I guess this will be the last of the travel email.  I'm a little sad about that
but my sense of relief is greater.

The abstract of this letter is as follows:

The entire population of the planet lives to make money.  Dramatically
indigenous culture or non-monetized ways of life no longer exist.  Forget
worrying about globalization and cultural homogenization; just put more money
into interest bearing investment vehicles.  It's happening, has happened, and
is irreversible.

There is very little wild land (nature undisturbed) left in the world.  Perhaps
it might be even more accurate to say that there is none left.  I have not seen
the Australian outback or the Brazilian rain forests, but of where I have been,
only some of Nepal, a great deal of Mongolia, and tiny little slivers of Africa
exhibit what I can immediately identify as wildness.  The rest of the land
bears the scars of human development and the unmistakable signs of being
managed for the human dominated food chain.

The world is dirty, polluted, and smelly.  The global economic system is
fucking up the world and it's got to stop.  Unfortunately the system displaces
the most comfortable and powerful from the disgusting effects of their
lifestyle (wealth can be separated from the place of its production) so there
will be no move to correct the system until something calamitous occurs.  

Is that enough of a depressing synopsis for you?  "The World in Three
Sentences" by Frank Wood -- makes you laugh doesn't it?  

 I'm tired of traveling and I'm tired of being apart from Karen.  I'm tired of
 being smelly and dirty and wearing the same three outfits that I didn't quite
 get clean at the last hole-in-the-floor equipped, non-AC bathroom.  And I've
 seen enough to know what I've just told you is true.  And I'm afraid if I
 stayed away any longer I might get radical and try to do something about it.

I've had a plethora of fascinating experiences between my last update and now.
I rode the Trans-Mongolian rail to Beijing, hired a translator I met on the
Internet and traveled through Beijing, Jinan, Wuxi, and Shanghai, got wet in
Nepal, and gave myself hot-food inspired indigestion here in India.  Let me
start with the Trans-Mongolian experience.

I met a woman and her fiance in Kathmandu who had traveled via the Trans-Sib.
When I mentioned that I'd done the same her eye's visibly lit up and it was
clear that we understood the same thing about the trip.  It's a touching
adventure; the only of my endurance travels that I would certainly do again.
My compartment-mates (4 per compartment, 2 German girls and a Chinese guy) and
I easily counted 11 different nationalities riding the train (Russian, Chinese,
and Mongolian accounted for most of the people, but there were Germans,
Americans, Swedes, Danes, Swiss, Spanish, French, and English aboard as well).
It's a seven day adventure: two days to get to know the people in your
compartment and the train, 3 days to have fun and learn about each other, then
two to say goodbye and pack.  No one gets bored and no one gets annoyed.  The
scenery is always changing, from economically depressed and crumbling Russia to
stark Mongolia to farmed-to-the-hilt China. 

Actually, I have to cut this note to you short:  I've got an appointment with a
tailor here in Mumbai.  The last travel stories I will send to you are:

1) Party hard on the Trans-Mongolian:  How to bribe the dining car attendant
into letting you chill 20 liters of beer in the food car fridge.  2) Making
dumplings at Mrs. Ma's in Wuxi, China:  Never irritate your translator while
learning how to use a Chinese rolling pin.  3) A Nepal Holy Cow:  Protected by
religion they might be, but don't walk too close unless you enjoy a good
dilemma.

I'll be in New York tomorrow.

See you later,

Frank