Some Highlights from Northern India:

Realizing that monkeys are just another type of squirrel here. Or maybe they are more like raccoons, because you’ve got to watch out what you leave outside. In Varanasi there were signs all over my guesthouse that read, "Beware of the crazy monkeys!"

Watching the men dressed in orange arrive at the Ganges to fill their water vessels. Some of them had walked 70-90 kilometers barefoot, I was told. Not all were walking, though—the train stations were packed with orange-clad young men with decorated staffs.

Realizing that, despite the fact that this society is conservative in many ways, it is acceptable for men to pee whenever and wherever they feel like it. I was looking out of a train window as we left a station, and a man facing me just whipped it out and started urinating on the tracks next to me. A Fulbright alum said that he had seen a man peeing while bargaining with a customer!

Deciding to question my new Indian friend about his shirt that read, "Sinner." This was at the Hill Top Restaurant in Fatehpur Sikri. I had been having a conversation with the soft-spoken man who seemed to own the establishment, and I just couldn’t get over the black, sequin shirt he was wearing. He had no idea was "sinner" meant, and I hope he continues wearing it now that he does. I thought he would be amused, but he took the illumination quite seriously.

Discovering that each city would bring a new kind of hustling and con-artist. New Delhi--at the monuments people would come over and start telling you about the tomb; after guiding you for 5-10 minutes, they would expect money. I learned quickly, but it still felt strange to bolt away from someone when he approached you saying, "This window is in the Moghul style. . ." Agra--the rickshaw drivers were crazy to get a customer here. Even after saying no, they would often follow you for a few blocks, just to be sure. Varanasi--there were tons of friendly people who would help you along the way and then try to bring you to a shop—silk, carpets, tailors, etc. In many cases young boys were sent out to gather customers. I found these people to be the least aggravating, because I would just take their card and promise to come back later. (Although there was one time that I came out after having an hour lunch to find that my young guide was waiting for me outside!)

Witnessing the strength of people who look so frail. I swear, the oldest and skinniest men are the ones pedaling the bike rickshaws. And they charge less! One man offered me a ride for 10 rupees (about 25 cents). Then there are the women with bushels of greens larger than themselves on their heads. I couldn’t believe it when I saw women stacking brick after brick on their toweled heads.