Well, got to tvm in india a few hours ago. The trip, which is never fun, worked out ok because the flight was only 12.5 hours to Kuwait (which is barrels of fun), and then 5 hours here. That sounds ridiculous, but compared to the olden days when we'd fly to Japan, Singapore, Malaysia, and then India, this was wonderful (in total, less than 30 hours). The food was actually fantastic, and the flight carried the finest Bollywood films of last week.

I was worked over by security like 9 times on Sunday. Amazing, really. I had to explain why I had pizza stuff, and 30 rolls of toilet paper (another creature comfort). Random check, sure. I think there's just a button by all the machines they can hit to light it up (although I made sure to get rid of my terrorist-chic beard before leaving). But Kuwait knows how to do security. They won't let you on their plane unless they've inspected every bit of anything you packed, as well as your person, although that explains why they start boarding 2 hours before a flight.

At the Kuwait airport, everyone looked like an extra from "Rock the Casbah". And I hard to work very, very hard not to mention that. Or hum the song. Or envision all these guys dancing in weird unison. It was odd; they're all millionaires, they all have like 5 bodyguards, and it doesn't really look like they have a lot to do...

I'm sitting in an internet cafe/photocopy repair shop/billiards hall, and I've got a t-1 line that I'm being charged approximately $0.23 / hour to use. Not only that, but a guy is coming over to my house tomorrow morning to cut my hair for like a dollar. And I can get some decently hip glasses for around $12 (including prescription). Forces are in motion to make me a member of "The Trivandrum Club", where they take part in all manner of colonial diversions. I'm resolved to introduce myself as Lord Finston, and hope someone teaches me polo. I'm trying to be entertaining, but it's just not working. I better just quit.