I finally broke my jet lag this morning, waking up to the bitter sweet sound of an alarm clock rather than the silence of lost sleep. We had arranged for a 6AM trip to Pushkar, a Hindu town deep in the desert that had become an international oasis for hippies.

The drive out included the customary 'sudden hunger' of the driver that compels them to pull into their friend's tourist restaurant and store. He earns a commission and we are supposed to pay twice the regular tourist prices for basic items. Unfortunately, we weren't hungry or in need of Indian paraphernalia, making us bad patrons and compelling the salesman to give us the well known Indian nod which can mean both "you're welcome" and a sarcastic "whatever". We got the "whatever".

Experiencing the Indian nod made me realize that manners can be as much cultural as genetic. While the Euro-American nod has the chin move up or down, the Indian head nod consists of rotating the chin left or right without moving the latitude and longitude of the center their face. This creates the illusion that their head is somehow floating above their neck, leading most American tourists I have encountered to compare this to a bobble head toy that sticks to the dashboard of a car. One nod usually means approval; multiple nods translates to expletives.

Indians must be deep sleepers. In both the cities and the outskirts, residences line the road. These homes are constructed of brick, mud, fabric, leaves or air. At best they mute a few decibels. However, drivers honk as though pushing on their horns pumps gasoline into the engine, ensuring that these excruciating noises find their way to every local eardrum. Yet somehow people continue to sleep in front of their houses, closer to the road, rather than setting up camp beyond earshot.

At least one group appears to appreciate honking: the drivers. Each truck has the words "blow horn" painted in primary colors on its rear, inviting tailgaters to inform slow pace cars of their presence.

The trip to Pushkar was a success by every measure. We witnessed key cultural nuances (Hindu bathing), snapped 200 pictures, met interesting people and ate excellent food (that has yet to make our fair stomachs turn). I also procured a local-styled shirt and a pair of Afghani pants at prices bargained down to a just 300% markup, costing me a total of 4 dollars.

The three hour drive back was uneventful, but continued to provide exceptional people watching. Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T