What a Trip! Read Online Free PDF

said. “Your two plus my two.”
    â€œYou’re so good at math. Come on, let’s do lunch.”
    It was more of the same for the next few days, as the steamer finally left the Red Sea and launched out into the Indian Ocean. Waves, water, wetness, you know.
    Then, on Sunday, October 20, at around two in the afternoon, the Mongolia arrived in the port of Bombay.
    For the entire voyage, Mr. Fogg had played cards with an English soldier named Sir Francis Cromarty. Sir Francis was a nice old man who actually did know about India. I hoped he’d turn out to be a good character in this story.
    When Mr. Fogg finally appeared on deck, carpetbag in hand, having seen none of the voyage, he announced, “According to my calculations, we have arrived two days ahead of schedule. This is good news.”
    â€œGood news? This is wondrous news!” said Passepartout, hanging over the railing and gazing at the giant city that spread out before us. “Bombay! India! I finally get a chance to see some of this wonderful world!”
    â€œUs, too!” I said. Then, nudging Frankie, I added, “And maybe we’ll get to leave Detective Fix behind.”
    We all clambered down the plank and onto the dock.
    â€œAh, Bombay,” said Sir Francis Cromarty, wiping his forehead. “One of the gems of all of India. Today in Bombay there is a festival of one of the religious groups known as the Parsees. They have wonderful customs, very colorful, very musical.”
    â€œIndeed?” said Fogg, glancing coolly at his watch. “The train for Calcutta leaves in just over half an hour. Passepartout, you have your errands. Everyone, if you please, we shall meet at the train station in exactly thirty-three minutes beginning … now! Do not fail!”
    â€œI shall not!” said Passepartout.
    â€œUs not, either!” I said.
    With that, Fogg and Sir Francis strode off toward the train station to get tickets. That left Frankie and me alone with Passepartout at the foot of a huge city.
    â€œWe don’t get much time to look around,” I said, staring at all the pink and orange and purple buildings.
    â€œThat’s the whole problem with life,” said Frankie. “There’s always too much stuff to do. You can’t enjoy the best things. Like just wandering around.”
    â€œI agree with Frankie,” said Passepartout. “Are we to miss Bombay as we have missed Paris and Rome?”
    â€œIt does seem harsh,” I said. “Besides, what trouble can we get into in just … thirty-two minutes?”
    The first thing we found out as we wandered into the city was that Sir Francis was right. There really was a religious festival going on. Down one street of pink stone buildings there came a parade of people dancing to the sound of tambourines and drums and strange, whining musical instruments.
    â€œAwesome!” said Frankie.
    â€œLet’s follow the parade,” said Passepartout.
    â€œMaybe there’s food at the end of it!” I added.
    The parade wound through narrow streets and up a hill to a giant temple with a big pointy dome on top.
    â€œA lost temple!” I said. “How cool can you get?”
    Frankie gave me a look. “It’s not lost if everybody knows about it.”
    Passepartout was doing his own little dance and heading toward the big building.
    â€œWe should go after Passepartout,” I said.
    Frankie chewed her lip. “I don’t know ….”
    â€œIt looks like fun. I’m going!” I rushed after him.
    Frankie grumbled, but soon caught up with us. Together, we slid through one of the pointed arch-ways and into the temple. The high dome was decorated inside with tiny colored tiles, some of which were gold. Light filtered down through openings around the top, shedding streams of colored light across the floor.
    It was cool and hushed inside the huge room.
    â€œIt’s beautiful!” Passepartout