I arrived in India on March 15, 2014.  I started in Kolkata, where I visited my sister Jayanthi.  I traveled to Bangalore, where her boyfriend Aakash and his Kolkata quintet (*with her as the jazz singer) toured and visited family, continued on to Goa for some beach time, and then to Hyderabad, and Rajahmundry, in the soon-to-be-split state of Andhra Pradesh to visit more family. I returned to Kolkata, using that as my base as I travel through a bit of northeast India with my sister and her friend Alec.  Then I returned to Kolkata again, spending time with my sister, seeing her students’ school musical, and volunteering for a few days at Mother Teresa’s Home for the Dying and Destitute.  These are my blog posts from my time in India.

Happy Holi!!!

Hello!  I am currently in Kolkata, in West Bengal, India.  My sister and her boyfriend have been living here since August, which is the main reason I chose to start my journey here.  And the reason I wanted to start travel when I did is because I wanted to be in India for the Holi Festival.  This is a Hindu festival which celebrates the changing of season with color.  And I mean with COLOR.

 

This festival is apparently celebrated on a few different days during this week throughout the different areas of India.  In the birthplace of one of the gods, I read that they celebrate for the full week, and re-enact scenes from the god’s life.  The national holiday for Holi this year is March 17th.  Bengali Holi is the day before.  (confused yet?)
I arrived late morning on the 15th.  This was perfect as it gave me a little time to recouperate from travel before the Holi celebrations.  I hadn’t known about the 16th and so had lucked out in that I didn’ try to arrive on that day itself thinking I had til today.  My sister picked me up at the airport and we went to her place where i napped a bit before my room at the guest house would be ready.  The guest house is only about a 5 minute walk from their house – quite convenient and very nice. I have my own room and bath.  I met a couple from Sweden and a guy from the Netherlands the first night.  The guest house is affiliated with the American Institute for Indian Studies (AIIS), which is the group Aakash has his fellowship through.

But back to the description of Holi.  The color is created by throwing or smearing colored powder on one another.  Or, sometimes just simply pouring a bucket of colored water over someone (which, incidentally, is how we were greeted at the party – Happy Holi- *splash*!)  Super fun.  Aakash’s friend (and bandmate) Gabu had invited us to a Holi party at his house.  When I got up in the morning, the streets were eerily quiet.  Many of the storefronts were closed and there was a lot less traffic, both vehicular and foot.  And then, from around the corner, came what looked like a gang of boys.  But they were all covered from head to toe in colored chalk!  And then I passed another group and a single and everyone had been painted.  As I walked to my sister’s in the cheap 50cent shirt I had gotten the day before, i could see people eyeing me, all clean and unsuspecting as I walked down the street.  Ah, what a tempting target.  I even walked alongside a group of giggling boys and girls for a half a block and they didn’t color me.  But I could tell they wanted to.  When i got to Aakash and Jayanthi’s, we had a little breakfast and got ready to go to the party.  As I came out of the bathroom, they caught me off guard and the coloring began!   Moments later, someone who worked nearby came to the door and put powder on all of us.  He put it on our foreheads, like a bindhi.

Then we were off to the party.  As we arrived, there were a group of people playing in the street.  Everyone was covered from head to toe in multicolored paint and chalk.  As I mentioned, my sister and I were each doused with a bucket of colored water as we walked up.  Then the colorfight continued for a very long time.

Now, I knew about the color aspect of Holi, but I wasn’t aware that another part of Holi, particularly in the north, is that people celebrate with Bhang. As soon as we were doused with color, we were handed a glass of bhang. The drink was made with milk and ice cream with cardamom and pistachios and whatnot. Quite tasty. Apparently Shiva frequently took bhang and on holi it’s done to acheive a similar transcendent state. This may be my favorite holiday ever…

After we were all covered with color and feeling quite happy, we decided to go for a little walk. And we formed our own gang of colorful hooligans! We walked around the town for a little while before returning to Gabu’s house for some delicious food his mother made.
After we returned home, perhaps the other best part of Holi was taking a shower and watching all the colors run down into the drain.  It looked like a kaleidescope or an easter egg party in my shower.   Good times.  All of the color won’t come off.  I look bruised all down my chest and my feet look filthy, except for the fact that you can tell on the edges that they are purple and green…  It’ll fade sooner or later, right?  

So, long story short – best Holi ever.  And to my Irish and American friends, Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

Monday, March 17th, 2014 at 10:38 am

 

 Kali, Goddess of Destruction… (or, Kali Begins.)

 

Today, I went to Kalighat, to the temple for the goddess Kali in Kolkata.  This is known, I believe to be one of the largest temples in the city and is known to me as well from my previous time in Kolkata. I may have mentioned this before, but I lived for a few months in the late 1990s here in Kolkata, volunteering with Mother Theresa’s Missionaries of Charity.  During those months, most of my time was spent at Kalighat, her Home for the Dying and Destitute, which is located literally right next-door to Kali Temple.

Although I’ve now been in India for several days now, I have yet to revisit my old “stomping grounds” from my previous time here in Kolkata.  My sister and her boyfriend live in Gowriahat, which is in the southern part of town.  Kalighat is a little to the west of where they stay, and when I lived here, I had to take a bus there from where I stayed, a little further north in town.

Since arriving, however, I went to the Holi party in one unfamiliar part of town, spent a day laid out in bed with the dreaded-yet-inevitable Delhi belly, and although we planned to go to Suder Street to a bar I used to frequent that my sister and her friends like now, everyone decided to stay in at the last minute cause it was so hot and a someone else was sick etc…  So, up until this morning, I hadn’t been to any of the places in Kolkata that were familiar to me yet.

I got up and met my sister and her friend Alec at her house for some breakfast.  Then we headed towards the nearest auto rickshaw stand to catch a ride east to the Kalighat area of town.  Alec had been to that area of town once before so we got easily to the stop we needed and then navigated us along the main road until we found the sign to turn for Kali Temple.

Things had begun to look a little familiar to me, but as soon as we turned for Kali Temple, I began to know the area pretty well.  And as we moved further from the main street along the smaller side streets, I could see a tall building with dozens of sheets drying on the roof.  (For simplicity, I will refer to the Missionaries of Charity’s home as Kalighat and the temple as Kali Temple from now on).  When I worked at Kalighat, one task I used to help with was the wash. After cleaning the linens from the patients’ cots in the mornings and we would hang the sheets to dry on the roof.  I recognized those distinctive blue sheets!  We headed for that building.

As we approached Kalighat, so did a small funeral procession.  There was a woman being brought down the street on a small cot.  I’m not sure what exactly was going on, where they were taking her, but they set her down directly across the road from us, by the back of building.  Now that I reflect, I am not certain why I assumed she was dead.  One could suppose she was simply sick and being brought to the home, in hopes of being taken in, helped, or cared for.  However, I cannot imagine anyone in that area of town being so wealthy or so exalted by their neighbors  that they would have an entire bed carried in a procession (Mother Teresa herself maybe being the exception, but she earned that respect after decades)…. Maybe I’m not quite so terribly cynical about everything, automatically assuming a funeral and such; after all.  I seem to recall that there was some sort of a procession and the cot was decorated with flowers.

It’s kind of hard to tell sometimes on an Indian street what part of the furor and hullabaloo is going where and with whom.  There can be so many people and so much chaos, it’s hard to tell who belongs where and with whom and what’s happening at any given moment.  India can be very overwhelming, to say the least.  I hesitated for a moment, unsure that I should photograph someone who had died, whether people would find it offensive.  And the street swallowed up the scene…

 

We moved on to the front of Kalighat.  Oh the memories!  There was a sign up that said no visitors, and we asked the guy at the door who said the sisters weren’t in that day.  This isn’t where the nuns live, by the way, the Mother House is in a different area of town.  The Missionaries of Charity actually have many homes and shelters throughout Kolkata (and the world) where they work.  Kalighat was the first Mother Teresa ever opened, though.  It houses about 50 men and 50 women.  Most simply come to die, having been brought in off the streets already close to death, so they are able to be washed, cleaned, and die with dignity.  It may not seem like much, but it’s a rather big something when you have nothing.

So I took a picture in front of the building, something I didn’t have from before.  Back in 1998, when I volunteered here, I’d gotten permission to take some photographs, but much of my film was somehow ruined, lost or overdeveloped.  I am not sure exactly, I just remember I lost many of the pictures I took then.  It’s nice to have one.

Then, we turned and I immediately knew the way to Kali temple.  There was a little back route I knew around the side of Kalighat that took us to a back entrance of Kali temple.   We checked our shoes and then entered the temple.  I should tell you now that we weren’t supposed to take pictures in the temple at all.  Any of the pictures I post here were taken rather surreptitiously, and are a bit taboo/sketchy/chaotic.  However, it kind of fits the vibe of the temple, so….

The temple is a small square compound which has within it a few smaller altars, or mini-temples.  Kali is best known as the goddess of destruction, also of change, and time.  Most images of her involve her standing on the a body (usually Shiva, her consort), brandishing weapons and often holding a severed head in one of her arms.  Each morning, many goats are sacrificed to Kali, particularly at this temple.  (In the past, human sacrifice was practiced, but I believe it’s been at least a century or so….)  We entered into the temple courtyard and immediately got into line forming to enter the central temple where the big Kali idol is housed.  She is the “main attraction”, if you will.  There were two lines, one which moved quickly allowed people to simple swing by the outside and catch a glimpse through a window.  The other line took people through into the inner sanctum in smaller groups.  It moved much more slowly.  We got into this line and after a bit it was our turn.  We came into a room which I shall try to describe for you.  However, I don’t think I shall do it justice.

The inner room of the Kali temple was dark and loud.  (Oddly, the pictures make it look brighter than it was.)  The cries of both priests and supplicants bounced off of the vaulted ceiling, amplified and magnified into a cacophony of sound.  The room was hot and smoky, and the ground was wet.  Water ran under our feet (I hoped it was just water, but I rather doubt it, particularly based on later observations), gathering into one or two small drainage gutters which ran out of holes in the wall.  In the center of the room was a large cage.  Behind the grill/metal grate, was the idol.  The people were routed around the room, circling behind Kali arriving finally right in front of her before exiting the room.  Trying not to trip and slip, I came into the room and a priest pressed flowers into my hands and put a tikka of powder on my forehead.  He then expected money – a great racket they’ve got going on there, the people throw the flowers, the priests pick up the flowers and give them back to the people to throw again and charge them for it.  They also sell fresh flowers at the gate.  He asked Alec for more money and asked repeatedly for a larger sum.

There was a small space cleared in the center where people who had a special priest/tour guide could come to pray/toss flowers and where the priests gathered and opened the grate from the side to pull out the piles of flowers and incense.  One priest stood balanced up on the grate and the wall, waving a lamp with fire and incense burning, which he would sometimes tuck up into a small alcove in the wall.  Only the small entrance and exit were in this room. As that guy juggled a flaming lamp (Aladdin Genie-style) of oil and incense over our heads, I remember thinking, ‘Ah, now I understand how it can happen that you hear about a fire at a temple where some tens or a hundred people died.  No exits, badly ventilated.  Tons of people in a tiny room. Panic.  I can see it.  That’s gonna be us today.’  I said nothing to Jayanthi and Alec, but afterwards, I found out Alec had been thinking the same thing!

We came around to the front of Kali, and gave our flowers and proceeded out of the inner sanctum.  Whle waiting to go in the line had curved around the courtyard.  We had seen into some of the smaller altar rooms inside the outer temple wall.  At one people came and gave a donation while a woman sitting there poured what looked like coconut milk into their mouths.  At another, there appeared to be a shivalingham, or the Yoni and lingham, representing the male and female symbols.  In another, you could smell blood and we soon saw why.

There were people standing outside this area with several young goats. We saw a trail of blood along the floor from that room through the courtyard down to a corner shop in the outer temple wall where a couple of butchers were chopping furiously.  After their sacrifice, the goats were put to good use – immediately being strung up for meat.

My father used to work at Kalighat (he lived in Calcutta thirty years before I did, in the late 1960s when he attended seminary). He worked every weekend with Mother Teresa at Kalighat.  He told me that he could hear (and see from the building next door, I believe), so many goats being sacrificed each morning.  He said that the temple priests got to take home the goat meat.  I’m not aure about the situation here.  Either way, we were wondering how often that butcher had to sharpen his cleaver, he sure was using it quickly and frequently!

 

There were some sweet shops and flower shops to round out the rest of the inside area of the temple. We went through the quick line to see what we could see of Kali through the window as well.  It was just a quick glimpse but it was interesting to see how people clamoured forward to catch a glimpse.  All in all it was quite busy, overwhelming, and extremely interesting.  I had been thinking that it was a rather fitting beginning to my journey, visiting Kali.  Sometimes, in order to have new beginnings, we must also embrace endings.  The destruction of our old life and former ways leads to the start of a new way, fresh beginnings.  I was so glad that I had had the chance to revisit and remember the place that had such an influence upon my life and the person I have become.  So many of my memories of my time there, including a brief visit to Kali temple with my old friend Paul during that time are jumbled, vague, and/or chaotic.  I don’t know if that’s because Calcutta herself and my time here was so chaotic or if my experience was, but I needed that trip to Kalighat, the place of Kali.

We left the temple, and headed back through the Kalighat area.  We stopped for dab (coconut water drunk straight out of the coconut) and actually completely bought one lady out, drinking a total of 7 between the 3 of us!  Then we caught an auto back to Gowriahat.  I was meeting one of my father’s old classmates, now a retired Bishop, and his wife for lunch.  My sister needed to return to prepare for a performance that she and Aakash had at a club that evening.  More about that later!

March 21, 2014 00:37

 

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Concerts (Ban)-Galore!

My sister Jayanthi and her boyfriend Aakash are both musicians. (While I may be a little biased) They are both incredible artists. You can check out their websites by clicking on their names. They are both living in Kolkata and working on their music. Aakash, composer and alto saxophonist extraordinaire, has a fellowship with the American institute of Indian Studies (AIIS) where he is studying with a master and expanding his fascinating blend of jazz and Indian music. Jayanthi, a vocal performer and music teacher, has been teaching at a school in Kolkata and has joined with Aakash’s (usually quartet)jazz band to sing and improv. This past weekend, the Aakash Mittal Kolkata Quintet toured in Bangalore. I was lucky enough to attend their concerts!

…And they were awesome! Aakash has been playing with three other guys in Kolkata, Nishad, Gorav (aka the afore mentioned Gabu), and Bumpy, all supremely accomplished musicians. The night before we left Kolkata, the group performed at the jazz night at Plush, a club on Shakespeare Sirani, a road near Suder St (kind of an old landmark of mine). It was the first time I’d heard them all perform together, and the first time I had heard Jaya sing jazz (usually, as a classically trained soprano vocalist, she sings more operatic songs). I really enjoyed the whole experience.  I went to the concert with Alec, one of Jayanthi’s best friends in Kolkata and another of her closest friends Matt met us there.

There were many other AIIS friends of theirs who came to the concert who I have met already and some people who I had gotten to meet at Gabu’s Holi party, such as his sister Tikita, who is really nice, and quite brilliant, just like their mom (whom Jayanthi and I were quite blown away by at the Holi party, btw).   We had a really enjoyable time at the excellent concert.  I headed out with Matt a little early to go home and pack for my flight to Bangalore in the morning with the band.

As soon as we arrived in Bangalore, all the guys and Jayanthi had to go for a sound check at the jazz club they were performing at that night, bFlat.  I took a cab to my cousin Pranuthi’s house.  I’ll be staying with her, her husband Emmu, and their three kids for almost a week.  Her oldest is a girl named Sanchita, who I met when she was about a year old.  She is now 12.  She has a younger brother Tharan, and their little bro, Vivan is almost 4.   Their home is in S. Bangalore, near a hotel/conference center/concert venue complex my cousin Emmu works at.  He’s spearheading the program expanding their concert venue.  Aakash’s performance is the second large music concert they’re having this year.  This CEO Centre is the biggest music venue this side of town.  The group plays here tonight, and tomorrow will play at a huge mall in B’lore, the Phoenix mall.

Last night, Pranu, Emmu’s sister Rachel, and I went to bFlat for the concert.  Again, we were wowed and impressed by the performance.  One of my favorite jazz tunes is Summertime, from Porgy and Bess.  Now, I have to tell you about an absolutely great “Only in India” moment that I had. I was looking over the menu at bFlat and I saw that they had Irish Coffee. Now, I’ve been on this crazy, desperate, coffee craving since I got ton india. I had become a bit of a coffeeholic before leaving the States. I’m having a hard time getting my coffee fix here in India. (Not only because we don’t have it often enough, but because America conditioned me to these giant sized coffees with double shots of espresso). So, I see Irish coffee, which has whiskey and coffee, om the menu, and I’m thinking….yeah! Sounds good!

Crazy India Initiating…First, when I try to order, the guy tells me there’s no coffee. None. Then, as I re-peruse the menu, looking for something else, the guy from behind the bar, calls out that there can, in fact, be coffee. So, I order it and after a bit, this guy puts a wine glass in front of me. It’s full of a dark liquid and at the top is a creamy, delicious looking…froth. What? did i get the wrong drink? It actually looks like it might be Guinness. did I read the menu incorrectly, or not know my drinks? No. It’s the one i ordered. And don’t get me wrong. It’s definitely hot coffee. Literally only holdable by the stem. Oh, India.

March 22, 2014  01:32

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 In Goa~ but InterNOT set up

Hi!  I’m writing from Goa!  I am staying in a beautiful hotel called the Empire Beach Resort.  It’s on Calangute Beach, in North Goa.  It was suggested to me by my sister’s friend Alec.  My cousin Pranu called to check on pricing for me (you never know when they’re going to rip you off just cause you’re a foreigner!) and we booked the place for the 6 nights I’ll be here.  I checked to make sure, but it’s definitely got internet access.  I got the wi-fi password even as I checked in.   However, my computer won’t connect.  In addition, my phone, which has been able to receive texts and phone calls with this Indian SIM card, is no longer doing even that, and I just upped the minutes, and added data to the plan!  So now, I have no way to communicate.  I can’t even call the Vodafone people to figure out what’s up.  Oh, India.

I arrived here a day ago.  Mrs. Irani, who owns the Empire Resort, sent a car to pick me up.  Pretty convenient not to have to arrange one.  (Also, I felt pretty special looking for my name on a sign as I came out of the airport!) My plane was delayed an hour or so, so it was already just past dusk as I came out of the airport.  The driver brought the car around and during the hour or so drive to the hotel told me about the area, places to go, things to see, local specialties, etc.

My hotel room is on the  main floor, with a little balcony that overlooks the pool, which overlooks the lawn which opens to the beach.  Pretty sweet.

I went down to the beach the first night and sat at one of the shacks and had some shrimp sauteed in garlic butter (something I had been told by several people not to miss).  They were amazing and satisfying.  I headed back to the hotel.

In the morning, I had breakfast at the Empire’s Restaurant.  It’s located in a little tower on the grounds, giving a bit of a bird’s eye view up and down the beach and the area. Really spectacular…  I enjoyed my morning coffee a lot up there, and tried to convince my laptop to connect to the internet.  I also placed an order for dinner that night.  One of the local dishes, the Kingfish.

Aside from some serious attempts to make the internet connection today, my only real goal involves lying around on the beach a lot and swimming.

*    *    *    *    *

I’ve been hanging out here at one of the beach shacks (basically bars on the beach, usually with lounge chairs, umbrellas, (sometimes the wi-fi they advertise even works!)  I had some beach induced insight…it even sounds a little poetic:  The might of one just might, but the might of many is mighty.  I was watching a boy start pushing with all his strength to try and move a boat (the one in the picture, clearly stuck in the sand , far from the water).  He was somehow joined by many others and successfully launched the boat against the tide, a task he literally could not have accomplished alone.  The boat I assumed beached until morning (which may not have even belonged to the two boys who are now joyriding along the shore…) is now gone from my immediate view. Actually, a rather impressive feat, the might of many!

I am going to head back to the hotel now, to try out a Kingfish. I like Kingfisher beer, (it’s my favorite Indian lager). Kingfisher birds must eat Kingfish. I assume, therefore, that I’ll like the Kingfish I ordered for dinner….

March 27, 2014 @23:25

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Go, go, go, Goa!

I’m sitting in a Greek restaurant in Goa, India.  I’m drinking 10 year Glen Livet Scotch Whisky and listening to American techno pop music pumped through the speakers. Breezes blow in off the Arabian Sea and I watch the sun set in the West before me.  After I finish my meal, I’ll get back on the Japanese Motorbike that I rode here (probably powered by petrol from Gulf Coast – I feel so worldly!)and hope I can find my back to the hotel in the dark.

I don’t think I’d be very concerned, except I got lost more than a couple of times on my way here.  I definitely circled back past the same intersection more than once.   (I know for sure because it was an intersection where I had stopped and looked at my “map” for a few minutes, so I was fairly sure of the layout and stores at each of the 7 corners at that intersection (don’t ask me how, but one was a triangle…)  and I definitely came through it at least twice from the same direction.

Somehow I made it to this restaurant my cousin told me about. It’s called Thalassa and it’s on Vagator Beach, or near it, or overlooking it, -ish…  I definitely Google mapped it before I left the hotel, but I don’t have service or data on my phone right now, and so I don’t have wi-fi when I’m moving out and about, so no access to the directions.  So I took a screenshot of the map, but even though I stopped to look at it (at crazy corner, for example), it wasn’t so helpful without zoom-ability on all the back roads.  And even though I asked multiple (and I mean MANY) people for directions, most just said straight ….then turn (and there would be like seventeen turns before the turn they meant), which meant I usually way missed it or had already been on seven reroutes or other adventures by then.  Scooter rental day #1 has been an adventure, to be sure.

Luckily, I’ve only been in a couple of scrapes (for India, that’s good) and the bike’s still running (fantastic!) so I have hope for tomorrow. I’m supposed to meet some girls tonight to go to a club.  We’ll see if I make it back in time.  Also, there’s a night market that people apparently go to which only happens one night a week.  I think I passed it, somehow on the way here.  If I pass it on the way home again (a possibility, but not a certainty), I think maybe I’ll stop.  We’ll see what happens.  It’s always an adventure with the motorbike!

This morning, I rented it (via the pool guy from the hotel, btw – Oh, India).  I’d thought, when they told me, that maybe it would be his bike, or that he had the rental business on the side, but he literally walked around the corner and bargained with that guy.  Nice.  But, it’s less than literally less than five bucks a day, plus petrol.  So maybe no need to complain.

It’s a Honda Activa (for my American friends, you can think of a Vespa), a bike without the need to shift gears, and that you don’t have to straddle, so it’s rideable in a skirt. (These are also the type of bike you see in India with an entire family riding on one bike.) Gotta love India.
And driving in India is, aside from the obvious difference of driving on the left rather than the right, very different from the US. Rules in India are still viewed more as guidelines. People use their horns more as notices of intent and as markers of one’s presence. As in, “Beep, Beep! I’m behind you!” “Beep, Beep! I’m about to pass you!” “Beep Beep! I’m about to round this curve, just fyi in case someone is around the corner.” “Beep Beep! I’m heading straight towards you in your lane, but I’m bigger and you have a shoulder you can use, so move over so I can pass this other guy!” The whole mentality is very different. I find it fascinating. And people just put their hand out while moving directly in your way, to tell you to stop, both other drivers and pedestrians. I mean, people will walk directly into traffic (you pretty much have to because in big cities you rarely find a break in traffic) and just put out a hand towards the oncoming car, just motioning for it to stop. And (usually!) it will. Sometimes you have to be a bit quick on your feet and backtrack a little… People on motor bikes do that too as they cut across the road in front of you. Others look at you as though you should be reading their mind and know where they are headed. Sometimes that’s possible, but when there are 50 other minds to read, things become a bit complex…
Having spent most of the day on the bike, I’ve gotten pretty comfortable with it now. Of course, it isn’t too helpful that my rear-view mirror won’t stay in place. I put it where I can see behind me but a few speed breakers later (or rumblers, as several in a row are called), it’s totally drooped down and I can’t see who’s coming up behind me/who’s about to hit me. Now that the sun has gone down and I get to drive home, it’s going to be a whole new world. Maybe I’ll just enjoy another moment or two at this nice, calm restaurant before I go brave the roads again… The techno music has only increased about 30 decibels now that the sun has gone down and people are starting to dance. Still, it’s quieter than the honking!

Okay, let the Activa night-rider adventure begin!

 Mar 29, 2014 @ 22:49

 

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Markets and Beaches and Bikes, oh My!

 

Driving a motorcycle in India at night is …. Wow.  It’s like driving directly into oncoming traffic on a road that they paved, but forgot to smooth (so it’s like a four-wheeling in the mountains because of all the bumps and potholes), while someone shines strobe and flashlights in your eyes and a blow-dryer into your face.  Meanwhile, cars, bikes and such are approaching and passing you from behind (honking all the while, because that’s what you do to announce your presence on a road here), and the cars coming from the other direction are crossing over (the nonexistent center line) to pass the cars in their lanes.  Each vehicle honks and honks at the other, and at the last possible second, they cross onto their own side of the road, cutting back into their lane in front of/right next to you, typically missing the oncoming car within a hair’s breadth.  It’s exciting, to say the least.  Even when you’re just a passenger in a car. Driving adds a whole new element to the mix, however.  This is how they drive during the day as well, but at night, when everyone has their brights – highbeams – on (because there are no rules here about turning them down to regular headlights when other cars are approaching), it’s a whole new story.  You also can’t see the speed breakers or potholes until you’re nearly upon them, to say nothing of people, cars, cows….

After I had dinner at the Greek restaurant, my Honda Activa and I ventured out on our night drive, and I was pretty  pleased when I found myself outside the night market again, but then I realized I would have to park my motorbike somewhere, and it was a madhouse! There were so many people and cars and bikes, with the sounds of horns and voices and music and lights flashing. Luckily, there was pretty convenient paid parking, so I maneuvered my bike into the lane they directed me to, and under the tree branch midway down the path (which was at about chest height, so super-safe) and parked between some other motorbikes.  I paid a couple bucks for the parking pass and realized I had successfully arrived at the night market!

It was quite enjoyable.  It reminded me of the exhibition they have during January in Hyderabad which is rather like a large state fair, with booths and entertainment.  This was rather international, however, with vendors from throughout India, and some global. There was a food court in the center and entertainment throughout the night.  It only happens once a week during the tourist season, and goes until 3 in the morning.  They say it’s for the foreign tourists, but I certainly saw a lot of Indian tourists there as well.  . I actually met a guy from the US named Neptune who had a booth selling mouth harps. He taught me how to play one, which was totally awesome, since I’ve had one for YEARS, and (although I thought I’d tried every possible position and angle to make that harp project sound) I hadn’t figured out how to do it right. Actually, I think my mouth harp used to belong to my grandfather from upstate New York. It’s funny that I had to travel to Goa, India to learn how to play it from someone else from the other side of the world!

Bands played throughout the night and at one point there was a fire dance. Here’s a not-so-great video link… The crowd really liked that.  There were a few rides and such, and the vendors were colorful and interesting.  I enjoyed browsing and even bought an item or two – which is fun because of the bargaining/haggling that one does with the salespeople.  I confuse a lot of them because I look Indian, but then if I speak and they realize I don’t know Hindi, they know for certain I’m foreign.  I’m not always sure if they can tell – and there is frequently a different starting price for Indians than for foreigners.  Sometimes, they’ve already quoted me a price, and have to work with that one, but it’s interesting to see where the bargaining goes.

Actually, I’ve been confusing a lot of people here.  It’s quite funny.  I enjoy messing with people too.  I like making people guess where I’m from.  I must be staying in an area of the beach where they get a lot of Northern Europeans, though, because I’ve never been asked if I’m Swedish so many times in my life!   I’m often asked if I’m from Mumbai – I think that’s where the main Bollywood film industry is located, and they must have more lax dressing standards there.  But in general, I don’t carry myself like an Indian.  Also, I wear caps (because of a head injury, I am get migraines and am light-sensitive) and make eye contact with people when passing by, both of which I don’t think are very typical of an Indian woman.  And I don’t always sound like an American, but I don’t dress like a proper Indian. But since my Dad’s Indian and I’ve spent some time here, I have some lee-way when I answer the inevitable “Where are you from?” question that is one of the first I’m usually given.  For example, some guys (usually around college age) are rather idiotic here in that they like to approach foreign women and ask to take a photo with them.  A couple of guys approached and asked where I was from.  I told them I was from Andhra Pradesh.  They were surprised, but relatively pleased ‘cause that’s the state they’re from, and said they’d thought I was foreign, and had wanted a photo.   I relented and told them I was half-American.  I let them take their pics and I walked on down the beach.  Then two more guys (who were in a group with those other two) came up behind me, calling and wanting the same thing.  Exasperated (because I was walking in the surf, looking for crabs, and rather enjoying myself), I actually asked, “Why?!?  What do you actually want the pic for?”  I’m pretty sure they’re going to go back to their home and put the pic on Facebook or something, saying “hey, look at the foreign girl I picked up in Goa.”  But clearly all 4 of them are friends, and they can’t all post pics with the same girlfriend.  Maybe they hadn’t thought that far ahead.  Also, most people are on Facebook, and when their face got tagged might be rather angry about these fools’ posts…. I didn’t point out their stupidity.  I just wanted to continue my splashing by then, since I’d been walking for a couple hours in the sun, and wanted a nice cool drink back at my hotel, which was in the direction I was ambling.  Luckily, it was far enough away that I was certain they weren’t following me anymore by the time I reached my beach area.

Of course, once I got there, I had to contend with the waiter at that restaurant who decided we’d be friends (esp since our names are similar), and introduced me to his friends (most of whom didn’t speak much English), who all hung out by my table during their downtime (and then wanted to take pics with me, of course). They were pretty funny, though as they kept reappearing at my table, getting increasingly tipsy as the evening progressed.  Silly boys…

Mar 30, 2014 @ 9:50

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 Para-Sailing

I went para-sailing today! For the first time. And it was super awesome! More details to come.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*just a note to my friends who are asking why I haven’t posted recently – I’ve been traveling around throughout India quite extensively. Most places have had no internet access at all or very spotty, slow access. I have been experiencing, photographing, and writing, but haven’t am not always able to upload the info immediately. I am hoping to get more caught up within the next week or so. I’ll put the posts in chronological order… Sorry for the delay! Some of the things that happened in the last few weeks were AWESOME! And I can’t wait to share them with you!!!

Mar 31, 2014 @ 16:20

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 Goan Wild!

 

There are four girls (and by girls, I mean ladies in their 20s or 30s like me) at my hotel who came a couple of days ago.  They are clearly on holiday.  We’ve said hello a couple of times. Their names are Jyoti, Pallavi, Aparna, Bittu.  I know they’ve also rented scooters, I think for the same time as I did.  We mentioned trying to meet up last night to go to a disco, but I went to the night market, and stayed till WAY late.  It turned out they also went to the night market.  We didn’t meet up last night, but today, we’re going to go do watersports. There are multiple sports available on the beaches, such as jet-skiing, motorboat rides, banana (inner-tube) rides, etc., but I’ve never been parasailing, so I’d like to try that.  As it turns out, so would the girls.  So we’re all going to go together….

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PARASAILING IS SUPER-FUN!!! If you haven’t tried it, you should.  Basically, it’s like riding a swing, attached to a kite, pulled by a boat.  So you float through the air over the water.  Absolutely awesome.  In India, it’s extra great, ‘cause there are fewer rules and/or restrictions.  Anywhere.

For example, the lifeguards on the beach in India (yeah, there actually are lifeguards scattered throughout the popular public beaches) mostly drive up and down the beach in a jeep, occasionally stopping by the shoreline, pulling out a megaphone, and yelling in rapid-fire Hindi at the people in the surf.  From what I can tell, they’re yelling at them to get out of the water or to come into more shallow water.  They mostly do it when the surf is higher than usual, and it’s been pretty high in general.  It’s windy most days, and the waves will be several feet high when they crest.  Yesterday, I must have either arrived at the most popular section of the beach or a giant group of friends all decided to go swimming in the exact same 100 meters of beach at the same time.  I think that actually might be what happened, but I found it absolutely hilarious.  About 40 or 50 guys, (many of them in tightie-whities, as that seems to be all some of these fellows bring to wear at the beach – which sucks for the rest of us who have to see them, as they become horribly see-through when wet) were jumping the waves as they hit.  They were having a blast.  I watched as I had a leisurely lunch of super-awesome crab legs and fresh watermelon juice at a restaurant and heard the lifeguards pause to yell at them.  For a while, it seemed like there were less people in the water, but by the time I left the restaurant and headed back to the beach, the number had multiplied again.  So I was treated to another display of Indian Lifeguarding Prowess.  I was super-shocked to see someone in Lifeguarding gear actually on foot on the beach in that general vicinity too.  I guess one or two of them hang out in busy areas, but I didn’t see him do much…

So there aren’t a whole lot of rules in general in India.  You don’t have to sign any waivers to do even dangerous sports like wave jumping on jet-skis or parasailing.  So when we got to the beach, we went to the shack and paid to go parasailing. (It cost less than $10).  First, you leave in a boat from the shore.  People push it off and then it motors out to deeper water where you transfer to the actual parasailing boat, which has the equipment on it, such as the harnesses and parachute.  While going and coming from the shore, the waves were pretty high, especially as we were returning to the shore.  There were over a dozen people on our boat and the waves were so high coming in that they completely crashed over the end of the boat, soaking everyone in.  It was almost like whitewater rafting!  We were soaked!   After we transferred to the second boat, we were put into harnesses (waist and legs).  Then each person was individually hooked onto the parachute and got to parasail.  It was awesome!  As I was picked up off the deck of the boat and lifted into the sky, I felt like I was in a swing, and as though I were hitching a ride on a kite.  The feeling was pretty incredible.  And the view wasn’t bad, either – I could see the ocean below and the entire shoreline opened up before me.  I waved at my new friends in the boat below who were snapping pics.  It was over far too soon.  I want to do that again.  It’s great fun.

We spent more time on the beach and then stopped for freshly squeezed sugar cane juice, which is squeezed out of sugar cane from special little machines you’ll find lining the roads thoughout the country.  Then we stopped and got pizza on the way back to the hotel.  Later, one of the girls’ fiancée, Mohit, showed up to surprise her.  We went back to a beachfront area on our bikes for dinner and walked among the shops and generally enjoyed ourselves that evening.

The next day, we spent several hours in the infinity pool at the Empire Beach Resort where we were staying.  One of the reasons we stayed so long in the pool is that I was giving a couple of them mini swim lessons.   The main reason, however (aside from the fact that it was delightfully cool, compared to the nearly 100 degree F weather) was that Pallavi has an Xperia phone.  It takes pictures and video UNDER WATER! I’m pretty sure we took pics until the battery died and our fingers turned into actual  raisins.  It was a blast!  The girls were from throughout India, but Pallavi is from the same state as my family, and if possible, maybe she and I can meet up again when I go through Andhra on my way back to Kolkata….  Also, Jyoti is a professional photographer, and she helped me take a few Silly Pics one day, which I absolutely love to do. I had a great time with those ladies.  I’m really glad I spent time with them.  They were fun and I got to super-fun stuff with them.

  Mar 31, 2014 @ 23:04

 

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Goa, Goan, Gone!

So I say goodbye to Goa.  I had so much fun here.

I was able to try new things, different things, and to relax and rest and rejuvenate.  I feel good.  Hot and sweaty (as per usual here in India), but good.  Also, I am about 3 shades darker than I was when I got here.  On my shoulders and arms.  And on my hands, it only goes to knuckles  From riding the bike, where my fingers curved around the handles, I got no sun.  So my tan only goes until the tips of my fingers, which have remained their normal color.  It almost looks like I dipped my fingertips in whitener  for a second – I find it quite humorous.  I had seen some women in India driving around with gloves on.  And I’m referring to the kind you would wear with an evening gown – all the way up to your elbows.  I thought it was super-weird and funny-looking.   I thought maybe it was for Muslim women who had their faces covered too, but then noticed it was other other women too, who were wearing western wear (*not cowboy clothes, just American-type clothes).   I couldn’t comprehend why anyone would want to wear something that would make you more HOT in the sun!  But looking at my white finger tips and my brown, brown knuckles, I guess I understand the rationale now….

I don’t know if I mentioned this before, but the last few times I’ve come to India, i wanted to come to Goa, but was basically told that Goa was “Closed”.  I wondered how an entire state could be closed.  Over the last couple of days, however, I kind of got the picture.  Goa thrives on tourism.  Itis their main industry.  From what I understand, the best times to come are November/December or March.  Basically, on April 1, they close up shop and take a couple months vacation.  (and I’m unclear if it’s only one long vacation that goes through the monsoon, or if they have one between Jan and Feb) But As April approached, I could see that the beach resorts were packing up.  They took in their lounge chairs and cleaned them, they cleaned out all the rooms at my hotel, put away all the potted plants etc.  When the heat and rains come, many of these things will be destroyed if left out.  So if someone comes to Goa during “off-season”  many of the hotels are closed for the hot time or the rainy time and many people who normally live and work there are gone on extended vacation.  There aren’t services available, such as tours and adventures and, basically, Goa is Closed!

 

So I managed to squeeze my trip in, just under the wire.  And honestly, if it were much hotter, I wouldn’t want to be here either! (It’s pretty darn humid here, too…)  It’s definitely hit 100 F on the thermometer, which doesn’t account for the “feels-like” temperature due to humidity.  But the sunsets were spectacular every night, and I didn’t get stuck in monsoon rains.  The beach was so beautiful, and I loved the attitude of the people here.  I think, because tourism is such an industry here, or perhaps because Goa didn’t join India until after the country had already been formed for some time, Goa is more laid back than most of India.  There are less strict rules, or at least different expectations in general from women and/or foreigners.  I enjoyed it, especially as I know I’ll spend more time in India and in other restrictive countries as I travel during the next year.   Also, I’m glad for the friendships I started and the memories I made.   Goa’s been good and I’m glad I’ve gone.

Apr 1, 2014 @ 12:04

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State of…Confusion or Chaos?

I’ve been in Hyderabad the last few days.  I haven’t really had time to update my blog because I’ve been busy with my family.  One would think that’s when I’d have some downtime to sit and relax a bit, but most of my family in India is concentrated in Hyderabad.  My time here is rather limited, so I’ve been trying to see a lot of people in a very little amount of time.  I’ve been staying with my cousin Prashu and his wife Clara since I arrived.  Their daughter Melissa, 7,  is my goddaughter and they now have a son Aaron, who is 2.

Tonight, though I’m staying with my cousin Indu, who has 3 kids, Vivek, Namitha, and Angel.  Angel is 4, and the other two are teens (or almost, in Namitha’s case).  Indu’s husband is out of town tonight, but I’ll see him on the 7th, which is Indu’s birthday.   Their house is absolutely beautiful and has a gorgeous view of Hyderabad.  Tomorrow, I’ll go back to Clara’s because her birthday is the 6th, and we’re going to celebrate there.  And when we’re not having birthdays, I’ll try to see other family members, run some errands, possibly see a couple of interesting things in town…?  We’ll see what happens….

My father’s family is from Andhra Pradesh.  The capital of that state is Hyderabad.  Actually, the state is about to split into two states, Andhra and Telangana.  Hyderabad will be in Telangana, as will my father’s home village, but the places where he did a lot of his schooling and where a lot of my family still lives lives, all along the east coast will still be Andhra Pradesh.  Most of the family from the rural areas of Telangana-to-be, however, has now moved to Hyd.  It’s a very busy city (twin cities, actually with Secunderabad attached), with very active IT centers – which means it’s quite possible that the “Steve” or “Dave” with the slightly sketchy American accent you’re talking to on customer service is actually “Dev” or something most Americans won’t even try to pronounce from right here in busy, bustling Hyderabad!

Although English is the language of the government here in India, and Hindi is the national language, Telugu is the state language in both Telangana and AP.  I actually know some Telugu, so I am not as completely lost here as I have been in the rest of India.  I at least have an idea of what is going on and can get from point A to point B.  I have been able to read the script as well, so it’s nice to be able to brush up on that.  Also, when people are talking about me, I know for sure, rather than just suspect it!

Last time I was here was in August of 2008, which was the monsoon season.  Not too much has changed, and simultaneously, many things are different.  There are many more flyovers (highways over the busy city roads); yet the traffic is still insane. There are many more malls now – fancier than ever before – with more and more western shops (Marks & Spencer, Adidas, Bose, Claire’s, Domino’s and Pizza Hut – frequently next door to one another – a multitude!); yet the shops with signs that have clearly never heard of spell-check are more than plentiful, to my great delight and enjoyment.   Some are just spelling errors, some are just language translation issues, or just funny in general (such as the sign for ANU’S restaurant, where the apostrophe is very small, almost negligible)!

And true-to-form for India, just beside the most extravagant elegance and riches, you will find the poorest, most derelict things you can imagine.  On streets crowded with Audis, BMWs, and luxury SUVs, mingled in among the auto-rickshaws (those yellow and black three-wheeled taxis) and the motorcycles and scooters crammed with anywhere from one to seven – I’ve seen it – people, beggars (often missing limbs or  in tattered clothing squeeze between the vehicles to knock on tinted windows and ask for alms.  The roadside is covered in garbage, dirt, urine, feces, animals and people, simultaneously seething with life and rotting with death.  Vendors hawk their wares in the stores, on the sidewalks, by the road, in the road, and people walk about doing their business, rich rubbing elbows with poor, all busy living their lives. Homes are constructed along the sidewalks, temporary homes for migrant workers who follow the construction and seasonal jobs, their cooking fires set up in the gutter amongst the rubble and trash.  Others simply sleep in any available patches of shade – every possible space is occupied.  And always, there is noise – honking horns, revving engines, ringing of temple bells, blaring of speakers, talking and yelling of people, music, laughter, birds, animals.  True, there are pockets where it is less or more, better or worse, but the chaos is pervasive and all-encompassing.  India seems to have a life of her own.

 Apr 4, 2014 @ 23:08

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Whirlwind Week in HYD

 

Right after coming to Hyderabad, my cousin’s wife Clara and I went with her kids Melissa and Aaron to the lake in the center of town where there is a very large statue of Buddha. It’s on an island in the center of the lake actually, and I’d seen it on previous trips; however, I had never taken a boat ride out on the lake. (Actually, I had been unaware that the island was even large enough to walk on, much less visit as though visiting the Statue of Liberty. The neat thing is that we went on the last boat of the day, around 9pm, so it was dark and the Buddha statue was lit up. It was really picturesque. Melissa and I had fun “picking up” Buddha.

My cousin Prashu is a real estate developer here in Hyderabad. He’s working on a project called Jayanthi Residency right now. They just started breaking ground this week. We went to the site to have a look. When I was here in 2008, we went to see one of his first projects, Shantha Residency (Shantha was our grandmother’s name as well, and Prashu is actually short for Prashanth).

It’s interesting here in India because my name is quite a bit more common than it is in the US. In fact, I find I have to stop myself from turning around a lot because I’ll hear my name called and realize it’s not me, but another Shantha someone is talking to!
Prashu also took me to visit his father’s gravesite. His father, my dad’s older brother, passed away just over a year ago, and had been the Uncle I lived with in the village when I stayed in India as a child. His tombstone is quite nice, with a picture engraved on it, and the graveyard is right next door to Melissa’s school, so it’s quite convenient to visit and very picturesque. I also saw some other family members’ graves who had been buried there. Although this isn’t the ancestral village, where my grandparents and others are buried, it’s nice to see some of the family still together in one area. I’m not sure why that matters to me. I do believe it’s good to honor our ancestors and remember the past.
I’ve gotten a few things accomplished, business-wise here in town: fixed my SIM card, picked up a few items from the store, that sort of thing. I’ve also seen a lot of malls – more than I’d have liked, I fear. For one thing, malls in India are air conditioned. Also, there are movie theatres in them and usually arcades/game zones for kids to play and many of my cousins’ kids like going for the play zones. But my family keeps taking me to malls because they want to buy presents for me. Please don’t misunderstand, I am very lucky in that my family wants to give me gifts. Unfortunately I simply don’t have space in my suitcase for a whole bunch of stuff. I must say I am happy that my family at least takes me to the store now and lets me pick what I like, though. It used to be that they would pick something out and it would be a color or pattern that I did not like (at all) and usually didn’t fit. Now, we go and I am able to select something I like, at least. I feel very ungrateful, arguing with my generous family all the time not to get stuff for me, but I don’t really need anything! Nonetheless, I’ve picked up a couple of extra tops than I had before I left home. One cousin wised up and gave me a necklace set. Small, portable, lightweight – brilliant!

I’ve spent the rest of my time here in HYD running around from family member to family member, trying to see and spend time with many. Sunday was Clara’s birthday. Saturday night, she and I went out dancing without the hubby and kids. We had a great time – it was something we’d never done together! On Sunday, after church, everyone came over to her house for a meal and prayer. Her mom Grace and sister Beulah even came to town from the other side of the state, which was great! I really enjoy both of them.

Monday was Indu’s birthday, and everyone gathered at her house for dinner and prayer. Her hubby Venkat was back in town, so I got to see him, and it was an enjoyable evening. I stayed late a bit and my cousin Ajay gave me a ride home in his big SUV, which he was awesome enough to let me drive back that night! It was super fun, and reminded me a lot of my Durango that I sold (oh, Elwyn!) just before I left. Way cool.

The next day, I had made plans to visit my god-sister Mammu and her family. Luckily, it was a holiday, so she had the day off from school, where she is a lecturer. Her parents were my godparents. Her mom Raji passed away quite some time ago, but her father Roosie passed away in November of 2010, so this was the first time I’d seen her since then. I’ve been missing my Uncle R a lot. I’ve seen a couple of people here that reminded me of him quite vividly since I’ve come to India already. Last when I came in 2008, I visited him in Guntur, where he lived. He brought custard apples home to Sherry and Kenny (Mammu’s kids) and I – a fruit I’d never had before! We had a great time.

At Mammu and Armstrong’s house on Tuesday, I was able to have lunch with the whole family. I also got to speak on the phone with her brother Lullu, who is living on the other side of the state, running the rural Sunday School program my godparents set up. I hung out with the family in the afternoon and then took a train with them back into the center of town (they live on the outskirts of HYD) and met back up with Clara, her cousin John, and the kids at a park called NGT gardens. It’s an amusement park where Melissa was very excited to go because we could get Mehendhi (henna) on our hands, which I had promised to do with her. I was super excited to take the commuter train with Mammu et al. because I enjoy riding trains, and Aaron was super excited in NTR gardens because there is a toy train that rides around the park, so he got to ride a train too (we all did).

The next day, I was able to meet up with Lizzie (Chinni) and her husband in the morning. Chinni’s mom Sadhu is my first cousin and her sister lives in the US with her husband and three kids, but I hadn’t seen Chinni since 2008. Unfortunately, her two girls were in school and I missed seeing them. After brunch (the best dosa I’ve had in India!), Lizzie’s husband gave me a ride to Ajju’s work in the tech center of Hyderabad.

Ajju is in charge of all of the restaurants and food service for an entire IT park with something like 9 restaurants and huge cafeterias. He showed me around and I was amazed and the number of places he had and the types of food they provided. There were cafeterias, sports bars, lounges, all kinds. It was pretty cool.

Then, we met up with his wife Suma and their two kids Achala and Akhil for lunch. The place we went, on a nearby campus was quite cool. It was set up like an old village. It had dining areas like old shops – a cloth shop, a tailor, a general merchandise store etc. And a buffet with so many types of food. There were a couple of auto-rickshaws (the bigger ones) that had been hollowed out with tables inside. Akhil loved that we sat in one of those – and we got to since Ajju is the guy to impress! It was really enjoyable.
Then we met Clara and kids at the mall and we ladies shopped while the kids played at the arcade. Ajay joined us again after work and we had pizza. All in all, a long but successful day. I leave in the morning to go across the state to Rajahmundry by train…details to come!

 

 Apr 9, 2014 @ 23:03

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To Pee or not to Pee…

Peeing in India can be…challenging.  If you are a boy, this is not the case.  You can find any street or building-side – really, any corner or bush will do.  No one will blink an eye.  A girl, however faces a few more hurdles.  Assuming she can find a toilet, a girl is very fortunate if she finds a western commode (this means that it has the traditional throne shape with a seat sticking up from the ground).  If she is also very, very optimistic, she may hope that there will be toilet paper.  While there is the occasional pleasant surprise, this is very rare.  My sister and I find that the bra is an excellent storage space for a little spare TP (thanks, Mom! You taught us well).  I have found western toilets more common lately, especially in the larger cities.  However, if you are in an older building, a village, a train, (it can happen anywhere, really), you may find yourself in a stall facing a hole in the floor, probably lightbulb shaped.  You may find moonboot shaped places for your feet.  Directions:  Place feet on moonboots.  Arrange clothing.  Squat.  Good luck!

Now, when you are on a moving train, this whole situation becomes infinitely more complicated!  It is frowned upon to use the toilet when the train is at the station, so you go when the train is in motion.  Typically, you lurch into the bathroom, which is generally disgusting and covered in water (remember the lack of toilet paper?  There is a small pitcher with water to make up for that absence…) but that water splashes and spills everywhere.

Light and wind tunnel..?

Trying to balance on the moonboots, holding your clothing so it doesn’t fall to the ground, swaying back and forth, you look down and realize the hole below you reveals…the railroad ties below speeding quickly past!  There is nothing between your currently vulnerable ass and the track flying by only a few feet away.  Don’t drop anything you don’t want to lose forever!  And don’t ever pick up anything off the railroad tracks when you are walking by….

And one word of advice: if you’re on a long train ride, it’s definitely better to go earlier on in the trip.  The bathroom definitely won’t get any cleaner as the journey goes on.

Apr 10, 2014 @ 23:52

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HOT, HOT, HOT!!!

Rajahmundry is hot.  And humid.  Everyone on my trip so far has been asking how I’ve been bearing the heat.  In Goa (and Hyderabad and Bangalore) everyone said, “It’s so hot!  How can you manage?”  I said that it was hot in Kolkata, and hot in Goa and humid in both places.  I’ve been okay.  In some ways, after the cold of the Colorado winter I just left, this has been a nice change.  Those first few days I was in Kolkata it got up to about 38 degrees C, which is near 100 Fahrenheit.  But here in Rajahmundry, with the humidity and all, it feels about 15 degrees (or more) hotter!  I don’t know how hot it really is.  I just know that I don’t love these rules about clothing they have here in India.  And being in the villages now I should be even more careful that I don’t show too much leg or (gasp!) a bra strap.  Sorry folks, but that’s probably going to happen.  It’s too hot not to wear sleeveless.  And those straps keep slipping.  I’m sweaty, gross, and slippery.  Those scarves we wear with our salwar top (the chunnis) sure come in handy when you’re dripping.  It’s really disgusting, though.  I literally ran out of the deodorant I brought on this trip around India and had to go to the store with my second cousin Moses to get more.  But enough complaining about the heat.

  Apr 12, 2014 @ 23:52

 

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Rajahmundry..

I’m staying with my dad’s cousin Deborah Sunitha and her husband Pratap here in Rajahmundry.  Pratap is a bishop now and he and Sunitha have a very large mission program, school, and orphanage they run, based out of Rajahmundry.  Moses, their son, just finished his masters and is looking for a position, possibly abroad, so he was around during my visit, which was cool.  He’s near my sister Jayanthi’s age, so we got along well.

Although I had visited the orphanage and school in the past (maybe 10 years ago?) I hadn’t had a chance to see the changes they’ve been making in recent years – and there have been many!  They finished building the housing at the girls home.  They are expanding their programs at the school.  Another big project is their work in starting dedicated vocational training for girls and women. This is of great interest to me, as I am passionate about women’s issues and gender equality.

Unfortunately, India has a big problem with human trafficking.  Many factors play a role, but because of society’s view of women, the remnants of the dowry system, neglect of girls’ education, etc. etc.,  girls in villages and tribal areas are at a much higher risk of being trafficked.  The program my cousins are implementing at their school for lower income children and orphans opens a way for girls to learn a vocation (such as sewing or typing).  This way, when they finish school, they are employable and able to earn a wage, and therefore more valuable (and less likely to become victims of sex trade or trafficking).

The morning after I arrived in Rajahmundry, Sunitha took me to the school they run, where she is basically the principal.  After showing me her office and the records books for the school, she took me around to see some of the classrooms.  They have kids from lower kindergarten all the way through 10^th class.  In addition to the regular classes, they have a small computer lab in the school with half a dozen or so computers.  When we got there, we found a group of the older boys working on the computers, learning their way around some of the basic programs.  Many children in this class do not have computer access in school at all.  This program is wonderful – for children to have computer skills these days is a vital asset in acquiring a decent job.

Also, there is a program at the school to teach sewing and tailoring skills.  This program is not only for the schoolchildren.  Local women are able to enroll as well.   The ladies learn machine work as well as hand stitching, embroidery, cross-stitch, etc.  They make bags and blouses and all sorts of items to practice so that they are able to acquire jobs in tailor shops or take in mending jobs.  Although some of the classroom had been disrupted and moved around due to final exams that week, I was able to see some of the girls’ projects and they gifted me with a lovely drawstring handbag.  The beautiful girl in the picture holding the bag is the one who actually made it!  And the lady to her right is the instructor.

After I had been given a full tour of the school, all of the students assembled in the schoolyard where they had a full presentation they had prepared for me, complete with singing and dancing! I was quite surprised and very touched.  They even presented me with a garland of flowers (an Indian tradition, similar to getting a lei in Hawaii).

After Sunitha talked for a moment to the children, she asked me to tell them a bit about myself.  (Luckily, she had warned me this was coming!)  I told them a little bit about myself and my home, and what I was doing in India while Sunitha translated.

After returning to the house for lunch and a bit of a rest during the hottest part of the day, Sunitha took me to the girl’s residential home.  When I last came to Rajahmundry, these homes were still being built, but the full complex was finished now.  When we arrived, the girls had gathered in the yard.  I recognized many of them from that morning at the school.  There are six houses arranged around a compound.  Each one has a house mother and girls of various ages in it.  I was taken (literally taken by the hand and bodily led) into a couple of the houses for a tour by a gaggle of girls.  The walls in each house were decorated with hand drawn pictures that different girls in the houses had drawn, and little else. There was a small table and bible in the entrance to each house. At the back of the homes were toilets and showers. The girls were all so eager and proud to show me their home and belongings. I felt humbled and saddened to think how happy and lucky they felt to have so little. They showed me their beds (bunk beds that most of us in the US would consider substandard summer camp cots) and their cupboards with their belongings (each girl had a shelf that was perhaps 2 foot squared.  In addition to the clothing she was currently wearing, most of the girls had two or three other items of clothing at most.  The house mother had a few shelves for her belongings in her area, but those were also pitifully bare.

Flowers and some vegetables (eggplant, my favorite!) grew in small gardens between the homes.  In the center of the yard was a tree with a big fruit I did not recognize.  Sunitha told me it was a jackfruit.  The fruit was only just beginning to grow, apparently.  I didn’t understand how the thing doesn’t fall out of the tree and hit someone on the head, and I was assured that that never happens (If it’s going to happen to anyone, it would be just my luck…)

Just as we were leaving the compound, Sunitha was also pointing out some of the other vegetation and showed me a cashew tree.  In Goa, they make an alcohol called Feni, from the Cashew nut or fruit.  I tried it while I was there.  Apparently it tastes bad, but I had mine mixed with sugar cane juice and pineapple juice, so it tasted pretty good to me!  I have a memory, though of someone telling a story about picking cashews and that you had to pick them with gloves on because something about them was poisonous to your skin (i.e. you’d break out into a rash or something).  She pointed out the fruit to me.  The nut grows at the bottom of the fruit.  Apparently, when you separate the two, some liquid comes out and it is, in fact, unkind to your skin.  She also told me that the fruit is bitter tasting and makes you cough and have a sore throat…

I was curious and wanted to try one.  One of the gatemen picked a couple for me to take home to try.  We’ll see how I feel about it once the poisonous milk comes out.

 

 

 

Apr 13, 2014 @ 22:48

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Rajahmundry …compare and contrast

In the evening after I had gone to see the kids at the school and the orphanage, my cousin Moses and I went over to see the building site our cousin’s husband Venkat is developing.  He owns a construction company and had mentioned I should come by and see it, as it was near the train station.  I got in late the first night, and so tried to go over to see him before he headed back to Hyderabad, where he normally lives with my cousin Indu and their kids.  Still, India being what it is, we didn’t arrive til twilight.

Nonetheless, we were able to look around the site and see the model of what they’re working on.  I was shocked to see the sheer scale and magnitude of the project!  It’s not so much a building as it is a complex!  And it’ll be a luxury one, at that, with a clubhouse, greenery and open space in the center, squash courts, etc.  We went up to the roof of one of the six buildings to see the view over the train station and over to the Godavari river.  It was spectacular.

With the split of the state of Andhra Pradesh, there should be some growth in the eastern part of the state in the next decade, as the new state decides where its new capital and centers of commerce and government will be.  Rajahmundry has been growing lately, and looks to do so in the future.  It was very interesting to see the growth occurring in India, and also great to see the growth of my cousin Venkat’s business.  Last time I was here, he was mainly working on a single building at a time, but this site shows how his business has grown!  It will be fascinating to see the new developments over time.

I’ll be swinging by Vishakapatnam on my way back to Kolkata.  Also called Vizag, this town is right on the ocean and is probably in the running for capital of the new state as well.  My other cousin Prashu has another building site with his construction company just outside of Vizag that I’ll go to see too.  It’s great to see my family doing so well, building their lives!  I don’t think we could have imagined any of this when we were together as kids, playing in the village during my family’s visits to India.

When I came to India during my childhood, I remember sharing one bicycle between all of the cousins as we took turns riding around the compound.  We played endless games of Uno – my cousin’s kids now could play video games endlessly.    We used to have power cuts, where the electrical current would go out unexpectedly, for who knows how long.  Now, all across India, it seems, there are power cuts.  Here in Andhra, the current goes off for two hours each morning, each afternoon, and each night – six hours a day, no power!  (And no A/C here in hot Rajahmundry!)  Now, many of my relatives have at least one car, and most of my cousins kids – boys and girls – assume they will learn how to drive.   Then, we could count the number of cars in the village on one hand!  India has changed a lot since then, but much still remains the same.   During this time of election campaigns and promises for a better future, I wonder what will happen in the years ahead…

 Apr 13, 2014 @ 23:22

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Rajahmundry…continued

The day after visiting the orphanage and school, my cousin Pratap took me into the jungle to see one of the village churches.  This is a ministry he and Sunitha have been working on for years.  They now have 20 churches.  What I didn’t realize, nonetheless, is how extensive the program is.  I peppered him with questions most of the drive and was astounded at what I learned that day.

India has a very complex caste system.  Although many will try to tell you that it is not in use any more this is simply not true.  When Sunitha showed me the roster at the school, I was puzzled about one of the rows of entries and asked about it.  The intials in each row stood for the child’s caste!  Apparently the Indian government keeps strict tabs on this information.  It matters for things like scholarships (there are quotas) and rations, and religion.  Tribal people have certain rights on their land.  In India you are not allowed to take or use even a twig or leaf from tribal land unless you are a card-carrying member of the tribe.  (It seems you actually get a card.) This entitles you to use the land, sell crops or firewood, or get rations etc.  There are even quotas for spots in the universities. Interestingly enough, if someone converts to Christianity, those rights are revoked.  They are no longer eligible for food or scholarships etc.  Apparently many people convert in actuality but don’t “actually convert” on paper for this reason.  There are also many many other castes and hierarchies within and between them.  When Sunitha briefy outlined this to me that morning at the school, it was the clearest, most concise and yet thorough explanation I’d ever had of the caste system.  (I’m sure I’m getting only a tip of the iceberg and missing many salient points, so forgive me for what I missed.  Again, this is only my rudimentary knowledge!)  I was very thrilled to have this information, however, and fascinated to see it actually in play in the school roster and as I was traveling onto the tribal lands that next day.

Anyway, we drove out of Rajahmundry for over an hour into the jungle/mountains onto tribal land.  It is quite beautiful, but the area is rural and undeveloped.  One part of the program Pratap and Sunitha have developed is that a roving medical team goes between the 20 churches.  It helps ensure that everyone has vaccinations and also distributes antibiotics or other medications when necessary and other basic medical care.  I was, of course, thrilled to hear about this.  Many of these underdeveloped areas suffer from medical problems that can be fixed with vaccines and simple antibiotics.

Also, my cousin told more about their program.  In each village there is a church that gets set up, built by the people, and eventually sustained by the locals.  Usually there is an evangelist and also a sort of supervisor who I believe oversees a larger area.  But frequently the evangelist is a local person, more or less.  The evangelist lives in the village full time where there are very few commodities – the villages are extremely isolated.  It is more frequent that someone who is local is both willing to live there and accepted by the people in the town.  I guess it didn’t occur to me to think about whether or not that person would have a family, but when we got to the village, we met the evangelist and his wife and children.  I found out that typically the wife runs a school from their house, located next to the church.  Each day the children from the town are able to come and get a good meal and education! It’s great to see how they are caring for the next generation and providing for so many basic needs.

So, the village had known that we were coming ahead of time.  This is pretty typical, I believe, because whenever Pratap comes, they will usually have a service.  (I guess it’s always Sunday wherever he goes!)  When we arrived, the children had all assembled at the gateway to the church with garlands and wildflowers.  It was wild.  ( I felt a little like Olivia Wilde in the Half the Sky documentary, but I don’t believe anyone sang an actual Vagina Song for me…)

I was introduced to the supervisor, evangelist, and his wife and then we went into the church for the service.  All of the kids sat in the front, which was fun to see and they sang songs during the service.  Pratap gave his sermon, and then asked me to speak. I didn’t have anything prepared, but I started my super-short talk by saying a couple sentences in Telugu (Hi, my name is Shantha.  Sorry, I only know a little Telugu…)  After that, Pratap had to translate for me, but on the way home he said that it was good enough that most people could understand my Telugu and I didn’t have too much of an accent – compared to the Germans and other Americans who came and tried a few Telugu sentences, that is!

After the service, Pratap produced a bag of candy and asked me to hand it out to the children, which was fun, if a bit chaotic!  Then, they asked us to stay for a ground-breaking.  I guess the home on the church property (kind of in the front yard, really) where the evangelist and his family stay is not really holding up very well.

It’s old and falling apart.  (The church was built recently by the parishoners themselves.) So now, in the area behind the house, next to the church, they’re going to build a new house for them.  It will also be used as the school, as I mentioned.  Since Pratap has many churches to visit, he can only come infrequently and the people wanted to have the official groundbreaking while he was there so they wouldn’t need to postpone beginning the building when they were ready.

So everyone went to the back of the house, by the church and gathered, as the sun went down for the ground-breaking ceremony.  Pratap asked me if I would do the actual ground-breaking.  I said okay, but was a bit stymied when they gave me not a shovel, but a metal spike.  When it came time, I awkwardly pushed/twisted it into the ground and pushed up a little clod of dirt.  Then someone mimed/told me that I should throw the spike into the ground and then it would go in further and break.  So I hurled it at the ground like a spear!  It broke through and when I levered it down, a nice chunk of dirt came up.  Ground-breaking accomplished!

On the way home, I was able to ask tons more questions of Pratap and found out about an amazing program Sunitha is involved with to help local women.  It’s a group of local women, including lawyers and policewomen, and businesswomen etc. who are available for women to come to when they need assistance they can’t get elsewhere.  These women try to mediate the situations, preferably confidentially and without involving any sort of legal or judicial force if possible.  But women who have been abandoned, or are in abusive relationships can come to them.  Young women who are pregnant out of wedlock or  in financial straits can come.  This group is all local and their time is donated.  My cousin is an amazing woman – she was requested especially to join this group!  She does this on top of everything else they already do!

I was very sorry to leave Rajahmundry, because there is so much they are doing there and I am interested in many of their projects.  When I return to India, I’d like to see more of what they do.  It turns out this is Holy Week, however, which is a very busy week for a pastor, so I was very appreciative that they took so much time from their schedules to show me around!

I was happy also to visit my second cousin Swaroop and his wife Anita.  They have a new little boy, Joel, who is 10 months old and one of the cutest kids ever!  He’s named after Swaroop’s late brother, who is sorely missed by all.  I saw their parents, Willimama and Shyamalatha in Hyderabad, and both they and Swaroop have come to the US to visit, so it was nice to be able to see Swaroop’s new home and beautiful new son here in India.   I’ll be going on an overnight train to Kolkata via Vizag/Vishakapatnam next…

 

Apr 14, 2014 @ 22:46

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Vizag, City by the (other) Sea

Vishakapatnam is located in Andhra Pradesh, on the shores of the Indian Ocean.  While beautiful, this shore in Andhra is not quite as beautiful as the Arabian Seashore in Goa.  It’s touristy, but more for Indian tourists, rather than foreigners.  It is therefore, filled with trash.  Also, (and I assume tides etc are to blame for this) there is a lot more junk washing up onto the shoreline, not just trash, but kelp, seaweed, etc.  When walking on this beach, one wishes to go home and bathe. It’s not exactly the place you want to go and take a refreshing sea dip.  (And being more of an Indian-style town, people would be horrified if you stripped down to a swimsuit anyways…)

Nonetheless, the views from the cliffs of Vizag are spectacular and the seafood is amazing!  I took the early morning train from Rajahmundry to Vizag and met with my cousin Prashu and his man of business, Ashok.  I would be taking the night train to Kolkata that evening, but this would give me a chance to see Prashu once more and to visit his building site just outside of Vizag.

This one is named after my goddaughter, Amulya Melissa.  The Amulya Residency is in the construction phase and we went up to the roof of the building and looked around.

After seeing that site, as well as another plot Prashu bought for future development, we went to have lunch at a restaurant right near the seashore.  It’s a small little shack, but it’s really famous for their shrimp curry.

 

 

 

 

Prashu, Ashok, and their friends also took me to some places around the area, such as as the site of the ruins of an old Buddhist monastery and some spectacular viewpoints from the cliffs that overlook the sea.

In the evening, I got on the train which would be an overnighter to Kolkata.  I was looking forward to this because I love to sleep on trains.  There is something very soothing about the motion of the train travelling on the rails that rocks me to sleep.  It makes me happy…even just hearing the sound of trains since childhood has reminded me of this feeling.  It’s great.

On this trip, I was sitting in a compartment across from a family who was headed to Kolkata, on their way back from a family member’s wedding in Andhra.  They were very thrilled to find out that I spoke some Telugu (the mom, in particular, as she didn’t speak any English).  Only the son, who just finished his high school spoke relatively fluent English.  They were very happy to ask me every detail about my life (Indians consider this conversation, more than an invasion of privacy).  So, much of the train ride was taken up with awkward, basic-vocabulary conversation or sleep.   I had a window seat, though, and took a few pics through the window of the scenery as we went by, which I had wanted to do.  I had a great time, overall, and arrived back in Kolkata the next midday.  I had booked a hotel and headed there via taxi, my South India tour finished.

 Apr 15, 2014 @ 2:27

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Travel Inn (or, Back in Kolkata Again)

Back in Kolkata, I had reserved rooms at a place called Travel Inn.  I decided to stay a little closer to the area of town where I had stayed when I lived here in 1998.  I’ll only be in Kolkata this week for a couple of days before my sister and her friend Alec and I leave town again to travel in the northeast of India, but I figure it’ll be nice to have my base in a different part of town than last month.

What I didn’t realize when I booked the hotel is that it is literally 3 blocks away from my father’s old theological seminary.  Bishop’s College is where he did his master’s in divinity, back in the late 1960s, before becoming a priest.  I knew I would be near it, but not quite so close!  So I had the chance to go over to Bishop’s college and walk around Dad’s old seminary.

That was enjoyable, as it is very calm and I had been there before, both with my father in 1993 when we visited as a family and again in 1998 when I was in Kolkata.  I enjoyed wandering around and also getting tea across the street. The first night I had arrived back in town, I actually decided to walk towards Park Street and Suder Street.  These two streets are in/near an area of Kolkata called Newmarket.  They are relatively touristy and a lot of foreigners can be found there.  When I was younger, I spent some time there, as I was able to walk there from the church guesthouse/B&B where I had been staying.  I would often meet my friends there after we spent the mornings volunteering at the different homes for the Missionaries of Charity.  I have a lot of memories of that part of town. So, after checking into the Travel Inn, I headed out to walk towards Park Street.  Although I remember a lot of things from my time here, for some reason I had my “mental map” of Kolkata turned around.  I’m having difficulty reorienting myself here in town.  Also, for some reason, although I am able to get my phone and messaging to work, I can’t seem to get my data to work, so when I am out and about, I don’t have access to convenient things like Google Maps.  So I get to do a bit of wandering/meandering, when I go places, regardless of whether or not I intended to….  And I feel a bit lost because of the language barrier.  When I was in Andhra Pradesh, at least I could get from one point to another, and I felt like I could communicate my basic needs to people.  Here in Kolkata, I don’t really have that. And I forgot how overwhelming Kolkata is. Simply crossing the street can be a complete challenge.  I find am a bit surprised at my former self.  How did I manage?  Was I crazy, living here when I was twenty, or did I just have no idea what I was doing at all?  I am not entirely sure what was going through my head then (if anything)! I found myself wondering if I have become less capable now than I had been then, or if have just lost my confidence.  I find I am hesitant to go places and talk to people.  It’s a bit terrifying to do things when you don’t know the language and don’t know if you’ll be able to get somewhere or whether or not you’ll be able to get back, much less whether or not you’ll be able to find help if you can’t.  And perhaps I just know a little more now than I used to about all the things that can go wrong, all the horror stories.  Perhaps I’m too self-conscious.  I feel like people are looking at me and know that I am foreign and out-of-place.  I worry that I am a target because I’m different.  And at the same time I tell myself I should just calm down and everyone is looking at everyone and I’m no different, and there are plenty of other women, for example, who are walking alone.

After I stopped for some coffee, near Park Street, I eventually found myself in more familiar streets. I went along a street called Short Street and recognized a part of the road where the street zigzags.  I was vividly recalled back to how things used to be.  Interestingly, not much has changed.  There are still shops along the road where men sit inside amongst their wares: cigarettes, shampoo, candy bars.  These days, you find less shops selling CDs and more little shops selling iPhone covers, but the overall effect is the same.  I noticed, however, that the streets seem even fuller than before.  It used to be that there would be many men pulling rickshaws running through the streets, and some motorcycles, with the occasional car.  Now, it’s the opposite. Only rarely do you see a rickshaw wallah and the road is congested with cars and motorcycles honking.  Add more people as population increases, and you have streets that have become even more difficult to navigate, because of the sheer volume of humanity trying to fit onto them.

It’s interesting in these areas, though, because there used to be more people living on the streets here and many of them seem to have been pushed out of this area, because there simply isn’t space.  Now they are in the next neighborhood over, or in the next slum out, it seems.  Don’t get me wrong, there are still families cooking their dinner on the sidewalk, and children napping in the afternoon under a patch of shade.  At night, there are rows of people seeping along the sidewalk:  immigrants from the countryside or day-workers and commuters who won’t go back to their villages during the week or season when they find work.  Or the beggars who live there permanently.  There are even classes among the street folk, complex and as intricate as India herself.

When I got to the Newmarket area of town, I was able to locate Suder Street and once there, I found the Fairlawn Hotel fairly easily.  The Fairlawn is a relatively famous hotel in Kolkata, especially with foreigners.  It has a rather nice beer garden and has been used in several films, including the City of Joy (a pretty good movie from the 1990s with Patrick Swayze playing a doctor who quits his practice and comes to Calcutta where he ends up meeting a rickshaw wallah and his family who live in the slums).  Actually, I remember the first time I saw the movie, I was stunned to see them walking out of one of his hotel because I recognized it as the place where I spent time with my friends when I lived in Kolkata.  It was our regular hangout bar.

When I returned to the Fairlawn, it was unchanged.  I was pleased and a bit nostalgic to see it after 16 years.  It was busy and full, lit with a bunch of twinkling holiday lights from the greenery on trellises above the tables.  I managed to find a spot at a large table in the corner, where other people were already sitting, but not using the whole table.  I don’t really drink carbonation, but I ordered my favorite Indian beer, Kingfisher –Kingfisher Strong, actually – and settled in to people-watch and reminisce.

After a while, I somehow joined in the conversation with a pair of people who were sitting at the end of my table.  Before long, we were chatting like friends.  Their names are Neel and Sweetie and they have been friends for a while.  Neel has been going to Goa relatively frequently for a while now and enjoys traveling.  Both are, I believe, Kolkata natives.  We enjoyed our chat and Sweetie and I exchanged numbers.  Neel mentioned that he comes to the Fairlawn almost every night when he is in town.  He said something to the effect of, “If we’re mean to be friends, we’ll meet again, and we can exchange numbers and info then.”  I kind of liked that.  I was happy to have had a great experience at the Fairlawn again and walked back to my hotel.

But as I walk home from dinner on Park Street, and realize I’ve gotten lost and am not entirely sure where my hotel is, I have to talk myself down from panic.  I feel like a duck on the water, trying to project calm and confidence as I walk down the street so no one will know I have no idea where I am or where I’m headed, while under the surface I’m paddling and panicking!   But after a couple of circles and backtracks (all the streets have multiple names and sometimes the signs on the shops are the name of the biggest near street, rather than the one you’re actually on, so that’s not exactly super helpful), I manage to find my way back to Travel Inn.

  Apr 16, 2014 @ 21:48

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 Adventure awaits…Northeast, Here We Come!

After a couple of days in Kolkata, I got onto another overnight train, headed for Guwahati.  Jayanthi and Alec had been out of town when I returned to Kolkata and both returned from their travels ill.  They weren’t quite up to the difficulties of a full day on a train, so they changed their tickets to fly into Guwahati the next day.  I, however, had worked rather hard to get that train ticket reservation, and it was far less expensive than flying.  Plus, I wanted to see the countryside as I traveled by, when possible, and I had a ticket to fly back to Kolkata with Alec after a week.  So the two of them were going to meet me the next day in Guwahati, which is a town, basically on the border between the northeastern states of Meghalaya and Assam in India.  In order to get to those states by train, I would have to go north in Bengal, almost to Darjeeling and then around Bangladesh, before coming back down in that part of the country.  This part of India is a bit different from the rest, as it is so isolated.  This train ride would be more than 24 hours long and there definitely weren’t people near me who spoke my language. The train ride itself was interesting, though.  I was in the 3^rd class AC compartment, which means that for the night time, the back of the seats comes up to make a second, middle bunk and there is a third bunk suspended from the ceiling at about eye height.  Along the corridor of the train are double bunks, the top one being a little lower and immobile, and the lower bunk is formed when the back of the two seats by the windows lower and meet.   I had the upper 3^rd bunk on this trip.  Often that’s nice, because you can go up whenever you want and get a bit of privacy, stretch out, etc.  But it can get a bit cramped, as you can’t sit straight up on the bunk since it’s so close to the ceiling.  After the train left in the evening, I stayed down with the other people, and ate some dinner I had brought, and watched the interactions of people around me.  There was a couple with a little girl were on the side seatset.  So the baby provided us all with some entertainment (and then some screams during the night!) and I listened to an audiobook that I love – Bossypants, by Tina Fey.  I’ve mentioned before that during train rides vendors come up and down the aisles selling their products – food, tea and coffee, toiletries, toys, all sorts of things.  Sometimes beggars come and sing, it’s kind of a free-for-all.  At one point in the evening, a man came through selling a north Indian snack.  It’s made by combining a bunch of little things, such a dried lentils and puffed rice.  Usually it’s all mixed together and then served in a piece of newspaper rolled into a cone-shape.  Nothing super special, usually… this guy, however, was a riot.  As he came through the train car, you could hear his approach from a couple of compartments away because he was singing.  (Of course, this all happened in another language, but the main idea was clear.)  He sang about his goods and that everyone should try them.  As he came to each compartment, he would set down his big basket of goods and proceed to give out small samples to people, singing about it.  It was great!  Most people took the samples, and many people bought from him.  It was brilliant, and he probably sold more than anyone else who just went up and down the corridors yelling about what they had and occasionally waving it in anyone’s face who accidentally made eye contact with them.… After the guy moved on to the next compartment, everyone in my area was still chuckling and as he began his routine in the next section, people were still laughing as we could hear him goofing off on his merry way.  It was a great break from the monotony of train travel.

After arriving in Guwahati the next day, Jayanthi and Alec met me at the train station and we stopped on the way back to the hotel to get some daab.  I believe I mentioned that they are addicted to coconut water (daab).  I have never been a fan of coconut (and that’s putting it mildly), but on this trip to India, I find I am able to enjoy the water from time to time.  It’s interesting, because the flavor of each individual fruit is a bit different.  Some are sweet, some a bit more tart or tangy.  We always ask for the “Mishti Daab,” which means Sweet Daab.  Of course, it is always a crap-shoot.  You never know what it’ll be like until you take that first sip.  Daab wallahs are an interesting bunch too.  They usually have a spot by the side of the road where the sit with a giant machete or scythe of some sort and chop off the top of the coconut for you so that it opens just enough to put a straw in, without losing the water.  Some of them are quite skillful at it, and literally open the green outside and brown husk underneath so there is just the thin skin of coconut over the water, which you can poke the straw through, not even losing a drop of water!  Afterwards, if you want, they’ll open it completely so you can eat the coconut meat.  Most people don’t do that – I never do that.  Jayanthi and Alec extol the virtues of daab ad nausem, but it’s very true that it has a great ability to rehydrate and restore electrolytes.  I may be a convert before the trip is over….

The hotel we stayed at in Guwahati had a rooftop with a magnificent view and we enjoyed that greatly.  The next morning, we had arranged for a driver to take us to Shillong, in Meghalaya.  It’s about half the distance to the village where we were going to go to see the living bridges.  Now, I’m not sure how much of the following was an actual language issue or how much of it was just that the driver was an asshole…. But he clearly had been given instructions from his boss to take us directly to Shillong, and to stop for lunch along the way.  Period.  We had been asking if we could see a few of the sights along the way.  We were happy to pay a little more for that, but this guy wasn’t even willing to stop on the way out of town for daab! (the horror!!!)  He stopped once or twice along the way – when we made him – at a couple of viewpoints.  He took us to a restaurant for lunch, and I’m pretty sure it was owned by the people or friends of the ones who owned the driving company.  Then, when we got to Shillong, he unceremoniously dumped us in the center of town – literally stopped the car right on the side of a roundabout, took out our things, and drove off!  But we were pretty glad to see him go.   Perhaps we should have been tipped off by the fact that his car was labelled TourTST Permit, rather than TourIST permit.  We should’ve known the company wasn’t any good!  Oh, India!

We got a taxi relatively easily, but weren’t sure if the new driver completely understood where we were trying to go.  My sister had made reservations for us at a homestay in Shillong.  The home was a place called the Hill-Top Chateau, and we had the address, but that’s all.  We showed the taxi driver, and he started driving us around.  Shillong is in the hills, and he kept going up.  Since the place was called Hill-Top and was supposed to have a good view, we figured he was going in the right direction, but we went for quite a while, pretty far out from the center of town. We drove along, listening to the guy’s loud, loud techno beats, American, and English pop music.  The streets wound back and forth up a mountain and in and out of little populated areas and just when I was starting to get really worried, we saw a small sign for the Hilltop Chateau! And it was LOVELY!!  We were welcomed by Bonnie, the lady of the home.  She showed us the room, and took us up to the balcony to see a spectacular view over the valley of Shillong.  Her daughter and son were home, and we met them.  She told us her husband Dean had a car and would talk to us about possibly driving for us the next day after he got home.  We were thrilled!  The place was fabulous.  They had a beautiful garden…and a see-saw! 

 

We decided to hike on the mountain behind their house, as the views of the city would only get better higher up.  Dean accompanied us and was quite interesting to talk to, telling me about the slum we walked through, and the area where he lived, and about his former work building homes.  The sunset that night, as well as dinner, was great.  We were so happy, and planned to have Dean take us to the village in Meghalaya the next day, via the scenic route.

Also, it was my nephew, Jonah’s first birthday during this time, so we had been exchanging some pics and trying to contact one another.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t any internet connection in the mountains, so it was a bit difficult, and we’d had a hard time getting in contact.  However, we eventually were able to talk briefly from Shillong!  Happy Birthday, Jonah!

 

Apr 19, 2014 @ 20:24

 

 

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Aslan’s Table…WHAT?!?!?

When we got up to head to Meghalaya, Bonnie had prepared breakfast and sent us off with a wave for our journey with Dean.  We drove out of Shillong and headed into the hills on a road that is under a lot of construction.  In some places, it’s still dirt and they are working on making it a paved two- or four- lane highway that will go from (before?) Guwahati all the way through to Dhaka in Bangladesh.  Dean (who is a delightful fount of knowledge) told us that the drive to Mawlynnong used to take twice as long as it does now.  Along the way, we stopped at several lovely viewpoints.  We first went to Elephant Falls, which was nice, but touristy…

Jayanthi and Alec also expressed a desire for pork momos (a specialty in the area, and to the north, such as Tibet and Nepal), really they wanted any sort of pork at all!  Dean stopped in a village at a place with us so we could buy pork to take with us to Mawlynnong, since he knew a place.  There was a fire in the corner and they were smoking the pork right there.  It smelled great.  We picked up a bunch to take with us (and they did cook it for us in Mawlynnong!)

In one leg of the journey, I questioned Dean about his people, the Khasi tribe.  I was fascinated to learn about them, because I had heard that this area of the country is Matrilineal, or that the family names pass down through the female line.  He confirmed that for me – in fact, he said there are three tribes in this region who practice this – and told me many things about his matriarchal society.  He described what it is like to live in a society like that, especially as a man.  And how things play out when the matriarch dies.  Interestingly, things pass down through the youngest female in the family, but not until after a year of mourning.  Men even take the wives’ names when they marry.  He said there are good things, and bad, about the system.  I was fascinated.

Dean was happy to talk about anything, and knowledgeable about everything.  He was also a fan of music, and listened to Cat Stevens and Jack Johnson and all sorts of music (some, he said, because his son made him listen).  He gladly stopped wherever we wished and was great company.  I cannot emphasize how different this was from our trip to Shillong from Guwahati!!! With the crappy Tourtst Driver….

One thing that is fascinating about the area of Meghalaya is that there is so much rainfall, some of the highest annually in the world.  I had imagined this would pose many problems for the people of the area, and that they would have developed many ways to “weather the storms” and deal with all the water.  I didn’t expect to see all the ways they would have used the water itself.  They use it in many ways as a tool.  For example, along the road they were building, many areas of the mountain would need to be removed.  I think in the US they would jackhammer or dynamite explode away parts of the rock face.  This would clear the way for the road.  Here, however, they don’t have that kind of power or access to those tools.  They chisel the rock and when the rain comes, it washes the rest of it away. What looks like scored lines all down the rock side of the mountain are actually chisel marks!  Wow.   Lots of time and effort.

As we drove, we noticed there had been some monoliths scattered throughout the countryside.  Not sure how long they’d been there, but definitely a long, long time, Dean said.  He said we could stop if we saw some more we liked.  I spotted some after a while and asked to stop.  They were out in a field a little way, and he pulled over.  We headed out to the monoliths, really excited because they looked like fingers reaching out of the ground.  But when we actually arrived at the stones, we were flabbergasted, because we realized we were looking at a stone table….and it was broken in the middle!  Those of you who have read The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, by C.S. Lewis will understand that we had found Aslan’s Table!  And, it was Easter weekend, by the way.  Jayanthi and I jumped for joy.  She sang a song.  It was crazy.

Wow, imagine finding Aslan’s table in northeast India.  Super cool.

Apr 20, 2014 @ 10:03

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The Sustainable Living Bridges of Meghalaya (or, Bridge from the Village Ruwai)

 

Today, I went to the living bridge in Ruwai, near Mawlynnong, in Meghalaya.  This is perhaps one of the most amazing things I have ever seen in my entire life.  I do not exaggerate on this.  Due to one of the highest annual rainfalls in the world, the floods each rainy season here can be catastrophic.  Bridges are not the only things that cannot withstand the floods, but here, the people have found a long-lasting sustainable way to cross the rivers in the valleys from village to village.   Over the course of a century or so, a banyan tree is coaxed to grow directly across a river, putting its roots deep into each bank.  The tree trunk becomes a bridge which can survive for 500 years.  The tree continues to grow roots into the banks of the river and the people tend the living bridge, helping it to stay strong.  It is a spectacular and amazing thing to see.

We woke early on our first morning in Mawlynnong.  We were staying at a resort in the village called the Skyview Resort.  It boasts of a bamboo treehouse-like structure, many stories in the sky.  From there, you can see far across the plains of Bangladesh, as we’re only a few kilometers from the boarder.  We went to the top of the bamboo structure – which is lashed together by strips of palm tree, I believe, and must be remade entirely every couple of years due to rain damage and tree growth changing the requirements for size and structure – just before dawn because we wanted to see the sunrise over Bangladesh.

There had been a small rainstorm at sundown the night before and morning broke slowly, fresh.  There is often a haze over everything, obscuring even the nearest mountains from view.  The far plains and the sun are hidden behind mists of clouds.  Meghalaya actually means “place of the clouds” in a local language, I believe.  But this morning the haze was light enough that we were able to see the plains after the burning red sun burst forth through the treetops. It was gorgeous.

We went down from the treehouse to have breakfast in the bamboo building where Mr. Rishat and the two boys who worked at Skyview cooked and served our meals (which were delicious).   Northeastern tea is served without milk, and sweet.  The flavours are delicious and subtle.  (Sadly, no daab grows in this region of India.)

We set off after breakfast from a trail behind our bungalow which Mr. Rishot told us would lead to the root bridge in the area.  It is actually in the village of Ruwai.  We had gone for a hike the night before and so knew some of the area, but hadn’t gone to the bridge yet.  After walking in the rainforest for some time, meeting a cool old guy on a bridge, watering Alec’s beard garden, and seeing all sorts of fascinating plants and animals, including a pineapple grove and an ant trail half a kilometer long, we arrived in a little village, where we found signs directing us towards the bridge.

We were early, and as we had hoped were some of the first people to arrive.  Really, there were only locals around.  The water levels are all low because this is the dry season.  It’s perfect for us because we were able to both go under the bridge and look at the construction, and then hike up the river a ways, bouldering a bit, which we all like to do.  The day was gorgeous, and other than the people doing their laundry here and there along the stream and the occasional fisherman, there were no other people for a few hours.

We walked down a bunch of stairs to get to the actual bridge crossing, most of them were stone steps, some just rocks, some just part of the dirt path.  I imagine this area gets quite slippery when it rains.  When we came upon the bridge, it was breathtaking.  The morning light was shining through the trees, and the scene was pastoral and idyllic.  The bridge was rather large, and along the actual footpath part, some stones had been laid down upon some earth to form the path.  I assume this helps protect the tree.  The roots had been pulled into the shape of supports for the bridge until it looked like it had been designed by an architect.   And from below, there were roots reaching out greedily towards the water of the low river.  We went up the river a ways and then hung out where we could see the bridge.  Jayanthi and Alec wanted to walk some more, but I’ve been having difficulty with my balance and dizziness (in part, I think from a head injury I had a few years ago) and had already fallen once, so I hung out and watched the locals and eventually some tourists who came to see the bridge. I also talked to a few of the people who had come from the neighboring village, which is connected to Ruwai by this path, but I can’t spell or pronounce its name.  After a while, the others returned and we headed back to the village for some lunch, agreeing that it had already been one of the best days ever.

Apr 24, 2014 @ 21:53

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 Green Villages, Red Teeth

 

 

Mawlynnong won an award a few years ago for being the cleanest village in Asia.  It is proud of that designation, and rightly so.  The village is almost utopian-like in its cleanliness.  When we were hiking, we went quite far out of the town before I saw even one potato-chip bag or other piece of trash on the ground.  In the rest of India, this would be incomprehensible.

Typically, in India, you don’t find trash cans anywhere, because trash goes everywhere.  Essentially, the whole country is a dustbin – but not Mawlynnong!  And the mentality extends a fair bit through much of the region as well.  The homes have manicured gardens, things are tidy, and the villagers all look pretty happy and clean.  They even have adorable woven bamboo trash cans all over the place!

We passed a large group of men working on a house, and were fascinated to see the assembly line they had going to pass the concrete and bricks up along the roof.  This definitely does not feel like the rest of India, as the three of us keep exclaiming!

The last morning in Mawlynnong, we saw a couple of things that were incredible.  One of them was a scorpion larger than my hand.

The other was a spider.  Its body was about 5 cms long – just the body, not the legs!  It had a web between some trees that was at least one meter wide.   (And we’d thought the one larger than a rupee the night before was big!)

In addition to the large bamboo structure at the Skyview where we are staying, there is another bamboo treehouse in town a little further up the hill.  It is right next to the church and is part of another little hotel/resort, the I-La-Jong Guesthouse.  This treehouse actually has a house in it – there is a little hut partway up with a door, bed, and window, but to get to it, you must cross a bridge that goes over the road.  It’s made of several pieces of bamboo, all lashed together with the strands of “rope” made of palm.

Then, above the hut is another platform for viewing.  From this one, you can see out to our resort’s platform and to Bangladesh beyond that, if the clouds aren’t low.  We went up this on our last morning in Mawlynnong. From the treehouse, we were able to see Dean, coming back into town to pick us up for our return to Shillong!   We flagged him down and he joined us up on the platform for a while.  We were happy to see him again.

We had called Dean from Mawlynnong to see if he would drive us again and arranged to stay another night in Shillong before returning to Guwahati, having had such a great experience at the Hilltop Chateau on our first go-round.  Alec and my schedule was still flexible for the second half of the trip.  We were planning to travel north to Assam and visit Kaziranga National Park after dropping my sister in Guwahati.  Jayanthi was going to return to Kolkata by plane as she had to work that week.  After a little convincing and some flight changes, Jayanthi decided to extend her trip and call in to work so she could join us.  We were all pretty thrilled with the revised plan, as we’d been having such a great trip.

On the way back to Shillong, we stopped at the pork shop again.  We were going to have lunch there, but after we ordered, Dean had the brilliant idea to have a picnic.  And, like the most prepared Boy Scout, he had all the supplies we needed in his van.  The ladies packed our food up for us and we drove into a beautiful spot in the forest a little ways down the road and stopped for a delicious meal in the woods!  Yum!

Dean also told me a great story told by the Khasi people about the betel nut.  This is the nut chewed by the locals that makes most of them have dyed red teeth.  In India, many people eat or chew paan, often after a meal. The betel nut is wrapped in the leaf, with a paste and several other things, such as coconut and sugar or anise seeds.  The betel nuts are treated specially when they are dried and they are extremely hard.  Some people also use a powdery form, more like chewing tobacco.  When the paste and the nut are mixed, a red juice is created, and the result over time is stained teeth.  Paan is popular throughout the country, but Dean said that it is in this area where it is grown and processed, and it takes a lot of time to prepare the nut correctly.  We saw some places where the nuts were being soaked.  Click here for a video of Dean telling me the Khasi story about the Betel nut.  I learned a lot from Dean, our host and driver extraordinaire!

 

Apr 26, 2014 @ 14:53

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Seeking the Unicorn

The next morning, Dean took us into town and helped us arrange a driver to take us to Kaziranga National park in Assam.  Our driver was cool, stopping for daab just outside of town (basically as soon as it was available) and good-naturedly letting us fill up every extra available square inch of the car with coconuts “for the ride” and the rest of the time in Kaziranga.  The daab wallah cut them all down for us so they would be almost open, but not quite.  I have a small leatherman tool that we can use to get them open the rest of the way.

We arrived in Kaziranga, after dark, without having made any sort of hotel reservation for that night.  We hadn’t had wi-fi, much less phone service over the last few days, but we had managed to get a couple snapshots with phone numbers of local hotels.  We called a couple when we arrived in town and found some that had availability.  Our driver took us to one and we got a room and were settled in time to get dinner at a nearby restaurant just before they closed.  We also got information about booking an elephant ride for the morning.

Kaziranga is one of the only places in the world where you can still find the one-horned rhinoceros, or rhinoceros unicorneus.  The “Unicorn” in its scientific name is appropriate now, sadly, not only because of its one horn, but because of its rarity.  There are only a few thousand left in the world.  They can be found in Nepal and a couple places in India.  Here, you are able to go out into the park and often are lucky enough to see the rhinos, especially at dawn and dusk, when they come to the watering holes.  This still being the dry season, those watering holes are smaller than normal, and so we had a better chance than usual of seeing all the animals in the park.

The best way to see them, we had learned, was on an elephant safari at dawn.  We’d also heard (from Dean, fount of all knowledge) that a Gypsy tour was not to be missed.  I originally thought he was saying a Jeep-See tour, but turns out the Jeeps you go out in are a model called Gypsy!  It’s necessary to purchase a day-pass to enter the park, and as it happens, the afternoons are a pretty good time for the Gypsy tours, as the sun goes down kind of early here since we’re rather far north, so we were able to do both in one day.

Interestingly, we also had to pay for the company of an armed guard on the elephant safari.  And sure enough, when we were on the elephants, there was one guy on one of the elephants in the group with us who had a gun – although the elephants were really spread out a lot of the time and I’m not sure what good he would have done in the event of an actual problem….

We got up the next morning before dawn, having arranged for someone to pick us up and drive us out to the elephant safari.  When we arrived, we found a group of mahouts preparing the elephants to take us out for our ride.  With our pack of elephants were two babies, who accompanied their mothers.  It was great to watch them frolic and play as we headed out into the dawn.  I felt like I was watching a Babar book come to life!

As the mahouts got the elephants saddled and ready, we saw a rhino across a field, maybe a quarter of a kilometer away.  Our taxi driver the night before had pointed one out right at twilight the night before as we were coming into town, but it had been really difficult to see.  We were super-excited to see a rhino, either way, snapping photos both times.  Little did we know….

Jayanthi and I were put on an elephant with one mahout and then Alec was put on with another.  The mahouts themselves were interesting to watch, their interactions with one another and with the elephants.  The saddles looked very uncomfortable – for the elephants!

We set out, a pack of grown elephants, and a couple of babies, with a couple of dozen humans, nearly silent on their backs in the predawn.   First, we saw a bunch of local deer, gazelle-like in shape, and birds.  Many are white, crane-type birds, but there are a wide variety.  Shortly, however, we came upon a rhino, grazing in the bush, and were able to get extremely close!  I was amazed.  The rhino weighed at least a ton, and was plated, so it looked like it had grey, steel armor all over its body.

When the elephants began to get close, they (the rhinos and elephants) began making noises to one another.  You can see a video here. It was fascinating.  Then, a little further in, we saw another rhino, and another!

One pair we came upon was a mother and a baby, which was really neat to see as well.  And I must say, a baby rhino is no small thing!  We saw so many rhinos that morning, I lost count.  The elephant safari was a roaring success.

We went back to the hotel for breakfast and officially scheduled our Gypsy tour for that afternoon.  Our driver, when we got assigned to a jeep, was named Babloo.  He was a cool Assamese guy who has been working as a driver in the park for the last nine years.  He’d picked up information over the years from knowledgeable tourists, other guides, etc, and was pretty well-informed about the park and its inhabitants.  He was also packing a pair of binoculars and had a keen eye for spotting wildlife! This, to our great amazement and luck, even included a tiger!   We stopped at one of the observation towers and went up to have a look.  After doing a perusal of the area, Babloo told me there was a tiger about a half a kilometer away.  I had to look very carefully, but I could see him!

He was just a dot of color, but with the binoculars or with Alec’s telephoto lens, we could see him, and it was clear when he changed positions on the bank where he was sunning himself.  It is very rare to see a tiger in the wild (and not die!) so we were thrilled.  And we weren’t even in the Sundarbans Tiger Preserve I was planning to visit with my sister, (where apparently no one ever sees a tiger anyway)!

India has minimal rules, Babloo was super chill, and the jeeps are open with two rows behind the driver, so on the way into the park, we were standing up on the seats of the jeep.  It felt a bit like flying.  (Soon, all the other people in the nearby jeeps were doing the same.  I don’t blame them, the copycats…)  On the way back, Alec convinced Babloo to let him drive the jeep.  The jeep has few – if any – shocks…  Babloo also knows the road a bit better and where to go to miss the potholes as the majority of the road wasn’t paved, so the drive back was a bit bumpy, but it was an adventure!

Jayanthi rode up front with Alec, so Babloo and I sat in the back and I got him to tell me stories about the time he saw a rhino charge (and completely tip over) a jeep that was right in front of him (and full of tourists)!  According to him, the park loses one ranger or driver each year to elephant or rhino accidents!  Crazy!

On the way back into town, Babloo took us by his home and showed us where he lived, which was super-cool of him.  When we arrived, he first rounded up his cows, and then gave us a tour.  While in the kitchen, we saw another enormous spider!  And he also had a giant machete (like for opening daab).  Babloo was a great Gypsy tour driver! He also went above and beyond and helped us arrange a driver for the next day to get us back to Guwahati for our flight back to Kolkata.

A smooth ending to a fantastic trip!

 Apr 26, 2014 @ 23:49

 

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Again, with the Kolkata…(and the heat and the travel)…

The weather forecast for today in Kolkata says it’ll be 109 degrees Farenheit (43 Celsius).  That is so NOT cool, especially when you consider that there is humidity to boot.   I have to tell you, I do not love super-hot weather.  I feel that whenever you are cold, you can always add layers, but once you are hot, and have taken off all of your layers, there is nothing to do about being hot, naked, and miserable!  It’s been so hot here since our return to W. Bengal that most of the time during the day, I don’t want to even leave the house!  I don’t think anyone else does, either….  Most shops here even close during the main heat of the day.  Some people come out at night, because it’s semi-cool then.  There’s a place under a fly-over near my sister’s home where people play chess after dark.

Luckily, I’ve had a lot to do here indoors.  I’m trying to figure out what I’ll be doing for the next year.  There are many things to consider.  I’ve been looking at getting a “Round-The-World” Ticket through one of the Airline Alliances.  This is the kind of airline ticket where you pick out an itinerary and outline the dates and purchase a RTW ticket. Then, you are able to adjust the dates a bit as you go along.  However, this means that I have to plan out which countries I actually want to visit and in which order over the next year of my travels. This is made more complex because I’m hoping to volunteer along the way somewhere.  I’m not sure where or when, so that could throw a big wrench into the whole works.  Also, I don’t really know for sure exactly where I want to go or in what order yet.  There are different RTW tickets, each with different guidelines available.  Some are based on mileage, some on the number of continents you visit, and can choose anywhere from 3 to 16 different legs, or stops, in any amount of time from 10 days up to one year.  But there are other restrictions, such as only being able to travel in one direction, or having to cross the Atlantic and Pacific oceans one time each.  I’ve been trying to weigh out all of these options.

Simultaneously, I’m looking for another hotel here in town.  My sister Jayanthi and her boyfriend Aakash have been kind enough to let me stay with them at their home for a few days, but it’s definitely not a large place and I know they need their space.  I have essentially taken up their living room, so they don’t have much left except their bedroom and kitchen.  I’m beginning to feel like a nuisance. Jayanthi has been busy with her school and getting the children ready for a big production they are working on.  They will be performing the musical “The Wizard of Oz” on May 10th.  This is the first time that the school has done anything like this – a big, school-wide production, a high school musical, anything like that.  So, perhaps because they haven’t done this and have no idea what they are doing, and maybe because of the Indian culture difference, they are doing some things very erratically, and every day they change something they just decided to do another way the day before.  It’s been frustrating for Jaya, to say the least, and the administration has little consideration for their teachers, or for females either, even though Jayanthi has more experience in this than all of them put together!

So I found a guesthouse above a coffee shop not too far from Jayanthi and Aakash’s house.  It also has Wi-Fi, which is a necessity with all the airplane research etc that I have to do.  I moved in and have been getting to know the area. I went to a party at Nishad’s house with Jayanthi and Aakash over the weekend.  Nishad is moving out of town for a while to travel with his music (he is the phenomenal guitar player in Aakash’s Kolkata band.)  I enjoyed meeting his friends and hanging out at his place.

And I went out to dinner with Jayanthi and her friends a couple of times this week as well.  We had a good time and had some tasty (you’ll never guess…) Indian food!  But another time we went to a place where they cooked kebabs for you right on the table, which was pretty cool – like an Indian version of Hibachi.  When I ordered a wine, they brought me an entire bottle.  True, it was a mini bottle, but it was all mine.  Oh, India!

It’s interesting, but finally, slowly, I’m beginning to find my feet again here in Kolkata.  I don’t feel so overwhelmed by the city.  I’m actually able to cross the street, for example, without feeling as though death is imminent!  And I can navigate from here to there and no longer worry about whether or not I’ll be able to communicate my needs when I go out.  It’s amazing how paralyzing it can be when you are unsure of your ability to get things accomplished due to language and culture barriers.  It’s nice to be a little more relaxed.

 May 1, 2014 @ 23:32

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The Moth Kolkata Takes Flight

Last night, I got to go to the first ever Moth Storytelling night to be held in Kolkata.  It was hosted by Rishi Desai and his girlfriend Melissa and was absolutely great!   I hadn’t heard about The Moth before my sister told me about it a couple of weeks ago, knowing I would be in town for it.  I was pretty thrilled when I found out what it’s about.   For those of you who haven’t heard about it, check it out here.  And listen to some of the podcasts.

It’s a great way for people to tell stories and to hear stories – to keep the art of storytelling alive.  This is an excellent thing, and I fully support it.  As someone who is wants to read audiobooks, and who enjoys writing as well, I was especially fascinated.  When my sister told me about it, she was amazed that I hadn’t heard about it already.

Rishi has been involved in this for quite some time, had been going to  them and telling stories in the ones in the US when he lived there, actually.  Now that he lives in Kolkata, he decided to get the ball rolling here.  It was my incredible luck to be here to see the beginning of this particular chapter.  The theme that they picked for this first evening was “Flight,” an interesting concept as there are many different ways one can go with it.  Airplane flights, taking flight, flying high, etc. and the stories that people chose to tell were quite varied.  People were supposed to limit their stories to 5 minutes, and to be sure to tell an actual story, rather than just come up and tell a joke or ramble on about themselves.  For the most part, this really worked, and it was fascinating, and enjoyable.  I even told a little story myself…

I really enjoyed meeting Melissa as well.  We had been corresponding through email a little before this evening because she works for a company called Sari Bari.  I got to meet one of the founders, Sarah, last night at the party, as well as some other people who work there.  I don’t know much about Sari Bari yet except that it works in the Red Light District of Kolkata with women who have left prostitution.  Jayanthi connected us, hoping that maybe Melissa would give me a tour of their program or something like that.  We have one planned for later this week!  I’m very excited about it, and I’ll be sure to blog all about it.

I’ve decided to definitely stay in town until after Jayanthi’s student’s performance of the Wizard of Oz.  I think it would crazy for me be all the way this side of the world and not see what she’s been putting so much time and effort into, even if the people at her school are doing everything they can to make it difficult for her and the students.  The kids at the school really love having her as a teacher (I made a quick visit to the school when I first came to Kolkata, although I was a bit ill at the time) and I could see how much they appreciated both her and her teaching style.

I hung out some this week with Alec, which was nice. We went to a park midway between my hotel and his apartment. It was quite beautiful, is by the train tracks, and has a lake. Apparently, the laughing club meets there as well….

One night, we all went out to The Fairlawn for beers (and a little impromptu singing).  Unfortunately, I didn’t run into those people I’d met before.  However, we did run into Melissa and Sarah from Sari Bari and one of the guys we met at Nishad’s party!  It’s a small world.

I enjoyed finally making it to The Fairlawn, where I’d had so many past memories with my sister, and this time, I went upstairs to the first floor, where they have information up about the hotel itself and about the filming of The City of Joy, (which I relate it with) based on the book by Dominique Lepierre, and a couple of other films it’s been in.  The Fairlawn has been active in Kolkata for a quite some time.  I enjoyed seeing those displays.  It’s also fun seeing my sister with her friends.  They really have a good time together and are really fun to spend time with.

 

May 5, 2014 @ 10:49

 

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Marble Palaces and Public Buses

 

I just went see to the Marble Palace here in Kolkata.  It is a home that belongs to a wealthy family here in town and has been in their family since the 1830s.  Apparently they still live there in a part of the house.  The tour guide (who didn’t really speak any English) told me that there are 22 members of the family still there.  It’s a huge house, so they could all live there, with room to spare…  There are actually a couple of original Rubens paintings there and a Sir Joshua Reynolds original as well.  They were beautiful, as was the original Italian marble flooring, the Belgian glass chandeliers and floor-to-ceiling mirrors.  There were also a lot of bronze statues and a zoo, of sorts, on the grounds.  There were a lot of birds and some other random ground animals in cages lining the property and bird cages lining the courtyard of the house.  Many of the birds were exotic (S. American, or Australian).  It was an interesting setup. A lot of the sculptures were done in sets.  There were, for example, sculptures done of the 4 seasons, or Napoleon and Wellington would be placed on opposite sides of a room.  There was some beautiful carved alabaster work, and I really enjoyed looking at everything.  Outside of the building, I saw a pair of statues for comedy and tragedy.  The tragedy lady looked sad, holding her tragedy mask.  The comedy one, however, was holding a happy mask slightly away from her face, but interestingly enough, still looked a bit sad.  I found that rather arresting.  I looked at those two for a while.

Apparently, you’re supposed to come to the Marble Palace with written permission from the tourism board of India.  Not sure where you’re supposed to procure that permission, but you should have it, as it happens.  …of course, if you don’t have it, you are just supposed to bribe the guys at the door.  When I got there, I was first met by a guy at the gate who tried to stop me.  He said something about paying him and then paying a tour guide at the door.  I wasn’t super keen on that.  I argued , asking why I had to pay twice.  He relented, (maybe thinking he could just get a cut from them?)  and I went in, promising not to take pictures.  I wandered the grounds for a while, stared at the comedy and tragedy, and then went to the door.  They took my name and address  (?) and let me in with a tour guide saying I could pay on the way out.  At the end of the tour, I gave the tour guide some money.  He started complaining, saying he had to split it with 10 guys and I should give him more money.  I said thank you, but no and walked out, thanking the official looking guys at the door and continuing without once looking back. At the gate the guy asked if I paid and I said yeah and kept walking.  I felt a little guilty and worried that they’d follow me, but no one did.  So that was that.  But it’s a little stressful in India, where most people see foreigners as walking cash machines.

Honestly, I’d been a little worried I wouldn’t get in at all.  Yesterday, I tried to go to the Birla Mandir, which is a big, rather famous Hindu temple here in Kolkata.  It was built in the 1990s – well, it was finished then. I think it actually took over 20 years to make.  I don’t think I’d been on my last trip here though.  I walked there from my hotel, but when I got there, I wasn’t allowed in.  I didn’t know why but then saw a sign that said no backpacks or large bags.  I was super pissed, though, because a bunch of girls who came in after me had purses way bigger than my daypack backpack and totally got in, no problem.  I’m sure that if I could have argued in the right language, I could have gotten in.  I mean, it was my purse, and where the hell was I supposed to leave it?  They didn’t even have a bag check, like they do at most places (even the damn grocery store!)  So that was frustrating, to say the least.

Yesterday, I had planned to go to the Birla Mandir and then head down to Newmarket area to get dinner at Nizam’s Restaurant.  This is a restaurant that was my dad’s favorite when he lived here in Kolkata during his college days (late 1960s).  I had really loved going there when I lived here myself in the late 1990s.  I remembered loving their chicken kebabs in particular.  I’d told my sister about the place and she and her friend Alec had said they had good rolls and even went here with my dad and mom when they were in town over Christmas.  But it was a couple of miles away from the Mandir.  I thought about taking a cab, but then a bus came by and I saw that it was going to somewhere near where I needed to be.  I hopped on.

Bus rides in India are usually a bit of an adventure.  Really, all public transport is.  It’s always way, way way too full.  I mean they take the maximum capacity and then try to triple or quadruple the occupancy.  People literally hang off the sides and back of the vehicles.  People cram in like sardines, and everyone is sweating and stinking and pressed up against one another.  Being groped is, while not a certainty, quite likely, but it’s not always intentional!  On this ride, for example, two girls got on about halfway to my destination.  They were school-aged, maybe high school or college.  They got on after the bus was already quite full.  I’d been standing in the front area, all the seats being full.  I was holding to the bar by the ceiling, as was everyone – if you don’t hold on, you fall down – it’s very stop-and-go!  They came and stood right next to/in front of me, really there was nowhere else to stand, they were crammed there.  Several of the bumps slammed their faces (which were right on eye-level with my chest) directly into my breasts.  Oops.  I’m a bit too tall for India.  I could tell they were talking and awkwardly laughing a bit about it after the one girl had a face-plant for the second time.  I kind of tried to move, mumbling an apology, but really, there’s not really anywhere else to move, and if I turn around, I’m doing the same thing to someone else, so….  It was one of the more comical awkward India moments I’ve had lately.  I just gave the girl a slightly laughing apologetic look, because, what else can you do?

One problem with standing (rather than sitting) on the bus is that you can’t actually see out of any of the windows.  And the guy who stands at the door of the bus (hangs out the door, to be precise) yelling out the destinations of the bus, doesn’t usually say where the bus is – or when/if he does, I can’t really distinguish it from the rest of the places he’s saying.  So I was kind of wondering how I’d tell when I got where I needed to go.  There isn’t even room to bend over to look out the window periodically.  I asked one of the short girls where they had gotten on, and one guy who had heard me get my ticket when I got on said not to worry cause he was getting off when I was.  I relaxed (as much as one can when standing on a moving, jerking bus) until I heard Newmarket a couple of times.  I asked if that’s where we were.  The guy told me yes, and I decided to get off at the next stop.

Luckily, when I got off, I found I was less than half a block away from Nizam’s!  Yay!  And the food was just as great as I remembered!  I had a chicken kebab.  Their special is a chicken kathi kebab.  For those of you not too familiar, it tastes similar to tandoori chicken, but like it’s premarinated in more awesomeness and sautéed at the end in delicious onions and chilis.  If you order a roll, they basically put the chicken with the onions and chilis in a piece of freshly cooked, buttery naan.  Mmmm…

After that delicious meal, I wandered over to the Fairlawn a couple of blocks away.  I walked in and – lo, and behold! – my friend Neel was sitting in his usual spot!  I had hoped I would run into him! He caught sight of me right away and I joined him.  It was perfect because he had just arrived and was also on his own that evening.  We hung out and talked for a couple of hours.  We actually had a bunch to catch up on – I hadn’t seen him since our first meeting before my trip to the Northeast.  My initially shitty Birla Mandir day turned into an awesome evening at Nizam’s and the Fairlawn with Neel.  This time we exchanged info, deciding it was indeed fortuitous that we met and a sign we should be friends.  We’ll hang out again before I leave Kolkata.

 May 7, 2014 @ 22:26

 

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Sari Bari…transforming clothes, changing lives

Jayanthi and I went to meet Melissa at Sari Bari today. She had promised to give us a tour this afternoon of one of their locations, where she works, in Shova Bazzar.  Sari Bari is a program that works in the red light district of Kolkata. It isn’t geared at getting women out of that line of work, but rather at helping women who have already decided to leave it. The reason for this is that any group that tried to work in the Red Light District, overtly attempting to remove women from prostitution would be in danger, as they would be actively pitting themselves against the pimps and the brothel madams.

So Sari Bari helps the women by providing them with employment after they have chosen to leave the profession themselves. They purchase used saris at a big market in town and use the material to make blankets, handbags, purses, diaper bags, etc. They are unique and quite beautiful. Each item is also embroidered with the first name of the woman who made the article. You can follow this link to their website and see some of their work as well as more information about their products and projects.

In addition to their new careers, the women are given the opportunity to consolidate their debts with a loan from Sari Bari, at a much more reasonable rate (read: a rate they can actually pay off some day, as opposed to never due to astronomical interest rates) than the one which is usually available from anywhere else (read: pimps, madams, and local loansharks). Also, all of these women have the opportunity to send their children to school. Many of their daughters eventually apply to work at Sari Bari themselves, rather than join their mother’s former profession, which happens more often than not in that area.

Sari Bari has support classes for the women, who are often emotionally traumatized from the lives they have been living. They also provide education for the ladies themselves.  Another cool thing they do is celebrate the “Birthday” of each woman, on the anniversary of when she began working for the company, honoring her and the new life she is leading.

When my sister and I met Melissa near the metro station, she walked us through the Shova Bazzar area towards the Sari Bari home where she worked. I could tell that this was an area of town that I wouldn’t really want to walk around in alone. Melissa told us that she felt quite safe in the area because the locals all knew her by now, since she’d been working there for quite some time. She had run into the occasional troublemaker, but people had been quick to jump in and assist her, as everyone seems to know who is who and what’s going on there in that Red Light District. There are several of “Red Light” areas in Kolkata. Sari Bari has workspaces in a few of them.

The building in Shova Bazzar was several stories high, and the bottom floor had some rooms where several of the ladies and their families clearly lived, at least one family per tiny room. Above, there were rooms where the ladies worked on the projects, crammed tightly into little rooms. Rooms for cutting cloth, rooms for sewing machines, rooms for hand-stitching. We sat on the floor in one room, where several ladies were each working on a pile of sewing. There were many children playing in the areas, clearly happy and able to be watched by their mothers and the other women communally.

Melissa told us about the project, and we were able to watch the women work. Then she took us through the building for a tour. We spoke with some of the ladies, and they asked us questions too, especially as they could tell we were of Indian descent. Everyone there seemed to be in good spirits. After a tea break, we took a look at some of their products. Each bag was absolutely beautiful! Eventually, we each settled on a couple of items. I got a big purse and a laptop sleeve for myself, as well as a little purse for my niece. All of the designs are bright and colorful and knowing the story behind each piece just makes them so much more special.

Before leaving, we toured the building across the street. Sari Bari had purchased it and is working on rennovating it so that they can expand the business and have more space to work. They are painting now. I said I would be in town for another week and offered to help paint, but Melissa is going out of town this weekend with one of the Directors of Sari Bari, and won’t be back until shortly before I leave. She’s going to give my email address to another volunteer who will possibly be painting, depending on if things are ready, and if I can be of assistance, I would like to.

Otherwise, at least I can spread the word about this great company.  So if you’re looking for a nice gift for your friend or family member, check these out!  They ship in the US.  (Okay, I’ll stop plugging products now…. It’s just that it’s for a good cause!)  We couldn’t take pictures there, for the safety and privacy of the women, but here is a picture of the computer sleeve I got.    And if it doesn’t work out for me to volunteer at Sari Bari, I think I’ll try and go see if I can help out at one of Missionaries of Charity (Mother Teresa’s order) houses this next week, after my sister’s student’s show.

May 9, 2014 @ 1:31

 

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Couchsurfing in the Hilands of Kolkata

My sister set helped me connect with one of her friends here in Kolkata on couchsurfing.org. This is a website where people make their extra bedrooms or couches available to travellers. In exchange, the hope is that someday, the chance will arise to “pay the favor forward” and people will be able to travel the world without having to pay for accommodation. Also, the added bonus and goal is to exchange culture and information and share experiences etc. It’s a great program. While one does need to be cautious about who you stay with, there is a referral and verification system in place that helps. People write references about their experiences and about the people they know. It usually works out pretty well, from what I understand.

Anyway, her friend Andrew is living here in Kolkata with his girlfriend Sheila and their friend Mike. They’ve been traveling for the last few weeks, but would be back in town around the 8th or 9th. I’ve been corresponding with Andrew and had made plans to stay at their place from the 9th. They live in an apartment comnplex called Hiland Park. It’s located in the southern part of Kolkata, a bit out of town.

I packed up yesterday morning and got ready to leave the guesthouse where I’d been staying in Gariahat, near my sister. I stayed for a while and had lunch in the coffee shop downstairs as I still had some time before I could contact Andrew or Mike to get into the place in Hiland Park. After I spoke with them on the phone, they told me to head over to the apartment because the servant girl, Mithu would be able to let me in. I got a cab and headed over.

Hiland Park is a gated community, so that was a little daunting, and as the taxi driver took me in and the guards questioned me for a second, I was worried. But as soon as I said the apartment number, they said, very knowingly, “Oh, Mike, Mike!  Okay!” and let me in. (I guess Mike is popular with the ladies…)

 

The apartment is on the 12th floor with a fantastic view.   Birds (eagles or hawks) fly about on the wind currents at or below eye level.  Mithu is a very nice lady who speaks about as much English as I do Bangla. However, she speaks a smattering of Telugu too, perhaps from interactions with other servants in the area, so with a jumble of the three (and a couple words in Hindi), we are able to communicate well enough.

I had an enjoyable afternoon settling into the apartment and when Sheila, Andrew’s girlfriend came home in the evening (after first assuming I was in the house to visit Mike), we started talking and really hit it off.  She has family in Andhra Pradesh also, so she knows a little Telugu as well.  We also have a lot of similar interests.  She currently works for an NGO, and has go leave for New Delhi in a day or so for work.  Andrew brews beers and is a really fun guy.  He’s working on a book for his degree, and I’m looking forward to talking to him more.

Later that night, there was a party at the house, partly to welcome Mike back into town, as he had been in America for several months. Alec and Matt were also going to be leaving soon and Alec had lived in the apartment in the past as well, so it was a hello/goodbye party. Everyone had a great time, especially when someone remembered an old bag of fireworks lying around… It was also Tagore’s birthday anniversary, so I guess we had that as an excuse to shoot them off, if anyone asks.  I think I’m going to like staying in this place!

 May 10, 2014 @ 11:11

 

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 Off to See The “Vizzard”

 

 

Last night was the long-awaited night of the Dolna Day School’s production of the Wizard of Oz.  My sister had managed to procure a ticket for me and I planned to meet a few of her friends at the show.   When I first arrived and went into the auditorium, I saw my sister in the orchestra pit with most of the chorus.  Jayanthi was dressed in a beautiful sari and all of the kids were in the uniform costumes the chorus had been assigned.

Jayanthi waved me over and re-introduced me to the kids as I stood looking down at them.  Not sure if they’d know what it meant, I took the gamble and told them all to “break a leg.”  I was pleased that I did when, as I said it, I noticed some of the students excitedly nudge one another and whisper a little.  Sure enough, Jayanthi later confirmed for me that she had told them about the American practice of never saying “good luck” to actors, but rather “break a leg.”  I was glad I had said that, confirming her stories about American traditions.

I took my seat, where Jayanthi and I had reserved spots for her friends, Aakash, and me, and settled in to sit through the (inevitable, interminable) speeches that precede any Indian function.  If you don’t speak the language, and it’s your first function, you might imagine that the first person speaking is the actual speaker.  Don’t be fooled – they’re probaby just introducing the speaker!  Or, they might be presenting an award to someone who will then speak at length about how honored they are to receive the award.  Eventually, it was time to begin the show.

No matter how many times you’ve seen The Wizard of Oz, until you’ve seen it performed with an Indian accent, you’ve not really experienced the show!  Wow.  Jayanthi had been joking and telling us about this in preparation, but it was a riot.  Clearly, the kids had been coached to over-enunciate, since English isn’t the first language of everyone in the audience (or cast).  Add to that the awesome accent and different speech rhythms and you have a new show.  A wicked witch cackling AND side-to-side Indian-head-bobbing is a great combination!

Plus, the lights and sound were Indian.  By this, I mean, the sound system was turned on to the loudest possible level, and left there.  The volume reached such a high decibel that, even with my ears plugged with my fingers, I could still hear the whispers of the kids behind stage who had forgotten to cover their mics while telling one another good luck before the show.  The lights included laser pictures superimposed upon the projected images upon the back of the stage which were used as backdrops. When the characters when down the yellow brick road, for example, trees moved along the background to simulate motion.  But – this is India – they were palm trees!  Other random images occasionally appeared, such as a panther when the lion first appeared, butterflies, and (I believe), a pelican.

Like any true Indian production, Bollywood’s influence proved impossible to resist, and so there were some Indian Dance Breaks.  The dance of the crows before the Scarecrow sange his song was choreographed like a scene from an Indian film.  Check it out with this link.  It’s only filmed with my phone, but you’ll get the idea.

The kids were all wonderful, especially considering how many changes the admin had given them, right up until the show.  The leads were great, expressive and did a good job.  The kids on stage all danced and looked great.  All of the chorus, which performed from the orchestra pit was wonderful.  My sister would stand to direct all of the kids for the chorus parts.

This will be Jayanthi’s last night working with the children and they are all clearly quite sorry to see her go.  Here is a clip of the kids doing Over the Rainbow during the curtain call.  Many of them came up to her after the show to say goodbye and tell her how much they would miss her.  I am so proud of my little sister, and very glad I decided to stay to see the show.

 

 May 11, 2014 @ 18:19

 

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Runnin’ ‘Round Town

Over the last week, I’ve been going around to different areas of Kolkata for multiple reasons.  I’ve been hanging out with my sister and her friends in various locations – restaurants, clubs, malls, parks, – I’ve moved residences from one area of town to another, and I’ve gone back to the Sudder Street/Newmarket area where I used to hang out during my stay in Kolkata in the 1998.  I’ve enjoyed getting reacquainted with the town.

It’s been interesting here in India over the last few weeks as well, because this is election time in India.  This will, when all is said and done, be the largest democratic election to have taken place in the world, ever.  Admittedly, there is evidence that corruption is playing a part (when is it not?), that people are being paid to go to the polls and vote a certain way, or threatened etc. When I walk down the street, my ears are constantly assaulted by people chanting slogans and telling people how to vote.  This is done at top volume from loudspeakers set up along the streets as people stand on stages set up on street corners.  This is done from vehicles that drive up and down the streets.  Since I don’t speak the language, this sounds like I am being yelled at, rather threateningly, all the time!  It’s hard to describe, but Indians have a certain speech pattern, especially when giving a speech, which is quite forceful and pauses, rather rhythmically, between each wave of hi-decibel audio assault. I can hear it from the 12th floor apartment I’m staying at in Hiland Park as clear as a bell.  When I’m on the streets, among the sound, the noise is deafening and seems to come from everywhere at once.  It will be interesting to see how this election turns out….

Aakash played at a club called the Princeton this week.  It was a unique collaboration with a group more new age/jazzy than he normally plays with.  The style was very definitely very unique but Jaya’s friend Lily and I were still surprised when the show ended with a song culminating in a French-film monologue track!  I also enjoyed running into people I’d met earlier in my Kolkata stay, at Nishad’s party.  Actually, I didn’t hear them calling my name at first.  Shantha is a relatively common name in India (not in the top ten, but certainly not uncommon), so I’ve been hearing my name frequently since coming here.  I’ve had to get used to not reacting every time I hear my name being called.  So I was at the club and when my  name was called, I discounted it because I wasn’t expecting to know anyone other than the people I was with.  It wasn’t until an entire chorus of people simultaneously yelled my name that I turned!  That was a new experience!

Today, I met Alec and Matt at the Banana Leaf, a restaurant specializing in food from Kerala.  They make amazing dosas.  These are a kind of “Indian Crepes” made with batter from rice and lentil flour.  Frequently, they are eaten with potato curry or sambaar.  Delicious.  This place has a “family size dosa” and it is monstrous.  I had to see it to believe it!  I think it’s Jayanthi’s favorite restaurant.  I like it cause I can get great South Indian coffee there (milky and sweet and mixed in front of you by pouring it dramatically between two cups)!

I went to Suder Street a couple of times, as I said.  I met up with Neel the first time, by accident.  A couple nights later, I went to the Fairlawn with my sister and her friends, but met up with Neel as well.  It was great to see him and I was very glad he and my sister were able to meet.  ONe of those first times I went back to Newmarket, I was looking for a place to eat and I came across the Blue Sky Café, a place I remembered eating lunch at after volunteering many times when I lived here before.  (It’s also next door to a dairy store, and I love yogurt and milk, so that had been somewhere I knew as well).  Both were still standing and operating in full swing.  I stopped for a meal at the Blue Sky, which is still full of just as many Videshis (foreigners) as before, and then continued walking around the area.

Newmarket and Hogg Market is a very bustling place.  The stores are mostly restaurant and retail and then there are little stores that spring up during the day all along the sidewalks and roadside.  This is pretty typical all around Kolkata.  The vendors set up in the morning and take down at night.  It’s usually the same person in the same place each day, not something where they have to fight for place (that I know of), but it’s fascinating how busy a street can be when you add several feet of goods to sell to the sidewalks.  Then, you add people walking up and down the roads and people pushing carts up and down the streets with vegetables and other goods etc. and beggars.  Then there’s still traffic – cars, buses, autos, motorcycles, bikes, animals.  A few areas of Newmarket are covered or inside, and they are warrens of alley-like hallways with shops and goods to sell and people crowding everywhere.  It can all be overwhelming, but it’s a place that just bursts with vivacity. I found a movie theater I remembered frequenting in the past, as well as one of my former favorite tea stalls, where I of course stopped for chai.  Delicious!

It’s been great to get to know the town again.  I feel relatively comfortable riding the Metro, now and am able to go places on the bus and autos when needed.   I still have adventures, however.  I missed my stop on the Metro yesterday when returning home to Hiland Park.  I got off at the next stop and perhaps I exited the wrong way from the station, but when I came out there was nothing as far as buses or something to get back to the earlier part of town.  I had to ask someone for directions, and ended up walking at least a kilometer or two before finding the bus I needed to take to return from the metro station I should have taken.

Nonetheless, I’ve enjoyed some of my trips down memory lane and finding my feet in town. I’ve decided to leave India within a week or two and am looking at flights.  Jayanthi’s friend Jess told me about a music festival in Morocco that happens in June.  Apparantly it is the local music, and is tribal-style, with a lot of similarities to reggae.  It sounds right up my alley.  I just need to figure out how to make my itinerary work out so I’m in Morocco the second half of June.  I want to spend at least a couple of weeks there, as I’d like to see a bit of the country, as well. Since I only have a little time left in town, I’ve also decided to see if I can help out at Mother Teresa’s place.  I’ll go by the Mother House and see what’s what tomorrow.

May 11, 2014 @ 23:07

 

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Take me to the Mother House

This afternoon, I went to visit the Mother House of the Missionaries of Charity. This is where Mother Teresa is buried and where her order is headquartered. It is also filled with memories for me personally. The first time I came to the Mother House was in 1993. My extended family had come to town on a trip throughout India. I was in the country with my immediate family and we were traveling in the north of India with a couple of my aunts and uncles and cousins and their kids. My father completed his master’s degree (in Divinity) here in Kolkata in the 1969. Every weekend during his time here in town he would go to Nirmal Hriday (better known as Kalighat) which is the home for the dying destitutes she founded there and work, often alongside Mother Teresa herself. Although my dad did not take us to that place of poverty and death, we went to the Mother House, where many of the sisters lived, to see if Mother Theresa was home. She was in, and although she had been in poor health, she came down from her room to meet with the whole family, greeting us all individually, praying with and blessing us.

Mother Teresa exuded an air of what I call “humble power.”  She was a tiny woman who didn’t even come up to my chin, height-wise, but she commanded attention.  However, she didn’t ask for the attention, seemed rather embarassed by it.  After we met her, it was time for the sisters to have evening prayer. Mother Teresa always attended too, of course, and we were able to go as well. She sat in the back of the room, and we sat near to her. It was an incredible experience, especially as I was quite religious when I was younger.

 

Three or four years later, when I was in college, I decided to spend a semester in India and I decided that I would really like to volunteer with the Missionaries of Charity myself. I began making preparations in the fall of my sophomore year for the next spring. That September, however, Mother Teresa passed away. Nonetheless, I continued my plans and went ahead with my semester abroad. While in India, I moved to Kolkata for 3 months, and was able to volunteer for the MC’s myself. I spent most of my time at Nirmal Hriday; however, I spent approximately two weeks at Prem Dan, another home here in Kolkata, which is much larger than Kalighat but has people who are usually not quite so sick. There are several other locations in Kolkata where the sisters have homes and work with the poor and/or ill. I was able to see many of them during my time here in the spring of 1998.

I stayed in a guest house in a church just across the street from the Mother house when I lived here in Kolkata and volunteered each day, taking a bus to work in the morning, helping care for the patients in the homes, helping feed them, clean the home, and do the laundry and dishes.  It was challenging, hot work, and difficult to see so much suffering in the world each day.

Today, I took the bus from Hiland Park and headed to the old neighborhood.  When I got to the Mother House, things were both the same as they had been and different.  Mother Teresa’s tomb is now in a room on the main level and admirers, tourists, and pilgrims come to see it.  They have converted the room next to that a small museum detailing her life and the founding of the Order.  Also, her bedroom has been preserved just as it was when she lived in it and visitors may ascend a set of stairs to the doorway of her room to look in and observe her quarters.  This, clearly, was not something I was able to do the first time I came to the Mother House, as Mother was occupying her room,  I remembered quite vividly seeing her come down from those stairs, however, and had imagined what her rooms were like for many years.

It was very moving for me to walk up them and to see where she had lived (no pics allowed up there, though).  It was a tiny little room, barely enough space for a desk and a bed.  It had a little window and an organizational system for her mail to the many locations and sisters she needed to send correspondence to.  She also had a map on the wall detailing everywhere the order had homes and missions.

When I stayed and volunteered half-a-year after her death, access had not yet been granted to her rooms.  I was lucky, however at that time to meet the nurse-sister, who had been by Mother Teresa’s side when she passed away, and to hear that story firsthand.  I was also able to briefly meet Mother’s successor, Sister Nirmala.  It was a good experience.

This afternoon, I sat by Mother’s tomb for quite some time.  I’m not religious anymore, but there was an interesting vibe in the room, of reverence and calm, as though remnants of that power she exuded remained.  It was peaceful.  Her tomb was decorated with flowers.  They were laid out on the top of the tomb to spell out the words “Jesus my All in All” below a bouquet of other flowers and a prayer box, where people could put slips of paper with their prayers written.

There were sisters who occupied benches by the head of the tomb.  They came and went, but there was always at least one or two there, praying.  I wondered how many minutes of the day actually passed without someone by the tomb.  Perhaps it is never unattended.

 

After visiting the museum section of the house, which chronicles the beginnings of the Missionaries of Charity and of Mother’s life, I left.  On my way out, I talked to one of the sisters at the door who had been there when I entered.  I had not arrived in time that day to talk to the volunteer coordinator.  I don’t have enough time to come back and volunteer after the weekend, and if I wait til the next volunteer registration time, I will have missed the chance to put in more than a day.  She said I could come in the morning and do the work and then register in the afternoon for the rest of the weekend.  I said that sounded great, and so it looks like I’ll be volunteering for the Missionaries of Charity for the next few days.  I’ll be glad to have the opportunity to help out again.

I’ve also got a lot of memories, some quite difficult, from that time frame.  It will be interesting to see how I handle being confronted with returning to the place where I saw so much hardship and that had made such an impression on me in my youth.  I hope I can be useful and make even a tiny little difference against the poverty and destitution so rife here in Kolkata.

After leaving, I crossed the street and revisited the church and guesthouse where I had stayed last time.  It was neat to see the campus and trigger a few more memories.  Then, I walked a long way back towards the center of the city, in the direction of my father’s old seminary.  From there, I decided to try and catch a bus home.  I ended up needing to take 3.  Sigh. Oh, India.

 May 13, 2014 @ 23:37

 

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Shanti Dan

So today I came to the Mother House by 7 am – just barely by seven.  Since I’m staying in Hiland Park, I’m quite far away from the side of town where I needed to be, so I  had to be up and at the bus station before 6.  I didn’t have any idea which bus number to take – you just have to ask the guy hanging out the bus side where it’s going.  I found one bus going to Science City and got on that.  When I got there (it’s the place I’d noticed while passing several days ago because it has a giant statue of a  tyrannosaurus rex on the street corner. I mean giant – we’re talking a couple of stories tall, here), so I knew it was on the way, and was a place I’d have to turn anyway.  I didn’t see any autos and there weren’t a whole lot of busses passing, so I went around the corner, in the direction I knew I needed to go.  I asked a likely looking fellow if I could catch a bus to AJC Bose Road from there.  He, as it turned out was going to the same place as me – literally to the same stop!  So he said I should follow along with him.  I was getting a little worried about time, and asked if we’d make it by 7.  He said no problem, and sure enough, we got there within a minute or two!  Thanks, guy!

When I got to the Mother House, I was directed somewhere to wait and talk to the sister who coordinated the volunteers.  I went back, thinking I’d be waiting in the corner of the courtyard, or an alcove for her to appear.  I was surprised to be told to continue on into the back room, which had formerly been off limits to non-sisters.  Now, it has been converted into a volunteer headquarters room.  Volunteers continued to gather in the room over the next 20 minutes or so and were given a breakfast of tea, a banana, and a couple of slices of bread.  Yay!  I love chai… I started chatting with a few of the people there.  After a while, a couple of sisters came in and led everyone in a prayer and song.  Then, they told people to head out to their assigned places.  I spoke with Sister, (as did a bunch of other people who had missed registration on Monday).  She told me to come to orientation that afternoon at 3 for sure, and asked if I could go to Shanti Dan today.  I said I’d be glad to go wherever they could use me!

Shanti Dan means Peace-Giving in Hindi or Bangla.  It is a home for women and girls, most of whom have mental or physical handicaps, such as cerebal palsy, autism,, severe mental handicaps, brain defects, etc.  Some are wheelchair-bound, or nearly completely immobile.  Some are also non-verbal.  It is located in a different part of town from the Mother House, so after those of us going there had all gathered, we headed down the road for a bit before arriving at the crossroads where we could catch a bus to near the home.   On the way there, I had a nice conversation with an American named Sarah, who is volunteering here and then working also in Cambodia for the next couple of years to rescue women from child trafficking.  Quite interesting.

When we arrived, we were shown into a room where we could keep our belongings and then were all given aprons and bandanas to wear.  We were given a tour of the school, and briefly helped to finish up the laundry.  Then, I had been assigned to help with the physical therapy on the women’s side (as opposed to the girl’s side).  I was sent into a room which had been divided into two sections.  In the back section of the room were a bunch of mats on the floor.  There were several women laid on the mats, with a couple sisters and volunteers helping them do exercises.  Mainly these people were unable to move themselves, so the therapy consisted of moving their arms and legs to prevent them from contracting, stiffening, and atrophying.  There was one physical therapist guy overseeing much of this.  I helped with a couple of women, but there were many volunteers that day, so we were tripping over one another a bit.  They sent me over to the other side of the room to help after I had exercised a couple of ladies.

That side of the room was set up like a classroom, but with only one long table and some kid-sized chairs.  The women who could move sat at the table.  The rest were brought in in their wheelchairs and were finished getting dressed after their baths, which were occurring in another room.  After spending a little time just hanging out with the women, who giggled and just were excited to interact with someone, the sisters had us help with their art class.  It was really more of an opportunity for the women to have tactile stimulation.  They were given clay to play with, or toys that stimulated their brains.

After a volunteer tea break, I returned to the classroom.  The sisters had us hand out an individualized book to each woman.  These little booklets had been made for each of them and included pictures of the girl, her name, and information about her.  We volunteers then went around and read the books to each woman, reading to her about herself, or telling her the story about what she like to do, and her hobbies, or interests.   It was good, I’m sure for the patient, to learn and know and remember, but also for the volunteers to know more about who they were interacting with, and how better to relate.

After the class was finished, it was time for the women to have lunch.  We helped get everyone moved into the dining area.  Then, many of the women needed to be physically fed, each bite.  It took quite some time to get this accomplished.  After lunch, it was naptime, so we helped move all the women into the sleeping areas.  By then, the morning was finished and it was time for the volunteers to leave.

We took the bus back to the Mother House as a group.  I had met a group of Americans who were from a university in Indiana that morning.  They invited me back to their hotel to have lunch with them.  It was just up the street from the Mother House, and since I had to return shortly for volunteer registration (as did they), it worked out perfectly.  As the rest of the group gathered, there was also a girl from France and an Indian guy named Ravi who had joined the group like me.

After lunch, went to the Children’s Home, Shishu Bhavan, just down the street from the Mother house where they do the volunteer intake.  I got registered, and stuck around for a while, going out for coffee with Ravi before finally heading back to Hiland Park.  Since I’m planning to leave the country soon, I’m only able to volunteer through the weekend.  Unfortunately this meant that the sisters weren’t going to put me in one of their wound care clinics or something where I’d need more training and be an asset over a longer period of time.  However, it did mean that the sister assigned me back to Kalighat, the home where I worked the majority of my time last time I was here in Kolkata, and the home where my father had worked.  I was happy about that.  Although Shanti Dan is okay, I had wanted to go back to Kalighat.

So the plan is to return Friday and do this all over again, only this time, I’ll be going to the Home for the Dying and Destitute, by the Kali Temple once again.  Should be interesting.  Thursdays, the sisters and the volunteers always have a day off, so my sister and I have planned to go to the flower market, down by Howrah bridge.  It’s a famous area of Kolkata, known to be bustling with activity in the mornings, and is said to be beautiful and interesting.  I know I only volunteered the one day so far, but I will be happy to spend a day off with my sister before working for the rest of the weekend.

On the way home from this very tiring day, I caught a bus, thinking it would get me close to where I needed to go.  It did not.  Eventually, when the guy came to take my money and I told him where I was going, he told me I was on the wrong bus.  So I got off and I wandered for a while before catching another bus, which also did not go where I wanted to go, even though I thought it would.  I walked some more and caught a third bus.  This one was pulled over by the police.  I’m not sure what happened, but I think the bus ticket guy paid the police officer and then the bus was allowed to continue on.  Oh the bribery system in India, ever-present and stupid.  Even this bus didn’t go where I needed to go, but it at least got me a little closer.   Finally, I was somewhere I could find an auto to take me to the vicinity of Hiland Park!  Now I only needed to take this auto and one more!  It looked as if I would be getting home after all!

Then the first auto I was in collided with a small bus/minivan-type vehicle.  Yep.  Total car accident in the intersection.  I was almost where I needed to be, by then too!  Luckily, no one and nothing was really hurt, so I got out (after we moved out of the middle of the intersection) and walked to the last auto stop.  I finally caught the last auto which took me to the entrance of Hiland Park.  What a ridiculous trip home.  Hopefully I can manage this better on Friday, cause I don’t think I have the energy to do this again!

 May 14, 2014 @ 23:46

 

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Down By The River

 

I’ve decided to leave India and spend a week in the Maldives before heading to Morocco.  The Maldives is a tiny cluster of islands located somewhere in the middle of the Indian Ocean, to the south and west of India.  It’s remote, beautiful, idyllic, and ridiculously expensive – especially compared to the prices I’ve gotten accustomed to here in India.  However, I know that if I want to spend any time at one of those “resort-y island places” I need to do it now, while I still have a little wiggle room in my budget, rather than later in my trip.  Also, I want to make it to Morocco in time to go to that music festival I heard about, but it’s not until later in June, and this will give me a stopover place to visit before heading to Morocco.  From there, I plan to “generally head back east again.”  I don’t think I’m going to go with one of those itinerary planned airline tickets.  I like having the spontenaity of choosing which country to go to next – I don’t want to pick the order and which countries I want to go to now, much less the exact dates.  After comparing, there wasn’t much difference between buying individually online and preplanning and sometimes changing dates.   So now, I need to find a ticket to the Maldives and a resort that will only cost me one limb, rather than an arm and a leg!

So, since I have a limited amount of time left in Kolkata, my sister and I decided to spend this morning together and visit the flower market together.  Thursday is the day the sisters and volunteers always take as a day off and my sister had cleared her schedule.  We left in the morning to get there while the markets were still open.  We knew that things usually wind down by late morning, so we hopped on an auto, the metro, and then a bus headed for Howrah Bridge – easy!  The flower market is located just underneath it.  (Of course, we stopped for a daab on the way!)

The market was beautiful, a jumble of colors and smells and sounds, as the people called out their wares and called to one another.  There were many stalls set up where people sold chains of flowers, ornate boquets, or flower arrangements.  Flowers were piled up for purchase individually, in bulk.  This seemed to be the place where flower vendors from all over town would come to purchase their flowers to sell for the day.

We weren’t hassled too much by the sellers because I think they could tell we weren’t there to purchcase anything. So (aside from a rather creepy trash can we encountered) we had a nice time walking around the market.

 

Then we walked down along the river.  There are many ghats as you go down, and we didn’t know which areas were for what.  Some areas are for bathing, some are funeral ghats, some are for washing.  We saw one area that had been clearly marked for ladies’ bathing, from an older era, which was interesting.

 

There are certain Hindu festivals here where people bring their idols, or decorated statuettes of the deities, and after having them in their homes, pandals, or altars for a time, they bring them to the river to immerse, along with prayers and festivities.  Sometimes, they are just left by the river, rather than put in it.  We passed many of these, in varying states of decay, which were fascinating.

After walking down the river quite a way, we decided to sit for a while and eat a snack.  We watched some ladies doing wash, and a little boy who was catching little fish with a homemeade net in the shallows.  There was a boat going  by with a few boys having the time of their lives, diving off the front of the boat into the river, catching onto a raft as the boat passed by, climbing back up, and doing it all over again.  The boats were clearly some sort of ferry that passed by routinely, so if one of them missed, the rest of the group would all jump down and they’d wait, swimming, for the next one.  It was fun to watch.  After a while, we headed back.  We walked across the Howrah Bridge, bustling with life and activity.  It was so busy and crowded, leading to the Howrah station entrance, one of the main hubs of Kolkata.  A fascinating part of town that we enjoyed seeing, and then catching a bus to leave!  We had a good morning down by the river.

 May 15, 2014 @ 23:20

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Return to Kalighat

I have worked the last two days now at Kalighat, or Nirmal Hriday.  This is the first home that Mother Tresa opened in Kolkata.  Having volunteered there in 1998 for a couple of months, I was glad when the sister told me to go back there this weekend.  I was interested to see if the place would be the same as in my memory. Sure enough, as I approached the door on the first morning, I smelled a familiar smell, the one I have always associated with death.  I think, perhaps it is the smell of the disinfectant used at Kalighat – a metallic-y, chemically smell – but I have always linked the two.  I steeled myself for the worst, and walked in.  Luckily, Friday was the day that the women’s side was being thoroughly cleaned, so the sight that greeted me wasn’t the normal sight of 50+ cots lined up with women in varying states of sickness.  Instead, all of the women patients were gathered in chairs in the front area of the women’s wing.  The cots and mattresses were all being cleaned and piled up and the floor was being swept and mopped.  We volunteers immediately pitched in, some helping with that, while others worked on the breakfast dishes.  After all the beds were made and dishes done, we moved on to the laundry.  The clothes and bed linens are all washed, wrung, and carried up onto the roof, where they are hung to dry.  I enjoy that part – always did.

From the roof, you can see the streets surrounding Kalighat, as well as the Kali Temple.  I remember my father telling me stories about how he could see the priests sacrificing the goats in the mornings in Kali Temple.  I’ve certainly never seen that – of course I’ve never been there that early in the morning, but the story is interesting.  And since I’d visisted Kali Temple earlier in my trip, I could distinguish the different areas of the temple that I’d seen then.  Also, I like the organizing aspect of hanging all the different types of laundry in separate areas of the roof, and this is a time when the volunteers occasionally get to chat a bit. For the most part, the work is to be done without any extra chatter.  We are supposed to focus on the service aspect of what we’re doing, rather than on meeting and greeting one another.  But it is nice to meet the other people around you.  I met a really nice girl from New Zealand who works on a farm, an Indian from Australia, and a guy from the US who coordinates volunteer trips for youths.  I enjoyed talking with them, for example, as we gathered in the mornings at the Mother House, on the bus on the way to Kalighat, and again during our chai breaks.

Because of my medical experience, the nurse/sister there allowed me to help with the dressing changes of a couple of the patients.  I was given a pair of plastic gloves.   Not hospital style, but the kind that you find deli workers wearing – large, clear, disposable, plastic kitchen gloves.  I was given one pair, to wear for all of the dressing changes on all of the patients.  We either helped them walk or dragged their chairs behind a small wall where the dressing supplies were kept.  There was a pitiful collection of  two or three different types of ointment, a handful of bandages, and a motley collection of dressings.  We pawed through the pile of dressings, looking at each type to see which one would best suit the wound before us.  Often, it was a pressure ulcer, sometimes a cut.  We’d pick the best option available, and clean the wound with a little saline.  Then, we’d apply some ointment (basically Neosporin) and redress the wound.  That’s all there was available.  It was so inadequate and depressing, I don’t even have the words to describe it.

Later, we fed all of the women their lunch, some by hand, some just distributing the plates and waters, then we did the dishes.  We spent a little time with the women, and helped them back to their beds before leaving for the afternoon.  Very busy, full mornings, both.  They were difficult, too.  The women reach out to you as you walk by, asking for things in a language I don’t understand.  I don’t have anything to give them, it seems.  Even getting water for them is sometimes difficult, as I had to track down a sister or ayah (caregiver girl) and either find out where the cups were or where to get water to refill the pitchers or where to clean the cups etc.

Towards the end of the first day, one lady pulled me down to sit by her on her cot and began speaking to me.  She held my hand as she talked, telling me many things.  Her eyes filled with tears as she spoke, telling me (I think) how she came to be here, how her life was difficult, but all in Bangla.  I think she talked about her health, wanting to get better and go, but to where?  She showed me scars from where she’d had surgery, telling how she was still having issues.  I could do nothing but empathize with my eyes, and with the wordless vocalizations Indians usually use, the “ah”s and “mmm”s that seem to be all that is required to hold up one end of a conversation.  She was happy with that, as she was getting her story off of her chest.  I didn’t even realize it was time for the volunteers to leave, that first day, I was so absorbed in her story, in her eyes.  When one of the volunteers came to get me, saying it was time to go, I said goodbye, promising to return, and I hurriedly got my belongings and rushed to go.  As I did, one of the sisters told me it had been good that I spent time with that patient, however, because apparently she rarely opens up or talks to anyone.  I was glad I could at least be there for her.  I was sorry that’s all I could do, though.  It seems like a pitifully small thing to do for someone – just lend them an ear and give them a smile, but that’s all I had to offer.

It seems, in India, like it’s difficult to know how to help.  The beggars have unions and are apparantly a giant scam to get money, so it’s rare that you want to give money to even the most pitiful on the streets.  There isn’t much you feel you are actively doing to help if you donate to charities, but when I come to help out at a place like this, I’m overwhelmed by the magnitude of the problem.  How many people there are out there, and how little there is that we can do!  Simultaneously, I am aware that I’ve become a bit jaded as a healthcare worker.  I see other volunteers rushing to help with things that I (and the ayahs and sisters who work there) don’t, saying the patient is fine and can do on her own.  I know I’ve been manipulated in the past by many patients who “play up their illnesses” when they are capable of doing more, and in fact do themselves a disservice by not being more independent.  But it is easy to become callous over time, rather than simply being tough occasionally in order to encourage independence.  Walking that fine line is a challenge.  I could see the disillusion and tiredness in several of the Sisters’ eyes.  They have the added difficulty of constantly training and retraining new volunteers, as well.    They have a tough job.

I was lucky that I was able to leave each afternoon and have time away.  One day, my sister and I met for lunch at a lovely tea shop.  The other day, the two French women who were couchsurfin for a couple of days with Andrew and Mike at the place I’m staying at cooked us all a delicious dinner – with crepes!  It was a nice way to break things up.

 

May 17, 2014 @ 1:18

 

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Sisters in Kolkata

Well yesterday did not go AT ALL as I planned – what day ever does?  However, it was quite a roller coaster.  I got up in the morning for my last day of volunteering at Kalighat.  I took the bus to the Mother House (only the 2 correct buses this time!) and arrived on time.  I had some tea and a banana. After morning prayers and songs, the Sister asks those whose last day it is volunteering to come to the front and everyone sings a “Thank You” Song (We thank you thank you thank you, we’ll miss you, we love you, from our hearts).  It’s really nice, and a great idea.   This wasn’t something we did when I volunteered in the past.  I think that it’s a great way to make the volunteers feel appreciated.  I noticed on the board in the volunteer room that there are sessions for the volunteers to get together and talk as well.  Anyway, most days there are quite a few people whose last day it is, but that day, it was only me and a guy I’d met the day before at Kalighat named Brandon.  He’s here with an NGO that will be working with young adults in northeast India. It was good to have someone else at the front of the room with me, (and while singing along I had someone to sing to, rather than just myself).

Afterwards, we all headed over to Kalighat.  I had been having problems with my lap band since the day before and I got another air bubble right before we left, but seemed okay again as we got to work.  The morning progressed as usual, doing laundry, hanging it on the roof, interacting with the women.  I asked the Sisters if they needed any help with the dressing changes and the Sister let me help with a big wound.  A woman had a diabetic ulcer on her foot that had progressed to a huge wound – you could see the tendons in her feet.  There were very few bandages to choose from, and only a couple of ointments.  Not the stuff she needed to treat her wounds appropriately.  She was very stoic about it, though, clearly depressed about the whole thing and not interested in anything anymore.  It sucked.

A little while later, the patient I had listened to the first day at Kalighat came to the women’s gathering area.  With the encouragement of one of the ayahs, she started singing and dancing.  Some of us clapped along.  She was adorable, and had put a pink duppatta (scarf) on over her hospital gown.  I was glad to see she was happy.  She really improved the mood in the room.

Since it was Sunday, the front foyer of Kalighat had been set up for Mass.  One thing I appreciate about the Missionaries of Charity is that they don’t proselytize to the people they help.  It isn’t a condition or requirement for their care that they come to the services and participate or listen to sermons or anything.  The Sisters are simply there to help them, not convert them to Christianity.  However, if the patients want to come to the service, they are more than welcome.  In a predominantly Hindu nation, that can be pretty important, and especially when they are ill or dying, people just want care, not lectures or attempts at conversion.  (I got the impression that not attending the mass wasn’t really an option for the volunteers, however).  So the Sisters and volunteers and a few of the patients had mass.  There were a few Brothers of Charity there and the father who did the sermon was from Italy (his accent was very strong).

Afterwards, the volunteers went to take our tea break.  I got another air bubble, and unfortunately was unable to keep my banana down.  I tried to fold some laundry and help out during lunch, but I had to excuse myself and go hang out where I was able to deal with my issues discreetly.  But frustratingly, it took up my time and I wasn’t able to do much else to help out and thus, my time at Kalighat came to an end.

As group of us volunteers headed to the metro together, I was still having trouble with my stomach.  The previous day had been ridiculously hot (I believe the heat index was around 110F (44C?). Yesterday was barely better, and with my nausea, and dehydration I felt so horrible I excused myself and took a cab to my sister’s house where I cried and promptly fell asleep. I was still hoping to see the other volunteers one more time at the volunteer appreciation event the Sisters were hosting that afternoon at Bishop’s House.

Unfortunately, when my sister woke me to see  how I felt a little while later, I was still not able to go to the volunteer event.  I would have enjoyed it.  These volunteer appreciation things were not something that was done when I came to work here in the past, and I am happy to see how the volunteer program has developed so much over the years.  I also would have enjoyed seeing the people I had gotten to know over the past week again.  Not all of them volunteered at the same home as I did each day.  Also, I know some of them were putting together some skits and songs to present.  I do know, however, that I can’t do everything, and sometimes have to pick and choose.

My sister and I spent some very mellow time together that evening.  We watched a movie and hung out in the A/C. We also called our mother and got her famous hot fudge recipe and made some to put on ice cream for a little taste of home!  I am very lucky that my sister is so supportive and great!  I don’t know what I would have done without her.  I had felt so terrible – physically, about how the volunteering ended, about missing the volunteer event, etc.  It was nice to have someone to talk to who knows and loves me.  The patients have the Sisters to care for them, but luckily, I’ve got my sister, and I’m extremely happy with that!

May 19, 2014 @ 11:53

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Seeing (and hearing) Stars

I have a ticket to the Maldives on the 21st (of May!).  I will be there until the 29th.    So I’ll be leaving India in only a few days!  My sister and I are trying to spend some time together before we don’t see each other again for who-knows-how-long.

Jayanthi and I both love planetariums.  In the US, when you go to a planeterium, the show is often better than an IMAX.  Over your head is a 180º domed screen which makes you feel like you are flying through space.  The last show I saw was in Boston, where a show I saw about moons (not just ours, but moons throughout the solar system) and their formation and effects, narrated by Ed Helms, was awesome.  I felt like I was floating above the planets, watching moons rise, hovering in space as planets and moons had their births.  These days, the projection equipment at the planeteriums is so state-of-the art, there are so many pixels and the picture is so life-like, it’s incredible.

When we decided to go to the Birla Planetarium in Kolkata, we weren’t expecting India to be quite so state-of-the-art.  We were not, however, prepared for the experience that awaited us.  We arrived at the time of an English presentation, and purchased our tickets for a whopping Rs. 40 (approx. 60 cents) each.  When we came into the room, we selected our seats, normal planetarium seats, if a bit rickety.  We were delighted because the room was cooler than outside.

Then, a woman took the microphone and began speaking.  I thought she was introducing the show, as people do.  She had a THICK Indian accent when she spoke in English – I had to really concentrate to understand her, and I normally have little difficulty understanding people with an Indian accent.  Like a strict schoolmarm, she instructed everyone to “switch off their mobiles” and that everyone was expected to sit silently and listen.  She lectured everyone that people who cannot control their children should not come. Up until then, the skyline of Kolkata had been projected on the base of the domed screen.  The moment the sun was projected onto the dome, a young child gasped in excitement.  The woman stopped immediately, yelling, “SILENCE IS EXPECTED!”  As the parents shushed their excited child, she resumed her talk, projecting the sun’s path across the dome and making the night come. I don’t think the child was dared comment when the stars came out.
She spoke rather slowly, over-enunciating her words to the point of awkwardness as she continued the presentation, which was not (as my sister and I had hoped) to be a video show, but rather this lady with what was essentially a slide projector on a domed screen. She showed the night stars and projected images of the different constellations over them, mentioning the names of the constellations, both Western and Indian.  Here, when we would’ve been happy for her to slow down, she sped up and breezed through the different Indian names for the constellations, before flashing on to a different slide.  She interrupted herself regularly, to yell at the audience.  “SILENCE IS EXPECTED!” was her favorite, but “SILENCE YOUR CHILDREN!” and the old standby of “I WILL WAIT UNTIL YOU ARE SILENT!” were utilized frequently as well.  We had an awkward few minutes when she yelled at someone, “WHY HAVE YOU SWITCHED ON YOUR MOBILE?!?” and waited for their reply (which was not forthcoming, hence the awkward silence). After a 40-minute lecture/yell on the basics of the night sky, we left, our ears ringing.  My sister and I felt like we had been properly chastened (not sure what we’d done wrong, though).  We walked through the planetarium and looked at the very interesting paintings in the building, with Hindu gods and goddesses in the cosmos before heading outside, and indulging ourselves in a good laugh.  I guess for 40 Rupees, we got what we paid for.

We went to a restaurant I had remembered from the past for dinner.  I’d been wanting to go since I’d returned to Kolkata. Only trouble was, I couldn’t remember what it was called or where it was located.   I’d had a name (I thought), and a general location, but it was hazy.  I did remember they had delicious thaalis, though!

During my explorations of the Newmarket area over the past week or so, I finally stumbled upon it.  I took a picture, hoping to come back (since I found it just as I was leaving a place where I’d had dinner, of course).  It was called North and South Indian Restaurant, not Kamala, as I’d thought.  But it has a giant sign out front advertising Kamal Ice Cream, so I guess it’s to be expected that I assumed it was called Kamal-something.  So Jayanthi and I went there – I was even able to find it again! It was tasty food – no Nizam’s, but pretty good for what it was.  We enjoyed ourselves.

Then, after dinner, we decided to swing by The Fairlawn (it’s only a few blocks away, after all)!  And of course, we met Neel!  So we had a delightful time with Neel – and the three of us even ran into Sweetie, who I had met the first time with Neel.  Jayanthi and Neel get along great, which I knew would happen, so we had a great time and Neel even gave us a ride home at the end of the evening.  We made plans to try and meet tomorrow to go to Nizam’s since I’m leaving in a couple of days.  Yay, this was a good day!

May 19, 2014 @ 23:32

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She Moves On…

Yesterday I got a final dose of Nizam’s before leaving Kolkata.  First, I met up with Neel.  He and his driver picked me up near my apartment, which was awesome because it worked out timing-wise and it was really hot and saved me from catching a bus and then the subway.  Unfortunately, we had some car issues on the way there, but it didn’t cause too much trouble and we were on our way again in no time!  All part of the Adventure that is India.  Neel, you are so great – I’m so glad we met!

We met my sister, Aakash, and two of his friends from New Zealand, Julius and Paul.  Julius was here to play music with Aakash.  We all had a delightful lunch at Nizam’s (when is food there not delightful, really?)

Afterwards, we all split up to run different errands.  I had to go to the store to pick up supplies because I wanted to cook dinner that night for Andrew, Sheela, and Mike to thank them for hosting me.  Jayanthi was free and so she was able to come over for dinner as well.  She and Aakash had graciously offered to let me stay there last night so she could help me pack up before I left India, and since my flight was the next day it would be easy enough for me to leave for the airport from her place.

I gathered all the supplies I needed and headed back to Hiland Park for the last time to cook one of my specialties – a random mediterranian dish.  I made pasta and chicken with olives and tomatoes and basil (picked fresh from the grounds at Hiland Park) and mozzarella, as well as eggplant caprese.  It’s always challenging cooking in someone else’s kitchen, with different utilities and utensils.  But I enjoy cooking and haven’t gotten to do it lately, so I really enjoyed myself.

Dinner was really enjoyable, as was my entire stay with Andrew, Sheila, and Mike.  I was sorry to leave.  One thing that came out of the visit though, is really positive!  Since Andrew is writing a book as part of his thesis, he and I talked about me working with him after he finishes (which should coincide with the end of my travels) on an audiobook version of his book!  If that works out, it would be so incredible, as it would give me experience in what I want to do and give him another media for his book.  Super-awesome…so, fingers crossed that that works out!

So Jayanthi and I worked last night at packing up my stuff (and streamlining it, which was the most challenging!)  Then, she and I went out this morning and ran a couple last-minute errands.  This afternoon, Jayanthi and Aakash walked me to a taxi and sent me off.  It was very difficult saying goodbye to them.  I had such a great time with them here in India.  They were so hospitable to me and I enjoyed the experiences we had.  I loved traveling with Aakash’s band as a groupie for a while, and seeing him expanding his music.  I loved traveling and spending time with Jayanthi, especially in the northwest – Meghalaya was incredible!  We even got in a game or two of Settlers of Cattan, something we all enjoy, I must confess.  It’s hard to believe our time together began with the fun of Holi over two months ago!

It was a rough parting as well because we don’t know exactly when we’ll see each other again.  They don’t know if they’ll be in India next year or not, so even if I come back through India again on my travels, they may not be here.  There is every possibility that it will be a year before I see them.  I get choked up just thinking about it.  Thank goodness for Skype and email!    When I was eleven and lived in India for 4 months without my family (I stayed with relatives, just not my immediate family), it used to take up to two weeks for a letter to reach to/from home, if it came at all.  My mother used to number her letters, so we’d know if any didn’t make it.  I think we spoke two times on the telephone the entire time I was gone.  It wasn’t much better in 1998 when I was here, although email changed things a bit, we still wrote letters a lot.  How things have changed!

I am on my way to the Maldives now.  I booked a week at one of the resorts there.  The Maldives is a bunch of islands in the Indian Ocean.  Unless you stay in Male, which is the capital, and doesn’t offer a whole lot, you have to go to Male and then take another plane or boat to a different island.  Most of these islands are resorts, and only resorts – they are uninhabited otherwise.  So I booked through one of those, Gangehi Resort, and they help arrange your transportation from Male (for a nominal-ish fee).

Unfortunately, though, in my quest for a cheaper ticket, I booked one with more stops than I realized.  I have a couple of stops and a layover before I leave India.  Then, I have to stop in Male.  Then, I have to get on the other plane to go to Gangehi.  Crazy.  I don’t actually get there until tomorrow.

I’m excited to go to the Maldives, though.  Every picture I’ve ever seen of it looks ridiculously beautiful, and I hear the scuba diving is great, so maybe I can brush up my skills there!  Also, I feel like India was only the beginning stepping stone for my world travels, and so now my real adventure is just beginning….

World, here I come!

May 22, 2014 @ 3:29