luggage on my motorcycle reflects that. One of the hotel staff Tanvir, a handsome chap in his mid twenties is very excited. One of the perks of traveling in a motorcycle is the kind of awe you inspire in a lot of people you happen to meet. It is good for your ego and in hotels and restaurants service standards tend to improve a bit for you. He rushes to help me untie the luggage from my bike and carry it to my room and I settle in.

I come down for dinner and there I see the manager of the hotel with a few of his friends. They are interested in my story. They ask me questions and I answer them politely and honestly. Then they ask me "What does your father do". Thoughts race in my head. Should I tell them that he was an Army officer and now retired ? In most other places in the country, I mention my Army roots at the drop of a hat. Here I was in contemplation. These are extremely nice people but then the manager did try his luck to sell me the room at a higher rent. They seem to speak in a conspiring manner among themselves after every answer that I give them. But then it could just be the way Kashmiri sounds and one of them does look like he has a hard time understanding Hindi. Maybe they are just making fun of my looks in a language I don't understand. This thought enrages me. If I had a gun, I would kill them all right now.

I tell them "He was in the government service but now retired and settled in Kerala". I smile in my head. It was a masterstroke. I do not lie but I hide my Army roots too. Then I look at them. These people do not seem to be connected to insurgents in any way and my Army roots just wouldn't have mattered to them. Call it the dark thoughts in my head, I still am not able to trust them. I excuse myself and search for Tanvir. I find him standing near the kitchen. I ask him if there is a place nearby from where I could get some rum. He tells me to not bother, he will get it for me. He then asks if he could take my motorcycle to the market to get me my rum. I am reluctant. What if he gets into an accident or something ? I have the whole country to cover after this. I look at him. He is very excited and looks with a lot of expectation. I give him the keys and tell him to get a bottle of coke too. After all, everyone talks about the need for the Army to build bridges of trust with the local Kashmiri population. I am not in the Army but I'll just take the liberty of being one by way of association. Maybe this gesture could become one of the bricks in that bridge.

I finish my dinner and walk near the gate waiting for Tanvir to get back. I hear the sound of my motorcycle approaching and I can see the slight discomfort Tanvir is in. The coke bottle doesn't fit his pockets so he is carrying it in his mouth. It is quite a funny sight. I take the rum and the motorcycle keys and head off to my room and pour myself a drink. I sip my drink and I think of the day gone by. I think of the gun wielding soldier in the highway, I think of the sports shop adorned with posters of Pakistani cricketers. Guns may or may not kill people but it can definitely kill the trust in them. It doesn't matter whether you are holding the gun or whether you are living under its shadow. My thoughts are interrupted by a knock in the door. Tanvir stands outside.

I got up to open the door with another set of thoughts racing through my head. Maybe they came to know my Army roots and Tanvir stands outside holding a gun, ready to spray me with bullets. I gulp down my drink. If I am going to meet my maker tonight, I should be able to tell him that I finished my drink. I open the door. Tanvir is there and he mutters something. I don't understand. I ask him what happened and listen more attentively this time. He tells me that he hurt the inner part of his lips while carrying the coke in his mouth. Then he pulls out his lips from his fingers and shows it to me. I really can't see anything and I don't understand his point of telling me all this. Maybe he expected more gratitude from me. I guess that one thank you I said at that time was not enough. I try to figure out what he wants. Was he hoping that I kiss him ? He is a handsome man no doubt but I am not into men like that. Suddenly the thought of being sprayed by bullets seemed a much better option.

We stand there in silence for a brief moment. Tanvir then breaks the silence and asks "Can I have some alcohol ?" I heave a sigh of relief. I smile and say "sure". I pour him a drink. A large peg. He pours some more rum in it, adds maybe 10ml of water and gulps it down in one shot. I hadn't even taken the first sip from the drink that I had poured for myself. I thought I'll have a conversation with him and build some bridges of trust. I ask him if he needs another drink. He declines. He gets up and leaves saying he has some work to attend to but he will be back with his cousin Tariq in a while. He asks me not to sleep and he goes out. I keep sipping my rum and wait for them. In about 15 minutes they both come to my room. I pour extra large pegs for both of them. Tanvir adds 10ml of water to it. Tariq fills up the remaining glass with coke. They both gulp it down. Maybe its a Kashmiri thing. Tariq isn't really blessed in the looks department. Compared to Tanvir who is strikingly handsome, Tariq is pretty plain looking. He is pretty plain looking even if you compare him to a rock. What he lacks in looks, he makes up in speech. Older and more sensible, he tells me about the places I should be checking out the next morning. Shankaracharya Mandir, Nishat Garden, Shalimar Garden and then the Hazrat bal. I make a mental note. Tariq & Tanvir leave now but before leaving we have made plans for a party in my room after dinner the next day. I'll be getting the alcohol and they will be getting some weed. I look forward to the next day. More so for the night. Maybe I will be able to build those bridges.

The next morning, I visit all the touristy places Tariq had mentioned. I leave my Army dependent card in my room. I am being safe. One could say a scared too. The Army is not really very popular in these parts. Am I being a little paranoid here ? The chances of finding that person who hates the Army so much so as to harm me - someone who is just a son of a retired Army officer is minuscule. Even more minuscule is the chance that he would happen to glance through my wallet to find out my Army roots. Still I won't take that chance. In places where guns are a common sight, trust becomes the first casualty. I spend the whole day roaming around in my motorcycle and stopping around to see places. Srinagar is a beautiful city. I have spent the whole day admiring it. The Dal lake, the Mughal road along the Dal lake, the gardens, the mountains in the background. It is the kind of beauty that makes you say a small prayer for peace. It is almost dark and I head back to my hotel. I make a stop at the liquor shop and pick up a bottle of rum. A bigger bottle tonight. After all there is a party in my room.

Tariq sees me carrying the bottle of rum up my room. He smiles. I smile. I have done my part of the deal. He says "We will come in the night". Something about the way he said it, I knew he had done his part of the deal. There is going to be a party tonight. I freshen up, wile away some time and head down for dinner. After dinner I head up to my room and wait for them. It takes a while but they show up. Tariq bought along some sort of a green salad with him. Sweet on his part but I really don't give a damn. What I give a damn about is the other green stuff which was his part of the deal. He takes out the weed and keeps it on the table. I smile in my head. This is going to be fun.

We start drinking. They gulp down their drinks while I tend to hold it longer but refills are done at the same time. We smoke a joint. We drink some more. The conversations which started with lame, cliched questions and the lame responses to it has now moved on to more interesting and intellectual stuff. Women, Our love life or the lack of it in our lives. Tariq looks like a man who has never been with a woman and has resigned to that fate. Tanvir has that mix of rage and sadness in short bursts that a jilted lover experiences. He rants on and on about the girl he loves and how her father is opposed to the union because he is poor and the girl is rich. Tariq and me have that mix of amusement and concern in short bursts that a friend of a jilted lover experiences. I try to slip in a conversation about the insurgency situation in Kashmir. They give me one or two sentences on how it was bad earlier but now things are better. Then they again start talking about women. I am relieved. When twenty something men are more interested in talking about women than politics you know that the world is a better place. However it can also be that they don't trust me enough. It was a crazy night. We drank. We smoked. I learnt some Kashmiri swear words. We tried to fix a light bulb standing on a plastic chair and we failed. We managed to break the chair though. Somewhere in this camaraderie I thought of slipping in my Army roots to them. I don't. I guess even I didn't trust them enough.

I am up early morning and fixing up my luggage on the motorcycle when Tariq is ready with the toast and butter as promised by him last night. It was complimentary as the manager would only arrive by 8 in the morning and he did not have to know. Tanvir just about manages to wake up in time to see me off. By 7 I am off. I ride through the Mughal road on the side of the Dal Lake. It is beautiful. I say a small prayer for peace. Kargil my next stop is some 200 odd Kms away. I was finally going to get out of the valley. The gun wielding soldier, the skepticism of my interactions with people in Srinagar - everything is slowly fading away. I am out of Srinagar, I have crossed Ganderbal and I am on my to Sonamarg. Just when I thought everything was fading away, I see a gun wielding soldier standing guard in a small tea shop along the highway a little ahead. I decide to stop for some tea, cigarettes and possibly a conversation with him.

The soldier is a soft spoken guy from Bihar. He has a wife and two children residing in Bihar. He and the tea shop owner share a chemistry bought upon by a need for humans to interact with each other who have been put together by some order of fate. I wonder how much they trust each other. I have my tea and I am smoking a cigarette. I offer him one. He doesn't smoke. We are talking about the weather and the road conditions and the distances and the time I would take to reach certain places on the way. My mind wanders to other thoughts.

Our nation is a nation bereft of heroes. The forces are one of the few institutions which we look up to every single time when we need to feel good about ourselves. They are our heroes. In our quest to proclaim them as heroes, we often forget they are human. They have fears. The soldier standing there does not hide his identity. He can be recognized from a mile away. He wears his uniform with pride. The locals view him with skepticism. They do not see his fear. The terrorist has the advantage of surprise. He looks like any other local guy. He can be in a salwar or he can be wearing jeans. He can be a 15 year old kid or he can be a 40 year old man. He may come in a motorcycle or he may come in a car. The soldier has to be alert every time someone passes by. He is doing a job that ideally has to be done by the local police force. The political situation in the valley won't allow it. It is not that he fears the enemy. He is trained for that. What he fears is the fact that the enemy is unknown. Maybe this is a discourse that needs to be initiated in the Army's Sadbhavana missions trying to win the trust of the local population. Who says heroes need to be fearless ? The fear can remain. Heroes just need to overcome them.

I bid him farewell and head towards Sonamarg. A dark thought enters my head as I leave. What if he gets killed in an attack ? Nobody might even come to know. If it gets some media attention, a wily politician might get some votes. Maybe his wife will get a gas station too. The internet patriots will raise a war cry on social networks.

I remember the words my father told me during the Kargil war. We were watching a news telecast at home where people high on emotions and patriotic fervour on camera were going "We are all behind the Indian Army. Teach them a lesson". My father just smiled and remarked "Why behind. Please stand in front"

"The soldier above all others prays for peace, for it is the soldier who must suffer and bear the deepest wounds and scars of war - Douglas MacArthur"

The grieving family of the soldier at the end of it all will take solace from the fact that the man who was a son, a brother, a husband, a father, a friend - he died a hero. As for me I am not a soldier. I am just a tourist and in a few hours, I will be out of the Kashmir valley.

Srinagar picture album from this trip

About Me:

A 7 month motorcycle ride that took me to every state in India, parts of Nepal and Bhutan and one town in Burma. These blog entries are inspired by this trip. Stories about people I met, stories about places I saw. Things that intrigued me, things that amused me. They say traveling changes you, they say traveling inspires you and they say a lot of other stuff. I don't know. I think a gun on the head is a better way to change people. I just hope that my travel stories entertain you

Right now I am in the process of writing a book based on this trip and figuring out the difference between a writer's block and procrastination.

You can find more information on my Facebook page and Instagram account