Rickshaw Craaaazy

If you need to go someplace that is too far to walk, an auto rickshaw is the most popular way to get around in India. I have spent a lot of time on rickshaws in the last year and a half. As a result, I have some pretty funny rickshaw memories!

Last summer while riding with Rebecca and Laurel and about 60 pairs of school shoes, our rickshaw driver took off full speed, causing our seat to start sliding backwards. We had our hands so full we were bursting out of the small space and people were looking at us like we were aliens from outer space. Three American's in the back of a rickshaw brings on the paparazzi. Indians pull out their phones and cameras and start snapping away. We were already laughing at the scene we were causing when our seat began to slide backwards. We had no hands free to grab on and we just laughed harder as we clung to the auto with our legs. Then, as we turned a corner, we heard a LOUD shot that sounded like a gun going off. It happened again. And again. Our auto with the sliding seat was now backfiring every few seconds. As if we weren't already causing a big enough scene!

We. Laughed. So. Hard.

This summer, Cassie and I took an auto to go shop for special clothes for Victoria and Genevieve. They were having a program at their school and we wanted them to look just as special as all of their friends. We hopped in and the driver turned up the radio with the base booming. Cassie and I looked at each other and burst out laughing when we heard the words "I like to move it move it!" blaring from the speakers. Of all the places in the world to hear that song, the back of an auto in India is where I would LEAST expect it.

We sped through traffic and as we dodged people, bikes, cars, carts and animals.

I like to move it,move it
She likes to move it,move it
He likes to move it,move it
You like to ("move it")

Last but not least, I was in Hyderabad with Jeanette for an eye appointment. I took a rickshaw to the Apple service shop to pick my computer up. As we pulled into traffic, the driver honked his horn. What came out was not a beep. Not a blare. Not a boom. It was a shrieking woman's scream!!! I'm not kidding. His horn was a woman's scream. I quickly dialed Cassie's number on the phone so she could experience the ride and the 'honking' with me.

In a country where it's REALLY hot all the time; where the work with the kids though wonderful, is also exhausting; where everything is an adjustment and every day I am challenged a little more to die to my self, I just really cherish these moments of laughter!