Nagercoil, India: 2007
June 22: Welcome to Delhi
So now it's Saturday morning, about 9:00. I got to the hotel about 8 hours ago, slept much of them, and feel almost human.
My Newark flight over was delayed 3 hours (weather) so we didn't actually leave until almost midnight, though we'd been on the plane since 9:30. Pilot said he'd make up some of the time, but wouldn't be able to make up all of it. So we arrived 2 hours and 55 minutes late. I guess 5 minutes constitutes "some" in Pilot.
Arrival was interesting. Very efficient getting through all the immigration/customs (the Indians did learn from the British), and then....the gantlet. Looking for the hopeful sign "Mr. Pilgrim" held up by a driver from my hotel, which was "supposed" to be arranged. But as I expected, no such luck. So, off to the taxi stand. Before that, found an ATM, got some Indian money (had to really concentrate on the multiple to be sure I got $100 worth instead of $1000 worth, but managed to keep the 0 in the right place), then back to the taxi office.
Turns out no one knew where the Tara Palace Hotel is. It's a bit small, in the Old Delhi part of the city, so numerous people looked at the address, frowned, asked someone else, then someone else, all the time assuring me "get in, no problem." They determined the price, and off I went. (Only later did I discover that the dispatcher had pulled the old "you gave me 100 instead of 500" trick which, being somewhat glazed, I fell for. So he made a quick 400 rupees off my glazed nature--about $10--but if I'm feeling mellow, he needs it far worse than I do.)
So we pull out of the airport, go a short way, and stop...at a gas station. "Need gas." And at midnight, it's actually got a line, since only 1 pump was working. After much sitting, further consultations about where the hotel is, etc. and a few questions from me, back into the taxi, filled with gas, and off we go.
Not all that long a drive, probably around 30 minutes, but it got progressively less busy. Finally got into the neighborhood of the hotel (I could see the neon sign above it from a few blocks away) and then to figure out how to get to it. Numerous starts/stops/backing up/turning around, all with lots of honking (DWH--driving while honking--seems to be the norm), eventually stop and a man comes to the window, says "I'll lead you there" and does.
Turns out the "front" door is on an alleyway, off the "main" road which is part of a very busy open-air market. Except at midnight, of course, all the stalls are closed, and their owners (or employees) are sound asleep in the open air, lying on the ground or on their carts. Very quiet, of course.
Into the hotel, warmly welcomed, learn that niece Linda hasn't arrived (subsequently learn on an e-mail, picked up from the computer in the lobby that I'm using) that she's at another hotel. (Update: she called me first thing this morning and is "on her way over" as I write and we'll join up for breakfast.) Up to bed, and to sleep quite easily actually.
Hotel is quite pleasant. Wasn't sure it had anything but cold water and was braced for it this morning, but then realized it had some non-cold water (which is different from tepid or certainly, from hot) which struck me as a wonderful improvement over cold. (Set the bar low, John.) So I feel clean, rested (sort of), ready for breakfast (hurry up, Linda) and ready to do some exploring.
More later after we do some touring. All for now.
June 23: “’Allo, ‘Allo”
Had a good day exploring Old Delhi. Our hotel is in the heart of the old part of the city, by my choice, so it gave us an easy way to explore on foot.
Linda called this morning to say she was on her way over. The hotel continues to be perplexed and amused by our relation. They are perplexed because we have the same name, assume she is my daughter or wife, and wonder why we have separate rooms. I keep saying "niece" but that doesn't seem to communicate. (And today, I remember the "Pretty Woman" movie, one of my favorites, where Julia Roberts says she is Richard Gere's "niece"--doubt they've seen the movie, so I'm not too concerned.)
A few hours later (things simply take longer, especially when drivers aren't exactly certain of the location), and after breakfast, we headed off for the Red Fort, a distinctive site that is advertised as "just across the road" from our hotel.
Crossing the road or street is a life-threatening adventure. Traffic is non-stop, composed of cars, trucks, buses, pedicabs, bicycles, motorbikes, motorcycles, and people on foot. There are occasional crosswalks, but these seem to merely serve as advertisements for where larger groups of pedestrians can be struck with ease. And in case that isn't enough, traffic is on the opposite way from home--India was British after all. So I've adopted the hostage approach--keeping a local between me and the oncoming vehicle, as much as possible. Has worked so far. I have crossed roads and haven't been hit (by a vehicle, at least.)
The Red Fort was built in the 17th century, by a Moghul emperor, and served as the seat of political power for a while before the empire fell apart. Several buildings, some open park land, and a great respite from the hubbub of the city. All surrounded by a wall, giving a sense of peace and (relative) quiet inside.
Was interested to see that everyone was searched--a complete pat-down for all, plus going through a screening thing. (Had a feeling of being groped, but probably only in my imagination. And decided there wasn't anything I could do about it anyway.) No TSA, but it felt like it (but I didn't have to take off my shoes.)
After a break, we headed off to Chandi Chowk, a main thoroughfare a couple blocks from our hotel. Main mission was to explore and ultimately, to find some lunch. Mission was accomplished. Teems of people along the sidewalk and street, incredible variety of stalls and shops, food being prepared everywhere, constant hawking/urging/offering to "help"/'allo, what's your name". Mostly it was neutral or mildly friendly, and persistent. A couple of times it was mildly hostile, and persistent. (Interested to know that the middle digit is universal, apparently, at least judging from it being flipped at me by someone when I didn't respond to his entreaties.)
Did manage to find one of the restaurants we were looking for (recommended by Lonely Planet Guide, which Linda kindly brought along.) Turned out to be a wonderful choice. Self-serve, which was fun, and they had some dishes pictured and others on display, so I could make a better choice. Chose something Northern Indian called majarajah thali or something like that. Couldn't begin to tell you what all was on it, but it was quite tasty. Of course, the cubes I thought were chicken turned out to be tofu. (And Dora, unlike Wesley, I didn't spit it out. But unlike you and Ethan, I wouldn't say I enjoyed it, either.) A good meal all in all. I really do love eating local, even if I don't know what that is.
After another break, wandered around some more in the neighborhood. It is an endless mass of stalls selling anything you can imagine, and many things I can't. But if I was in the market for bicycle or rickshaw parts, or for steel balls, this is the neighborhood to be in, judging from the abundance of shops selling those things. One advertises "all types of steel balls." Another simply advertises "steel balls." (Maybe the latter is a specialty shop?)
Walked to and around a huge mosque a couple of blocks from here, then along some more streets with all kinds of live animals for sale (including birds--bird flu?) or simply hitched up.
Tonight, I went back to the Red Fort for their sound and light show. It was a review of Indian history, starting with the building of the fort in the 17th century and continuing through to the 2nd independence in 1947. Lots of sound, lots of drama, a little lights focusing on various buildings. A bit hokey, but pleasant sitting outside on a nice summer evening. Temperature had gone down to about 91 (according to my clock which has a thermometer as well) and there was a nice breeze.
Tomorrow, we're going to hook up with the son of a longtime friend of ours who is working in India in microfinancing. He's going to show us around another part of the city, which will be fun in part because he knows more, having lived here for about 6 months. Later in the day, we'll move hotels out to one near the airport, meet the rest of our group, and we fly out early Monday.
June 25: Long Day’s Journey….
I have arrived at Kanyakumari, my home for the next 12 days. Today began at 4:30 with breakfast being delivered to our rooms, then a quick trip to the airport for an early morning flight--1300 miles, one stop (Coche), and 4 hours later we arrived in Trivandrum. Then onto a bus for the 50 mile/4 hour drive to Kanyakumari (with a stop along the way for a great lunch--I could almost become a vegetarian if we knew how to cook the way they do) and we are here. Checked into our room (which looks out on the water--what a life!) and immediately headed to find an internet place, which I obviously did, since shortly we'll have our orientation meeting and dinner and whatever else they can think of.
The contrast between here and Delhi couldn't be greater. Except for the evidence of poverty, there is nothing here that resembles Delhi. Green, lush, the sort of place you'd have to fight to keep things from growing. Banana trees, rice fields, palm trees swaying. Periodically you see the water on one side, some low mountains on the other. Low houses all along the highway, some with thatch roofs, some tile, some metal, some flat. Much lower population density, of course. Lots of busyness, it being Monday. And lots of Driving With Horn, which seems to be the national pastime. But best of all, space and air, even if it's hot (in the low 90's) and humid (in the 80's or higher.) Tropical breeze blowing constantly which does help. In short, it's an amazing change. And so different from my (ignorant) image of India.
Had sort of a transition day yesterday in Delhi. Spent some nice time with Mark, the son of longtime good friends from our Philadelphia days, who is working in India for at least this year in the field of microcredit investment. Very interesting to learn about what he's doing, and to get a bit of an insider's perspective on what's happening in India, at least from one informed vantage point. He also showed us around a little of the area before we had to part in order to get out of our Delhi hotel and move to another one near the airport.
Got out to the airport hotel and we were the only ones who had arrived thus far. Absolutely nothing to do in the neighborhood so we just chilled for a while. Eventually went to dinner a couple of hotels down the road and waited. Finally, about 11:00, the rest of the group (or almost all of them) arrived, having just flown in from the U.S. Felt some relief since our leader had all the air tickets for today's flight and I wasn't quite sure what I'd do if she didn't show up. But she did, they did, and all's well (though a couple who was supposed to meet us today didn't show up--don't know where they are, or when they'll arrive. Fortunately, not my problem--just one of the many, many reasons I decline even thinking about being a group leader.)
Several years ago I realized that every time I ate pizza, my glasses slid down my nose. Some years later, our first time in Santa Fe, I discovered that when I had Southwestern food, the back of my head got extraordinarily sweaty, as did my forehead. Subsequently have learned that each country's cuisine leads to another pattern for me. Chinese tended to be top of head and back of head, African was lips and back of head, etc. Learned last night that Northern Indian was still another pattern--back of the head (sweat running down my back), mouth-on-fire, and nose running. Fortunately, none of this lasts very long.
I always enjoy seeing ads in different countries because of what they say about what's important. Saw a couple last night that were interesting. One was for Nivea whitening cream for men. The other was for water purification system, complete with Monday's water being brown, Tuesday's being non-existent (apparently, having purified non-existent water is better than merely having non-existent water) and Wednesday's was yellow. All to "encourage" you to consider getting a purifier. I'm so encouraged.
Tomorrow begins the real purpose for being here. Don't know anything about our project yet--that comes in an hour at our orientation session. But I look forward to it.
Enough for now. Best to all, from the southernmost tip of India.
June 26: Good Start
Having significant internet problems this evening, so it's anyone's guess whether I'll get this done and off. First place said "not working--tomorrow night" but when I went past a couple minutes later, they were closed, meaning they really just wanted to close. Second place wasn't open. Wandered around looking for the third, finally found it, and it/we're having connection problems. But at least I'm trying!
Had a good first day and the promise of many more. In a number of ways, this looks to be possibly my best GV construction experience. There are a number of homes in various stages at our work site, meaning there should be ample work for all at all times. Getting materials doesn't seem to be a problem. And the project is incredibly well organized, with seemingly great supervision and leadership. And to top it off, we're scheduled for 10 full days of construction, which is more than I've had before. There are also a number of local people working at the site, which makes it more interesting. Especially since many of them speak at least some English. I am happy.
We had a full orientation last night, then some more this morning with the obligatory introduction of various local staff. We are working in a small village within the nearby city of Nagercoil. The land actually is owned by the local Catholic church and is being donated(!) to the new homeowners. A total of 30 homes are planned, and 15 are currently underway. The standard home is 200 square feet--about the size of a 1 car garage--and consists of a living room, 1 bedroom, a kitchen and a toilet room. They will have electricity, but no water within the house. Government drinking water is piped into the village and is drawn from various faucets spread throughout. Non-potable water is obtained from a well in the village, used for bathing at the central bath area plus for cleaning within each house. The houses are built of brick, which is then plastered over and painted. (I always have to keep reminding myself that all housing is contextual--it depends on what you have before you can fully appreciate what you'll be moving up to.)
Habitat in Kanyakuria began about 10 years ago. They have built over 1000 houses so far, and are proceeding at a pace of 200 or so more each year, now that the first loans are getting paid off. And the need expanded exponentially with the tsunami several years ago. While the tsunami didn't hit nearly as hard on this coast as it did Indonesia, the water wall was still more than 100 feet high, coming in 3 waves spread over about 30 minutes. Over 30,000 homes were destroyed (about 15% of the district) and almost 1,000 people are known to have died.
Habitat undertook a project to help those directly affected by the tsunami (i.e. those who lost their home or had it seriously damaged) and those who indirectly were affected, mostly by losing their livelihood--fishing. The village we're building in is the latter category. So much to my surprise, I'm actually doing some work related to the tsunami.
Today I spent some of my time doing one of my favorite activities--bricklaying--and then also did some hauling (sand, bricks.) I'm always interested in people who say they're looking for a task to do, I let them do a round of mine, and then they say "I'm looking for a task to do." Guess I don't have the Tom Sawyer touch.
Anyway, kept busy, quite satisfactorily, and enjoyed interacting with the various people around the village--workers, other residents, etc.
Weather here continues to be the usual--highs in the upper 80's, lows in the mid-70's, but the pleasant surprise to me is that despite the high humidity, it's tolerable for working, perhaps because there's a wonderful breeze all the time. Being surrounded on 3 sides by water does that.
Kanyakuria is your typical beach town, except add poverty and therefore, beggars. Myriad of little shops selling trinkets and other crapola, people sellng postcards and maps, food stalls selling french fries and ice cream, etc. And then there's the persistent beggars, which reminds me I am really in a poor country.
We'll have a full day of work tomorrow--no more "orientation" sessions. Looking forward to it.
June 27: Morning Coffee
Many of you know that I'm a coffee hound. Love my 4 cups each morning, with cream of course (what's the point otherwise?), all decaffeinated. So I was surprised and pleased to discover that coffee is quite readily available in India, too. Only it's better. Comes automatically with steamed milk and sugar, and caffeinated (what's the point otherwise they think?)
Each night I go to sleep to the sound of the surf coming in steadily outside my window. Each morning, around 5, the rooster crows at first light. And by 6, it's sunrise and I'm fully awake. Breakfast isn't until 8. So yesterday, I went out for a walk with a couple of other guys, down to the beach at the point, and discovered the "Last Coffee Shop in India" as the sign said. We partook happily. Had a small cup of steaming wonderful coffee for the price of 12 cents. Sitting on the beach, looking at the sunrise, watching the town come awake and the shops open (yes, at that hour, they're beginning to open!), having a cup of coffee. Doesn't get any better than that.
This morning, same routine, only I went out by myself and wandered in a different direction. Out on the jetty, then back by the Catholic church where they were finishing up the 6:15 daily mass with wonderful singing coming from inside, back towards the hotel on another street also coming to life, then back by another coffee stand that was already busy with a steady stream of people. Joined them, had another wonderful cup, larger this time, and cheaper--about a dime. Then to breakfast, for 5 or 6 more cups (they're small cups), by which time I'm truly flying. But I work it off well before bedtime.
One of the many food delights here are the fresh fruit, locally grown. Especially mangoes and bananas (there are 25 kinds of banana grown in this area.) The only down side is I'll never feel the same way about them at home again. Something about locally grown, tree ripened, picked at the peak of ripeness, trucked no more than a few miles away, and served fresh. It doesn't get any better. Had some with plain yogurt at breakfast this morning, some with local honey at lunch today.
Other food is good and fairly predictable. Chicken in some form (usually curry, in a gravy, and either parts or chunks), plain rice, rice with fruits and vegetables, noodles or french fries, mixed vegetables, a lentil based dish, and of course, nan. I'm loving it. Even the fairly repetitive nature of it (both lunch and dinner are similar, except lunch is cold, having been prepared at the hotel and taken out with us in the morning.)
Many of you know that my favorite building activities are bricklaying and roofing. Brick laying on a roof? Construction nirvana. The homes we're building have flat roofs, serving as decks for laundry, sitting out, or sleeping in summer. The deck is surrounded by a low brick wall and reached by a brick outside staircase. So when the opportunity came to do some brickwork on the roof? I jumped (well, I guess climbed) at it. That was this morning's work. After lunch, since that was done, I was moved to moving dirt. Hard work, not nearly as much fun, but enjoyable in its own way. No mental effort needed--nothing about plumb lines, level, enough/too little/too much mortar, etc.
I always seem to end up working with the team member that I least like. This year's candidate is a chirpy young woman from Iowa whose passions are the Iowa State University Cyclones ("Go Clones!") and some sort of dancing that involves sparkly outfits. She pulls this helpless female act whenever a task comes up that she doesn't want to do, like go downstairs to get some tools or shovel the dirt. I'm understanding why she's single.
At home Habitat, the ice cream man comes around regularly, playing the awful jingle and trying to lure us to buy something. Many often succumb. Today the local ice cream man came by, on his bicycle, with a cooler strapped to the back fender and a crow-sounding noisemaker. Some things are universal, but no one succumbed.
The basic floor in the homes we build is concrete, but many homeowners put in a slight upgrade, usually a gift from their family or employer. The upgrade? Marble. It's quarried locally, so there's no transport cost. Think about it. Marble floors as standard.
Today's weather improved--it was cloudy much of the day. Thunder in the distance (the monsoon has begun but largely already moved well north of us) but no rain here. Though the temperature was still in the upper 80's, the clouds and wind made working conditions much more tolerable.
The common dress for men in the area, older and younger, both in town and on the job site, is something called a lungy. It's a piece of material, wrapped around the waist and gathered up above the knees (except for formal occasions, when it hangs down to the ankles) and looks wonderfully cool. I'm sure there's an art to wrapping/gathering it without exposing oneself, but I suspect it's learnable. I'm urging us to go native, but won't unless all (or most) of us do. Not willing to make that much of a fool (or exhibitionist, perhaps) of myself. But it would be cooler.
The good news is that because the lungy is common, there's no cultural issue about men wearing shorts. I bought some calf length ones in Hong Kong that are very light weight quick-drying material and work wonderfully for construction here. But a lungy would be better.
All for now. Time to go back and get some dinner. And some Kingfisher Strong beer, which is wonderful.
June 29: Kids, Flies & Moonlight
Another good 2 days on the constructon site. Spent yesterday morning finishing up moving the stone, then we "graduated" to moving the sand. It's hard physical work, but you see the results (one pile grows smaller, the other larger) and it gives you time to chat in between since there's no brain power required.
This morning, I shifted to plastering. They plaster over all the brick walls, inside and outside. None of this "exposed brick" that we value so highly. I asked about that. The plaster serves to help strengthen the walls (not a bad idea) as well as helping keep out the water (also not a bad idea.)
Plastering involves a sequence of steps,all involving various types of light touch with the tools and various ways of holding them. The masons were very patient in teaching/showing/encouraging, but it still was slow work. So I shifted back to moving sand in the afternoon.
As time passes, take in more and more of the things around us. Like goats. They're all over--in the village, on the streets, all over. And their kids, of course. I asked about their purpose--milk, meat, whatever. They are used for milk, especially for younger children since goat milk is thought to be sweeter. (I can't assure anyone of that. My grandfather had a goat so when we visited, we had to drink goat milk. It smelled. My sister complained, so our grandfather got her cow milk. But not the grandsons. She also got double-dip ice cream cones at Brady's, to our single dip. But that's another story.)
They are also used for meat. According to the team member who is Hindu, there is a Hindu god in every animal, which might help explain the high vegetarian rate. But apparently some animals/gods are more equal than others, so some can be eaten, and that includes goats.
After work and cleaning up yesterday, we went back to Nagercoil for dinner and shopping. The main focus was a store noted for its sarees. Most everyone bought one--for themselves, their wives, their fiances, their girl friends. I didn't. (I did say I thought about buying one for my girl friend but was afraid Anne would mind.) But it was interesting to see the labor intensive process of retail. Couldn't follow all the steps between picking out and walking out with it, but it involved several different people, all handling the merchandise and eventually the money, packing it up, etc. Labor is cheap, employment is important.
I noticed this morning that there seem to be many more flies around. Don't know whether that's a change in the weather, a change in my awareness, or perhaps I'm becoming more of a fly magnet.
Balloons are universal magic. We worked later today so we could be there when the children came home from school. We had some balls to play with, and a frisbee. And I brought a package of 25 balloons. And they were magic. Began blowing them up, one at a time, handing them to the growing number of eager children. Even a few adults gathered around, trying to get one for their "child." I had sort of anticipated that and intentionally only brought 25. In Mexico, I had 100, and nearly passed out from blowing them up individually.
So I'm sitting on the rooftop of our hotel (where we have some of our dinners--we can have beer up here, not in the restaurant), with a beer at my side, typing on Charly's laptop which is connected to the internet through his cell phone, with a full moon outside. It doesn't get much better than this.
June 30: Little Things
Well, the mantra around GV trips is "be flexible." So I actually do that pretty well. Today's example is schedule. Turns out that they never actually planned to build on Saturday---that's just what the printed schedule said. We actually are off for the weekend. So this morning, we took a (short) boat trip to the temple built on a rock in the harbor that has some spiritual qualities to it. Actually quite interesting and pleasant. Probably the most interesting thing to me was the sunrise calendar--a sundial that indicates the time of the sunrise at that location every day of the year. I want one for our deck. I've long been fascinated by the measurement of time, the ebb and flow of the sun and moon, etc. so the concept of visually seeing the changing sunrise time and its duality during the year really speaks to me. Of course, would have to have it configured for my exact latitude and longitude. But I'm sure that's a Google-able matter.
A little later this afternoon, it's off for one of my least favorite activities--visiting an orphanage. Did this in Ecuador, too, and it felt very much like the orphans were being paraded out to be seen by the visitors. Probably isn't really that bad, but it felt like it. Was thinking about not going, but then learned that we'd be eating dinner in that city, too, (Nagercoil again) so my choice was orphanage/dinner with group/different restaurant or no orphanage/dinner alone/hotel restaurant. We leave at 3:30.
The basic condition here is wet. I expected that, of course, when working. I sweat profusely--my clothes are soaked through very quickly and I am a point of curiosity with the locals, who don't seem to sweat. (I gross them out when I wring out my t-shirt of sweat.) But even just standing around, or worse yet, wandering around town, I'm wet because of the high humidity and temperature. (In Delhi, it was drier but much hotter, so I was wet there, too.) Ah well--I'll be dry when I get home.
We get a newspaper under our door daily. "The Hindu." Actually probably not a bad paper, and it's interesting to see a few of the international stories with an Indian perspective. The weather forecast is also interesting. Today's was "pleasant day, cloudy sky." Can't remember when I've read "pleasant" and "cloudy" in the same forecast, but I agree. (Unfortunately, they are equally accurate as at home--this afternoon is quite clear, sunny and not at all cloudy.)
We are in Tamil Nadu state. The dominant ethnicity/culture/language is Tamil. They have a most curious way of signalling affirmative agreement. It can best be described as what bobblehead dolls do. I've tried doing it, to be met with much laughter from the local women. Probably will translate better when real Tamils aren't around.
I've acquired a new food love--lassi. It's a yogurt drink, sweetened with sugar (or elsewhere, mango), and cool. It's a wonderful drink after a hot spicy meal, or while walking around on a typical hot day (though I won't try it in the sidewalk stands.) I'm thinking there's a market for this in the ice cream shops of the States. (Ralph's needs to add Indian to its wonderful Italian ice cream products.)
About time to head back and get ready for the orphanage. Best to all. Hope you have a nice weekend.
July 1: Why?
The visit to the orphanage went about as I expected. We were greeted by a swarm of children, all with politely smiling faces, all looking eager and "encouraged" to be on their best behavior. We played with them just a little, then set them off on a drawing task, then had them present their drawings and be grateful for the trinkets we brought in return--a balloon, a few chocolates, and a noteback for school that we left with the director. Can't articulate precisely why this whole thing bothers me, but it does, and yesterday didn't dissuade me from this view.
One of the enduring images from the movie "A Passage to India" is the rain. I sort of hoped to experience a little of the monsoon rains, if only to confirm the reality of the image. But fortunately for us, the monsoon has moved well north of us. Still, several different times yesterday, we experienced a mini version of it. The sky clouds over without any perceptible wind (I think the clouds just "form"), the heavens open up with hard, straight-down rain for 15-30 minutes, it stops and the steam rises from the street. During the rain, most activity stops--you take cover and wait, knowing that it will pass shortly (not true of the actual monsoon, of course.)
Our group is one of the more cohesive I've experienced. There are 14 of us, including one couple. Evenly divided men/women. Pretty uniformly distributed across the age brackets from the 20's to the 60's with all segments being represented. A variety of professions (teachers, lawyer, IT people, retirees, free lancers, current/recent students.) Mostly from the U.S. but one couple from London, another guy native Indian who has lived in the U.S. for the last 20 years and another guy who is Japanese-American and raised mostly in Japan. An interesting group, and quite congenial.
Sign observed this morning for a company: "Ambulance and Freezer Box Service." The former for the living, the latter for the dead. (After all, it is hot and humid here, so deterioration is a problem.)
This morning's activity was going to a palace about an hour's drive from here. Quite interesting, especially in contrast to other palaces I've seen. Very understated, subdued. Used lots of wood (teak) in the construction, low to the ground, and yet expansive. Very cooling. Also noticed there are no doors--always open.
The pay toilet at the palace had two prices--1 rupee for the urninal, 4 rupees (a dime) for the toilet. I wanted the former. Had to insist and argue to get the correct change back, but finally succeeded. Laughed at myself wondering why it made a difference to me. But at the time, it seemed to.
Tonight we're having a dance school group come and perform traditional Indian dances for us. I'm not looking forward to it for some reason, but it's what's happening. So I'll probably be a good boy and go--sort of like the orphanage yesterday, it's the group thing to do. Who knows? Maybe I'll even like it!
Tomorrow it's back to work building, which will be good. Rumor has it that we'll be pouring the concrete roof. I've already indicated that I'd really like to do that. We'll see.
Happy Sunday to all. Hope you're having a nice weekend. I am.
July 2: What’s Hot
Today's weather forecast: "pleasant day with cloudy sky." Today's weather reality: rain.
It was raining as we drove to the build site, raining when we got there. Many of the paid workers were not coming since it would mean paying to get there with little pay for not working. After some discussions, it was decided that there was work for small group of plasterers and the others would try and do some outside work. I volunteered for the plastering.
Height and reach often become evident eventually, and they did today. Our plastering job involved inside the house. The first project was the ceiling of one room, which involved going up on the "scaffolding." (Note to OSHA: the "scaffolding" we use consists of tree limbs tied together with rope and balanced on other tree limbs.) The call came for "lean" people. I qualify, and volunteered. But it quickly became evident that if I was on the scaffolding, I wouldn't be able to stand up. So I demurred. (Ceiling plastering not being my thing anyway, I wasn't too disappointed.) And a shorter (and still lean) guy took my place.
It then became evident that I had reach. So when we began plastering the walls in the other room, naturally I got the call for doing the higher part. Always nice to be needed.
The rain continued, so it was decided that the rest of the group would head back after we all had a (very) early lunch. So they did, and we stayed....and the rain stopped for the day.
Good fun just hanging out with the local guys, the 4 of us engaged in plastering and bantering in mixed language (Tamil, English, and gestures.) We did some good work and had some fun. After finishing one wall, we went to the next, which involved greater heights. (It's hard to explain, but true.) So we built the scaffolding, tailored to my height(!) and up I went. Worked there with the head mason, which was fun. Offered to give the other two guys a chance to come up, but they declined. So it was just the two of us. Of course, he did about 4x the amount I did, but it was satisfying anyway.
There was a Classified section in Sunday's paper. I always look at them to see what's being advertised, and how. At home, of course, it's jobs and housing mostly. Here? There were a few job ads, and a few home ads. (Interesting to see what's featured of course. Several new apartment complexes listed their amenities which included "drinking water" and "24-hour backup electrical service with an asterisk saying "conditions apply.")
But the bulk of the ads were for arranged marriages--bridegrooms and brides. A quick scan of the bridegroom ads showed certain common elements--age, height, degrees, "settled" with possible mention of profession (doctor, lawyer, engineer were popular), possibly caste/religion (though some said "caste and religion no preference"), and vegetarian. All seemed to be looking for "fair, beautiful and younger" bride. Some also indicated then they would be interviewing.
Last night's Indian dance performance was also a cultural experience, in many senses of that term. It was scheduled to start at 6:30; the dancers arrived shortly before 8:00. It was expected to last about 1 1/2 hours; it lasted 2 hours. And then pictures. And then (at 10:00) we had dinner. (By that time, I was Senor Malhumorado.)
The dances themselves were interesting, at least for a while. But to my untrained eye, they were quite repetitive (each told a story, which never was described to us) and endless. A little goes a long way, and we had a lot.
The music, of course, was Eastern. Some of the singing (recorded, mercifully) reminded me of Chipmunks' songs, with the Chipmunks being in distress.
But the costumes were beautiful, the makeup elaborate, the energy remarkable. If only it had been a little shorter (or I had eaten earlier.)
After we finished our work today, they arranged for a taxi to take us back to our hotel. Four of us, plus 2 of them, plus the driver. In a car made for perhaps 5 Indian-size people. But I sat in the middle of the front seat so I wasn't as squeezed as the 4 in the back.
Being in the front gave me a birdseye view of driving. Remember how in driving lessons you were taught to hold the wheel at 10 and 2? Well, here one hand is at 10 OR 2, the other thumb is ALWAYS on the horn. Which gave me a lesson in how the horn is used here: to alert walkers, other cars, trucks, buses etc. if you are passing them, to alert other cars coming toward you, to alert animals along the road, or sometimes, just to sound it because you haven't used your thumb in the last 5 seconds.
One of the things to do here is watch the sunset from Sunset Point. It being close to that time, I'm headed there now. Hope it sets.
July 4: Becoming a Real Person
It usually takes a while, but it usually happens--we become an individual, with a name, perhaps some known (limited) talents, perhaps with a couple of shared jokes (sign language permitting.) It happened for the 4 of us who stayed Monday to work with the mason and his assistant. Somehow, working together in a small room, being trained and corrected, and having been around for a week led to a little bonding.
We have been blessed with two wonderful days of weather--clearer skies, lower humidity, temperature in the lower 80's, a steady breeze. I notice the difference visibly--I still get soaking wet (but not quite as bad), but I dry when I stop working!
Yesterday's big project was pouring a concrete roof. I was interested to see how this was done. Imagine pouring a concrete patio or foundation, which I've done. Wooden forms around the borders, a network of wires within to strengthen the concrete, and then pouring the concrete. Lots and lots of buckets or wheelbarrows of it, quickly, since it sets to the touch quite quickly. Now do that 10 feet up. Requires also building a "floor" of boards to hold up the concrete while it dries. And a collection of tree limbs to support the weight of it all until it dries. And scaffolding built of tree limbs lashed together to allow you to reach the roof. And people stationed along the ground/scaffolding/roof to pass the pans of heavy concrete. And that's what we did.
I volunteered, of course, to be up on the (emerging) roof. Five of us, plus the mason. We all got up, and the mason handed a trowel to me and said "mason" meaning I was his assistant. Besides being proud of having been annointed, this meant I was headed for constantly being directed and corrected, since I never could quite do it right. My ego, however, is never present in these situations.
Turns out he was also regularly referring to me as Uncle John. Somehow, it had been transmitted to him that I was Linda's uncle, and he delighted in calling me "Uncle" in Tamil and John. I delighted as well.
The work was long--took about 4 hours to pour the roof and the outside staircase, and we didn't actually begin until 2, so we didn't finish until 6:30. Rumor has it that another roof awaits us tomorrow.
Yesterday was also the day that I realized that I am drinking and eating to live rather than the reverse. (With the exception of the occasional Hawood's Strong.) Doing a better job at the former than the latter. It's not that the food is bad--it's actually fairly good--it's just very repetitive and therefore, getting boring. It's sad when the day's gustatorial highlight is my granola bar. We did eat at the next door hotel restaurant the other night, and it was better. Eating there again tonight, and Friday, so that will be good.
Yesterday was also the day we decided what to do with the leftover funds. Leaders always budget a little high to prevent unpleasant surprises. The remaining funds usually are used for the local Habitat community--perhaps for tools, or whatever are their needs. Our group was interested in using the funds, plus additional donations, for blankets for the orphanage and then getting additional donations from all of us for the supplies for an open air church in the village. Cooler heads eventually prevailed and we used the Habitat funds for the village project (plus a little extra from each) and those wanting to could contribute to the blankets. As it turned out, we were able to do both.
This morning's pre-breakfast walk took me down to the beachfront point. There's a small temple there, and there was recorded chanting coming from it, audible as I sat on a bench and watched the seas. What a wonderful way to start the day.
One of the sounds I hear as I'm walking along is the hawking sound of nose-blowing and spitting. I won't miss it.
Banana leaves make wonderful placemats. They're a rich green, a little moist, and readily disposable. We've had them at several restaurants.
Today's work project largely was pouring the concrete for the lintel of another house--the concrete band around the rooftop that supports the brick wall plus an extension over the front door. We were engaged mostly in just passing the concrete--no up top work for us since it was a small area and only required truly skilled masons. Still, a fun project that took about 3 hours of steady work.
Only a couple of more days of work before we end our time here. The pace quickens as the end nears.
Happy 4th everyone. Hope it's a nice day off. I think this is the 4th year in a row I have been "elsewhere" on this date.
July 5: Back to Chicken
Another good weather day and therefore a good work day. We really have been fortunate in the weather, especially this week. Today's work was hauling brick, pouring concrete for another lintel, and filling in the "basement" with dirt. I chose the first one.
One person's self-definition of working hard: follow me in the empty wheelbarrow to the brick pile. Load about 1/4 of the wheelbarrow while I load the other 3/4. Follow me back with the loaded barrow while they carry 2 bricks. Rest. Repeat.
It takes about 300 loads to move the brick from where it's delivered by the truck to the current house we're working on to get the 9,000 bricks needed for the house. Another number: the concrete roof we poured yesterday weighs about 5 tons wet (less dry, of course, but we put it up wet.) Which means the tree limbs holding it up have to support that weight, and we passed that weight in buckets up to the roof and spread it. (Well, others passed it up--I was up there doing the easier job of spreading it.)
I've had chicken and fish at 2 meals every day for the last 10 days. So last night, when we went to the better restaurant at the next door hotel and could order from the menu, I was focused on ABC--Aything But Chicken. So the menu choices were chicken, fish and mutton and the choice was easy. (Ironic, since in Mongolia I got to the ABM point.) I could have it either of two ways: pepper fry ("very spicy, sir") or dry. I chose the former.
I had previously learned that in India, mutton is actually goat. (No sheep need apply.) So I opted for the goat pepper fry. And it definitely was not-chicken. And interesting. And now it's back to chicken.
Went out for my usual morning walk today and quickly encountered a large rat. As a friend of mine might ask, "dead or alive?" "Dead," I would say. "Good!"
Walked today in some of the side streets again, getting yet another sense of real life in Kanyakumari. The homes generally are quite substantial in material--much like the ones we are building--though of course, small. The streets are paved and very narrow, usually only small narrow passageways between blocks of houses. But compared to some of the housing I've seen other places, the poverty isn't nearly as visible, at least not in the housing itself. Pretty bare furnishings, though. And I'm sure, pretty meager diets.
I've become at least outwardly inured to beggars and unfortunately, probably a little inwardly callous. But this morning, I saw the thing that triggers the strongest reactions in me--mothers with their small children who have trained their small children to beg. Two little boys, probably about Wesley and Ethan age, sent out to beg. At this age, they have no concept of what they're being forced to do. But later? For me it's a complex mixture of anger and sadness at the life they are leading and in some broad since, my complicity in it.
Potable water in the village where we work comes through government pipes. There are faucets around the village since most people don't have the money to pay to connect to get water actually into their homes. Every day we've been there I've seen people at the faucets pretty much all day, filling water jugs for home. Today no one--there was no water coming out of the faucets when you turned them on. Now I see why they spend their days gathering water when the water flows.
Stopped on the way home at a 300 year old fort, built to defend India against the Dutch. For a while they used faux cannons--painted pictures of cannons--since they didn't have real ones. Worked for a while. The fort is on the Bay of Bengal, so we all trooped down to the beach and some of us waded into the Bay. So now I can add the Bay to my list of bodies of water where I've waded.
Tonight Charly has a short video showing the tsunami as it struck this town. I look forward to seeing it, now that I know the town as well as I do. Then tomorrow is our last work day, a closing ceremony when our ladies will model their sarees, and then we're off to a few days of R&R. Looking forward to it all, as usual, and to going home next Wednesday. Have already started my "next week I'll be in..." as a way of reminding myself to take in everythig I can around here since all too soon, I won't be here.
July 7: (In)visible Changes
We had a good last day of work yesterday. Much of the same thing--bricklaying on the lintel, pouring a concrete floor. Since I had hauled/passed/laid bricks already I chose brick-throwing---throwing the bricks up to the masons on the lintel. After doing that for several hours, decided I didn't need to go to the gym for any further aerobic or upper body workout.
The closing ceremony last evening was in the village. I had some time to stroll around the village while our women dressed in their sarees. We have worked on 6-7 houses these two weeks, doing various steps of the construction process--dirt-filling, laying brick for the walls, pouring the concrete for the lintels, bricklaying on the lintels, pouring the concrete roof, laying bricks around the roof deck, pouring the concrete floor While we didn't finish any one house, the changes in them were certainly very evident.
When we arrived, the little church in the village consisted of an altar and an open clearing, surrounded by coconut palm trees, and some lighting. With our encouragement and gift of the roofing material, the church now has a foundatiion around it, a "finished" dirt floor that is waiting for tile, the support structure for the roof that awaits the delivery Monday of the roofing material. (The villagers did all of the work--none of us were involved since it isn't a Habitat project.)
There is a government-run preschool at the edge of the village. Each morning we parked our bus by the house, walked past the eager smiling faces of the children. One day, when it was raining, we ate our lunch inside with them. I noticed that except for a couple of small balls, there didn't seem to be any other toys or things to do. There now is a swing, a tricycle, and several inflatable animals for them to play with.
The invisible changes are more difficult to identify. But I know they exist. The closing ceremony gave us all a chance to focus on the individuals with whom we had personally connected--some known to us, others perhaps a surprise. And to see the faces of the children, again some of whom we knew and others we did. Changes have occurred in each of them, and in each of us, but those changes will manifest themselves in the days, months, and years ahead.
Last night at dinner a couple stopped me and asked whether I was with Habitat. That led to an extensive discussion about Habitat, how it works, etc. At the end, the man asked "where are you from?" 'North Carolina." Turns out they once lived in Cary(!) and both had been working for IBM. She still does, is now in Austin, Texas, and he is trying to figure out what he wants to do with the rest of his life. Small world indeed!
Today is travel day--a reverse sort of from a couple of weeks ago. Bus to Trivandrum, flight to Delhi, bus to Agra for 2 nights. I'm actually sitting in an internet cafe across from the airport in Trivandrum. Caused a bit of a problem. We had entered the domestic terminal. Then I found out there was no internet, and we had 2 hours. Then found out "it's by the international terminal." Went to walk out. Stopped by armed guard. "You may not leave!" Discussions (polite--I didn't have my TSA face on), brings over his officer. Officer questions me, finally says "get your baggage and you can leave." Fortunately, we had not checked in so I still could. And with baggage in tow, he could get me out past another armed guard. Now all I have to do is be able to get back in!
So it's off soon for the rest of today's journey, ending up in the city of the Taj Mahal. Promises to be quite a contrast.
July 8: Eternity
I woke up this morning about 4:30 to the sound of the first call to worship at a nearby mosque. It's a slightly haunting sound and it reminded me that I was in the midst of a very mixed religion area. Our tour guide gave a demographic profile in terms of religion rather than race or ethnicity.
Our first (and early!) stop was to the Taj itself. Our leader wanted to see the sunrise at the Taj Mahal which is why we were there before they opened at 6 a.m. The sun had already risen by then, but the place was delightfully devoid of people (understandable!) and the weather much cooler.
There is nothing I can say about the Taj that hasn't already been said by millions. All I can add is that it was good for me to finally be in its physical presence and get a sense of the scope and scale of it, along with the close-up detail, which is truly remarkable.
Our next stop was to what the British irreverently referred to as the "Baby Taj." It actually was a monument built before the Taj, perhaps by the grandfather of the Taj's emperor (I lost track) and was the inspiration for it. In many ways, I found the Baby Taj to be more human-scale and accessible to me. (Of course, it also showed me the usual man thing of always wanting to do something bigger and better than the last person, so the Taj is grander, more glorious, more expansive, more everything than the Baby Taj.
I couldn't help but think about the eternal quest some despotic men (and they always seem to be men) have to leave behind a visible symbol of their power for all eternity to see. And how few of those monuments remain a few years after the death of their builder. But I guess despots never learn, always thinking they are "different' and history will regard them more kindly. (W. fits this too, I fear.)
The 3rd stop was the Agra Fort, where the emperor who had the Taj built was imprisoned by his son for 8 years, looking longingly through a reflection in a mirror at the tomb for his beloved wife. (The son, the 3rd son, was angry because his father liked the eldest better and would leave the empire to him. So he fixed that by usurping power, putting Dad in prison until he died, getting rid of the other brother, and living happily ever after. Sibling rivalry also seems to always be present, too.)
Yesterday was its own version of eternity. The journey from Kanyakumari to here was long and at times, seemed like it would never end. Three hours on bus to the airport, 2 hours at the airport (I didn't have any trouble getting back into the airport after e-mailing, fortunately), 3 hour flight to Delhi, then a 5 hour bus ride here to Agra. And all with only the airline "lunch" as our food. The natives were getting very restless by the time we arrived at a restaurant around 10:00. But food, then sleep helped restore the body and soul.
There also are some further problems with the details of the R&R. Turns out Margie "forgot" to tell us some things weren't covered, like meals (she claims to have told us, but no one knew that). And there is a dispute between what she says she booked and we paid for and what the local tour company says it agreed to do. All problems, of course, can be solved with money. And as Lois would have reminded me, how would my life be different with the small amount of money. So I'm calming down. I just feel sorry for those on a very tight budget, like the college girl who used all of her money to get here and really doesn't have any slack. I'm quite disappointed in Habitat for letting this happen--for letting this leader make such a mess of the finances--and plan to write them when I get home.
And yet, it's wonderful to be here and experience all of this. This afternoon, after a little nap, another guy and I went out shopping and haggling, fairly successfully on both counts I think. And now, we're looking for a beer before going back to the hotel and watching the Wimbledon final. I so often have missed it because I've been out of the country. This time, the time difference works in my favor--the match begins at 2:00 London time, which is 6:30 our time (weather permitting, of course) and our upscale hotel gets the right channel.
We leave tomorrow for yet another bus ride, this one to Jaipur with one stop along the way. As always, best to all.
July 10: Call Me Raj
I feel as though I've stepped back in time about 70+ years, to the time when British colonial rule was still present in India. I've read and seen movies depicting life in those times. Hotel safely surrounded by a wall, a welcoming gate guarded by staff, carefully maincured lawns with peacocks strutting and peahens calling, a few monkeys chattering and caged birds chirping, lush gardens carefully tended, a large open veranda with British chairs and tables, an inside welcoming parlor with 20 foot high ceilings, fans lazily twirling, liveried staff all over saying "sahib" and striving to meet your every need, large 3-room suite with 20 foot ceilings and fan, decorated in English prints and furniture, with heavy curtains for the door and window. And I've just described the hotel where we're staying 2 nights. It is a former high official's home, turned into a hotel. And it is about as far from today's India and Habitat as you can imagine.
The major event today was going to the Amber Fort, yet another palace built around the same time, this one by a Hindu emperor, located on a hill about an hour's drive outside of Jaipour. The entrance is reached by a winding road uphill. In colonial days, dignitaries traversed the road on elephants. So of course, we did too.
An elephant ride isn't exactly smooth, but it is leisurely (i.e., they're kind of slow, though ours did try and pass the one in front of us.) I was amused to see that they are very British, though--they walk uphill on the left side of the path. It all was hokey, but I must confess, one of those singular experiences that I'm glad to have had.
The fort itself was interesting, though I'm getting to the "seen one fort seen them all" stage. (Yes, it is time to go home.) The nuances were lost on me, as were the political intrigues that surrounded it. Still, worth seeing, especially for the trip to the entrance.
Then to a rug-making and textile-printing shop where they demonstrate the work, give you a drink, and sell, sell, sell. (We did that in Agra at a marble place, too.) The rugs were beautiful and incredibly moderate in price. I was very tempted to buy one for our front hall since our runner is showing its wear. But I resisted, resorting to the reality that I actually don't remember what my house looks like and more importantly, Anne wasn't here to help pick it out. "Oh, sir, you can return it if she doesn't like it." etc. Still, no rug is coming home under my arm.
It was about that time I realized that I simply couldn't take any more herding, and more was planned for the afternoon. So after lunch, another guy and I walked back to the hotel--about a 2 mile walk, through the back streets of Jaipur, and it was fascinating. Animals, people, shops, houses, etc. etc. Just the sort of thing we both like to do.
Yesterday's drive here was long, but at times, quite interesting. The topography between Agra and Jaipur is very flat, mostly agricultural and green (because the monsoon has begun) with many very small brick-making kilns dotting the fields. Occasional bustling villages, camels pulling wagons, donkeys carrying loads of bricks on their back (we identified with them), boars roaming the road, and all manner of vehicles. Yet another interesting snapshot of India as it exists in 2007.
Tomorrow is travel day again. About a 5 hour bus ride to Delhi, then a mostly-bus tour of Delhi. We're stopping a couple of places that I haven't been, which will be nice. Then to the airport by 8:00 p.m. for our 10:00+ flight. 15 hours later I'll be in Newark (if all goes well) at 4:30 a.m. Thursday. Groping for a couple of hours (hoping Au Bon Pain is open), catching a 7:00 flight to RDU, and home.
It's been a great trip, in so many many ways, and I'm ready to be heading home. That's it from India. Best to all.
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