I'm resurfacing after an internet lapse (for days)!
The following was written on Wednesday.
Grace (the coordinator’s wife) to say that the international student advisor (ISA) at campus needed to see me ASAP because she got word that I was not handing in any assignments for Sociology neither was I attending any classes. This morning I calmly took myself to my Sociology professor and asked if there was a problem with my attendance or my assignments or exams. She is very fond of me, just last week she sat me down and was telling me about her arranged marriage that she hopes never happens but when it does, she’d have no choice but to oblige. She assured me that there was nothing wrong, and told me I should be studying for my final exam. I told her that my ISA called and said there was a problem but she was clueless as to why there would be an issue. I then went to see the ISA. She was teaching a class but rushed out and called me into her office in an urgent rush. She said that this is a big problem and demanded to know what was going on. She said that the head of the department met her and had “showered” all these things on her about me. He told her that I wasn’t attending the classes, that I wasn’t doing assignments and “that American student…I want her out!” I knew he didn’t like me from day one, I knew he had issues…
Mr. Power - Trip is at it again, I thought. I wondered why he waited so long to wrongfully complain about me though. The ISA called him immediately on the phone and didn’t say to him I was there but said that she had spoken to me and that I said I was performing splendidly in the class. She did all the talking. She holds several posts at the university and many fear her. She said to me after she hung up that I should not let him see me coming from her office. I immediately went back to see my Sociology professor and she looked worried and said “come, come” as I entered her door. She was flipping through the roll book. She said “Sir just called me, he wanted me to tally up your attendance and he asked how you are doing in class. What happened??” She is so terrified of him, it makes me want to slap her back into reality. On another note, I couldn’t believe that he told the ISA such rubbish without even knowing how I was doing in the class in truth. Talk about playing dirty! She had given him a good report, well she told the truth. I do everything I’m supposed to. I was blameless! (grins)
Yesterday he set a new rule that all the girls must wear salwar kameez or tops that cover their bottoms (mid-thigh) and pants that go to their ankles. When my professor told me that, I almost died with shock. Some time back, he made Vasantaraja shave his beard because he said he looked like a thief. It wasn’t even a long beard!
So I started to think, why all of a sudden he is so angry at me? Then I remember I told my criminology professor how rude he was to me. Perhaps he told him and now he was set on destroying me? (hehe I kinda find that funny)
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Friday, October 23, 2009
MUMBAI!
(This is a long overdue blog)
I flew into Mumbai for a Congress WBN seminar, spent the weekend there and returned to Chennai on Sunday. The flight was about 1.5 hours long, which feels like nothing when the last time you’ve been on a plane was for 20 hrs.
I stayed at the Salvation Army. They have a female dormitory with the capacity of 16. Most nights there were about 12-14 of us there, all of which were foreigners. That didn’t surprise me much though; I am now used to the idea that Indian girls aren’t free and to be camping out/sleeping in a strange place with strange people for a couple of days is the pinnacle of liberation.
The seminar was exceptional! Mumbai was a shocker to me though. I drove past the slum where they filmed Slum Dog Millionaire, my driver pointed it out to me. It was cleaner than the slums I saw in Chennai, in fact, the standard of living, though still extreme poverty, seemed higher than Chennai’s poor. The children on the sidewalk had on shoes to my surprise, a sight I’d never see in Chennai. In fact, children who can actually afford the opportunity to go to school in Chennai still don’t wear shoes. Oh, and how I enjoyed not feeling grossed out or crying for a shower upon stepping out my door. I spent four days in Mumbai without the sight of a single person urinating in the street. In Chennai, I couldn’t go four minutes without seeing that sort of misconduct in public. Those four days in Mumbai was the longest I have gone without seeing nakedness since I’ve been in India. I get back to Chennai and I see a man pant-less stooping, number two-ing a little off the road where heaps of rubbish meet the road and the river bank. It wasn’t even a gross sight, it was just so sad. To think that poverty can bring people to such animalistic levels but still I could still imagine his human-ness. He wasn’t on the pavement, but a little off the road, perhaps preserving the ounce of dignity he has left.
So yes, everything seemed 100 times cleaner/better in Mumbai. The people – oh the people! I was shocked by the way they dressed. I, without any hesitation, wore my sleeveless clothes with no qualms…every other person did – Indians and all. I went into a store and to my shock, they sold short pants and sun dresses! That Mumbai – a very western one! In Chennai almost everyone wears sarees, all my female teachers wear sarees to teach. The students in my class wear churidas or salwar kameez outfits.
In Mumbai, no one stared. There are so many tourists there! When I see a foreigner in Chennai I almost want to point. In Fort, Mumbai where I stayed, everybody was a tourist. In fact, one man guessed I was from the West Indies after I told him I wasn’t from Africa. The third West Indian country he called was Trinidad and I shouted “YES!” He is an artist and had been to Trinidad, so I had to buy a piece from him.
Shopping there is super cheap, I thought. And the competition is stiff so bargaining is the greatest. You can easily beat a man’s price down by 50%. If you walk off and pretend to be uninterested after being told a price, it always works out in your favour *grins*. Though Jane said she feels bad because they probably have families to feed and 100 extra rupees is nothing for us. I wish I had such a big conscience.
Paranoia in Mumbai
(At the Central Train Station, I wrote this on my blackberry as I waited)
I’m at the train station with Zena, a Kenyan girl I made friends with. She is slowly driving me crazy with her clinginess and I just feel like being alone today. Well, she needed a train to head back home, and she almost coerced me here to come with her (haha). I’m uneasy. I’m just sitting on these terrazzo benches waiting…waiting to be bombed. There are lots of people in here and its divali, what an opportunity for terrorists. It doesn’t help that’s this place looks just like the train station in the BBC report neither does it help that there was another bombing in Delhi just weeks ago. Oh, and the American media’s face of a terrorist is every man in here. I don’t know where Zena went; she is having problems getting her ticket. My senses are peaked, looking for suspicious behaviour. A man just passed. He is dragging a big filled with large pieces of crumpled paper and plastic bags. I think he’s a janitor but he’s moving so hastily. I follow him with my eyes. He passes me and stops at a pile of boxes. He takes the bunch of paper and plastic out of the bin with both hands. He takes up one box that tied together with a string crossed at the top. He places it in the bin. My attention is perked and fixed on him. He takes the paper and the plastic up with both hands once more and places it in the bin, covering the box. What sort of explosive could be in that box, I wonder. It didn’t seem heavy, in fact, he lifted it with ease. He hurried off, in the same haste in which he came. I’m waiting…any second now…to hear the sound of chaos, a bomb! Okay, there is Zena. I’m leaving now…safe, sound.
**(Zena is great, it’s me who’s the weirdo. I was just hot and being dramatic when I wrote this)
THE UPPER-CUT
I hastily left the train station with Z in tow. She had no clue the reasons behind my quick steps. I simply did not want to be in a ten mile radius of that place. Outside, lines of taxis waited with its drivers leaning against its doors hollering at potential passengers as they pass by.
The first car in line was my pick. I wanted to go to Fab India, one of the best stores for modern Indian clothes. Fortunately, this driver knew where it was, unfortunately, he wanted 60 rupees, doubled the price. Not a chance! A taxi that was not in line but had just pulled up was my next pick. He came out in car and came towards me and I walked towards him, with the overcharging driver following. The man didn’t speak English well I noticed and wasn’t sure where I wanted to go. The overcharging driver started what seemed to be an argument with him in Hindi, his tone seemed aggressive. I looked back and forth at the men as I was facing them both. The overcharging driver pointed at the man and said to me that he knew little English, but in a mocking manner. The man said “50 rupees madam” forcing the overcharging one to say “40 rupees”. I agreed to the 40 rupees, at least he knew where we wanted to go. As the overcharging driver turned to walk away and I turned to follow him to his car, the other driver reached and hit his successor a hard clout.
Well I almost fainted. I almost held my head with my hands and ducked. In my world, a man hitting another man is a huge deal. As a matter of fact, that meant WAR. I stood there frozen, expecting the worst. The clout was strategically done. It had great impact. The receiver’s buffy hair split right down the middle where the other man’s hand made contact, leaving a path. He spun around in shock with his head lowered and his both hands holding his head. Retaliation is sure, I thought. I got ready to skip, jump and roll. Suddenly, he began to laugh uncomfortably, watching his bully for a second and continued making his way to the car with me and Z in tow. I was confused, what did that mean? Then he said something out loud in Hindi. I was sure that was the “wait dey! Ah comin’ back” - the most obvious response when walking away from a fight you’re unprepared for. In a Trini context that usually translates to “run!” because upon his return…it’s war. As we pulled off he shouted “idiot!!” Was that his response to getting tap up in the head in public? Grown man like him? I caught myself a few minutes later, and I couldn’t breathe, I was laughing uncontrollably all the way to Fab India. The seconds between the clout and his response, I had seen this going down totally different. No wonder India’s crime rate is nothing compared to Trinidad’s…after all, nobody does “keep lash”.
I flew into Mumbai for a Congress WBN seminar, spent the weekend there and returned to Chennai on Sunday. The flight was about 1.5 hours long, which feels like nothing when the last time you’ve been on a plane was for 20 hrs.
I stayed at the Salvation Army. They have a female dormitory with the capacity of 16. Most nights there were about 12-14 of us there, all of which were foreigners. That didn’t surprise me much though; I am now used to the idea that Indian girls aren’t free and to be camping out/sleeping in a strange place with strange people for a couple of days is the pinnacle of liberation.
The seminar was exceptional! Mumbai was a shocker to me though. I drove past the slum where they filmed Slum Dog Millionaire, my driver pointed it out to me. It was cleaner than the slums I saw in Chennai, in fact, the standard of living, though still extreme poverty, seemed higher than Chennai’s poor. The children on the sidewalk had on shoes to my surprise, a sight I’d never see in Chennai. In fact, children who can actually afford the opportunity to go to school in Chennai still don’t wear shoes. Oh, and how I enjoyed not feeling grossed out or crying for a shower upon stepping out my door. I spent four days in Mumbai without the sight of a single person urinating in the street. In Chennai, I couldn’t go four minutes without seeing that sort of misconduct in public. Those four days in Mumbai was the longest I have gone without seeing nakedness since I’ve been in India. I get back to Chennai and I see a man pant-less stooping, number two-ing a little off the road where heaps of rubbish meet the road and the river bank. It wasn’t even a gross sight, it was just so sad. To think that poverty can bring people to such animalistic levels but still I could still imagine his human-ness. He wasn’t on the pavement, but a little off the road, perhaps preserving the ounce of dignity he has left.
So yes, everything seemed 100 times cleaner/better in Mumbai. The people – oh the people! I was shocked by the way they dressed. I, without any hesitation, wore my sleeveless clothes with no qualms…every other person did – Indians and all. I went into a store and to my shock, they sold short pants and sun dresses! That Mumbai – a very western one! In Chennai almost everyone wears sarees, all my female teachers wear sarees to teach. The students in my class wear churidas or salwar kameez outfits.
In Mumbai, no one stared. There are so many tourists there! When I see a foreigner in Chennai I almost want to point. In Fort, Mumbai where I stayed, everybody was a tourist. In fact, one man guessed I was from the West Indies after I told him I wasn’t from Africa. The third West Indian country he called was Trinidad and I shouted “YES!” He is an artist and had been to Trinidad, so I had to buy a piece from him.
Shopping there is super cheap, I thought. And the competition is stiff so bargaining is the greatest. You can easily beat a man’s price down by 50%. If you walk off and pretend to be uninterested after being told a price, it always works out in your favour *grins*. Though Jane said she feels bad because they probably have families to feed and 100 extra rupees is nothing for us. I wish I had such a big conscience.
Paranoia in Mumbai
(At the Central Train Station, I wrote this on my blackberry as I waited)
I’m at the train station with Zena, a Kenyan girl I made friends with. She is slowly driving me crazy with her clinginess and I just feel like being alone today. Well, she needed a train to head back home, and she almost coerced me here to come with her (haha). I’m uneasy. I’m just sitting on these terrazzo benches waiting…waiting to be bombed. There are lots of people in here and its divali, what an opportunity for terrorists. It doesn’t help that’s this place looks just like the train station in the BBC report neither does it help that there was another bombing in Delhi just weeks ago. Oh, and the American media’s face of a terrorist is every man in here. I don’t know where Zena went; she is having problems getting her ticket. My senses are peaked, looking for suspicious behaviour. A man just passed. He is dragging a big filled with large pieces of crumpled paper and plastic bags. I think he’s a janitor but he’s moving so hastily. I follow him with my eyes. He passes me and stops at a pile of boxes. He takes the bunch of paper and plastic out of the bin with both hands. He takes up one box that tied together with a string crossed at the top. He places it in the bin. My attention is perked and fixed on him. He takes the paper and the plastic up with both hands once more and places it in the bin, covering the box. What sort of explosive could be in that box, I wonder. It didn’t seem heavy, in fact, he lifted it with ease. He hurried off, in the same haste in which he came. I’m waiting…any second now…to hear the sound of chaos, a bomb! Okay, there is Zena. I’m leaving now…safe, sound.
**(Zena is great, it’s me who’s the weirdo. I was just hot and being dramatic when I wrote this)
THE UPPER-CUT
I hastily left the train station with Z in tow. She had no clue the reasons behind my quick steps. I simply did not want to be in a ten mile radius of that place. Outside, lines of taxis waited with its drivers leaning against its doors hollering at potential passengers as they pass by.
The first car in line was my pick. I wanted to go to Fab India, one of the best stores for modern Indian clothes. Fortunately, this driver knew where it was, unfortunately, he wanted 60 rupees, doubled the price. Not a chance! A taxi that was not in line but had just pulled up was my next pick. He came out in car and came towards me and I walked towards him, with the overcharging driver following. The man didn’t speak English well I noticed and wasn’t sure where I wanted to go. The overcharging driver started what seemed to be an argument with him in Hindi, his tone seemed aggressive. I looked back and forth at the men as I was facing them both. The overcharging driver pointed at the man and said to me that he knew little English, but in a mocking manner. The man said “50 rupees madam” forcing the overcharging one to say “40 rupees”. I agreed to the 40 rupees, at least he knew where we wanted to go. As the overcharging driver turned to walk away and I turned to follow him to his car, the other driver reached and hit his successor a hard clout.
Well I almost fainted. I almost held my head with my hands and ducked. In my world, a man hitting another man is a huge deal. As a matter of fact, that meant WAR. I stood there frozen, expecting the worst. The clout was strategically done. It had great impact. The receiver’s buffy hair split right down the middle where the other man’s hand made contact, leaving a path. He spun around in shock with his head lowered and his both hands holding his head. Retaliation is sure, I thought. I got ready to skip, jump and roll. Suddenly, he began to laugh uncomfortably, watching his bully for a second and continued making his way to the car with me and Z in tow. I was confused, what did that mean? Then he said something out loud in Hindi. I was sure that was the “wait dey! Ah comin’ back” - the most obvious response when walking away from a fight you’re unprepared for. In a Trini context that usually translates to “run!” because upon his return…it’s war. As we pulled off he shouted “idiot!!” Was that his response to getting tap up in the head in public? Grown man like him? I caught myself a few minutes later, and I couldn’t breathe, I was laughing uncontrollably all the way to Fab India. The seconds between the clout and his response, I had seen this going down totally different. No wonder India’s crime rate is nothing compared to Trinidad’s…after all, nobody does “keep lash”.
The Pond and my Imagination...
My latest thrill is sitting by the pond at the back of the guest house and reading. Yesterday I sat there in the afternoon, as the sun was shifting in the sky, getting ready to set. I was distracted by the ducks that glided across the water, the hundreds of dragon flies that dipped quickly in the water leaving tiny circular ripples that went out and the little turtles that stuck up their heads. The thousands of giant gold fishes converged crazily whenever they saw a shadow near the water, expecting food. Jane (my Australian friend) said when the monsoon rains come and the pond overflows, fishes are everywhere! If that isn’t the grossest thing ever…
I started to feel like I was in a Jane Austen novel. I looked out at the branches of the trees that surrounding the pond, they were touching the water. There was nothing there to remind me that I was in the 21st century…well, beside my blackberry lying on the bench next to me. The little barefooted girls dressed in their navy blue overalls with their ribbons in their hair were just coming from school. They had seen me before, perhaps. They are from the orphanage I reckoned. They looked at me, giggling and whispering to each other as they walked. One brave girl waved and the others followed suit. I waved back with a huge smile. I was Emma for the moment. The girls who were around my age from the hostel would pass me and look down as if pretending not to notice me. They reinforced my daydream. Like Emma, I am free. The thought of marriage is far from my mind, but that is all they think about. Girls ask me all the time “Are you married? Why are you single?”
I spotted him. “Oh crap!” I thought to myself. I really didn’t want to be sitting by the pond and have him come over to talk to me. He was coming with a skip in his step and a smile on his face. “hello madam” he said, still steps away from my bench. “How is your friend?” The last time he saw me he asked me the same thing and I told him Evan had left and is back in California. Suddenly, there was a female Tamil voice from the back of me and he said “sorry madam, one, one minute” in an awkward tone. I quickly continued to ignore my book and went back into my day dream. Only this time I was Elizabeth Bennet in Pride and Prejudice…he was so Mr. Knightley! Very awkward, very random. He didn’t come back. I imagined that the woman, whoever she was, told him that he need not be talking to me because that might jeopardize his chances of getting a proposal. The night before, at dinner, Clarin, whose mother just died from cancer a couple weeks ago, told me that she has to wait until she’s married to go get a mammogram because word might get out if she goes now and her potential proposal will be jeopardized. No man wants to marry a potentially cancer stricken woman, unless she ups the dowry of course.
I went back to reading my book, forgetting I was a character in Jane Austen's novels. A long time passed and the sun was right ahead of me, so the tree I sat under no longer provided shade. I heard a voice approaching “madam, did you change your number?” The last time I had seen him he asked for my number and I gave it to him. I was with Jane, who gave me a look and scurried off as if wanting to give me privacy. That same night he had called me to ask me to come to church, I declined. He stood up right in front of me, right next to the blazing sun, so I could not watch him. He claimed that whenever he calls me I never answer. I was Emma now – uninterested and unimpressed. I pointed at my phone on the bench next to me and said “call it”. He did and it rang…that ended his short-lived tantrum. He continued to speak “you call me, rickshaw I drive after…” and I finished “after 5:30, I remember”.
I was looking at the fish in the pond and Mr. Knightley followed my gaze “madam? You want? 150. You get big one” and he held out his hand, gesturing from his wrist to his elbow. I said “for what?!” I knew he was going to say to eat, and he certainly did. I blurted “they are goldfish! They are pets”. He said “No, madam” smiling. Then the thought flew into my head “is this what the international guest house cooks??” At the urging of Jane(my Australian friend), I have had tastes of the fish at dinner before. He wasn’t sure, and asked to describe the fish I ate, prolonging my horror. When I said the fish were small and fried in red chilly powder to perhaps disguise their gold skin, he assured me that this wasn’t the case because they only eat the big gold fish. “Okay, Madam I have to go back to work…” he said reluctantly, as if I was keeping him.
Minutes later, he was at the end of the pond a little way from with a bucket, I saw him smile without looking at me and I had him figured out – he wanted attention. His father is the gardener, so he was fetching water for the plants I realized. Emma wouldn’t care either way...neither did I. I love the pond; I get to feel like I’m in another place in another time…
Monday, October 12, 2009
Zoo Day!
For those who don’t know me very well – I love zoos! The zoo is located about an hour or more outside the city (Chennai) so we took a train and a bus to get there. We had to wait a while for the train so we sat on the platform benches and chatted. Six females foreigners– Cadence, Diana, Yael, Kelly, Sara and I – chit chatting on a crowded train platform can cause quite a disruption in India I have realized. It didn’t help that Kelly’s laugh is high-pitched and loud and Sara’s is thunderous! One time Sara and I was in a store and I said something and there was an attendant helping us and Sara flung her head back and busted a laugh so loud that the startled, tiny-built man jumped. It was horrible.
On the platform this tiny little girl began to beg us and as we boarded the train. She, her mother (who looked about our age and was very beautiful we thought) and her baby sibling followed us onto the train. The begging child looked no more than 5 yrs old. Sara gave her a granola bar, Diana gave her a candy and when she got to Yael and I we said no to her. She stood in front of us with her hand out so I began to take pics and Yael suddenly blurted “Oh! She did the face!” and she dug in her bag and handed the girl 5 rupees. I know the face she was talking about. It’s that face that just breaks your heart to see on a child. It doesn’t help that they are dirty and wearing rags either, that only makes the look on their face all the more heart-breaking.
We had to swap trains and the train was so crowded, a lot like New York’s, only there are no train doors here, falling off on to the train tracks is just a push away. It is so interesting that there are ladies’ cars though. There are only one or two cars on the train for ladies (it seems to always be the cars to the back too). When we initially got into the station the train was already there so we had to run like horses from the front of the train to the back to get on the ladies’ car. Imagine if you’re late and the train is pulling off and you have to go to the back of the train to board…so inconvenient and annoying!
We finally made it to the zoo. We did the lion safari first because the zoo was HUGE and doing it first would mean that we get a ride to the end of the zoo and we could walk back to the front and see everything on our way out. We got into this van that literally had a caged around it, and held 12 people. The lions were in open space as if in the wild and they have concrete “houses” for them to escape the sun, I guess. We drove among them and stopped to take pictures. They seemed bored. Aside from when our driver got too close for comfort. He was doing it for spite. The lion was laying against the wall of his house minding his business and our driver drove right up on him (as if meaning to pin him to the wall). The lion paid us no mind. The driver switched off the engine and began to inch the van closer and closer to the lion. At this point, I was right next to the driver (there was no passenger seat) sitting on the floor of the safari van because I wanted good pics. The lion raised his head and shoulders, becoming aware and getting defensive. He looked the driver dead in his eyes! I was in front saying to the driver in my head “do it! do it!” He must have heard me because he inched the van forward a little again and the lion’s gaze just looked a little more devious and he got up on this front paws, his behind still on the ground as if going to pounce. He stared at the driver dead on through the bars around our windscreen as if saying “move another inch and it’s on…” Our wussy driver put the van in reverse and the lion turned his head and looked away as if saying “…thought so!” Like the lion, I too was disappointed. That would have been some good shots!!
That was a good way to start off our zoo trip. I loved that the elephants weren’t in cages. They it looked just as if they were in the wild. They had a huge stomping ground. So did the giraffes. Every other animal was pretty standard. The wild cats – jaguars, tigers, etc – were the best I thought. I was disappointed by the lack of gorillas. However, the monkey that escaped made up for all my disappointment. Zoo attendants were climbing trees, struggling not to fall, while others were launching stones, the crowds began to gather while the monkey was just chilling in the topmost part of the tree, swinging to avoid stones and catching as many as he can. It was hilarious. After the men started to feel their ego’s shrinking as the bunch of foreign girls laughed hysterically at the entire situation, they ran us. I pretended to not understand their broken English and obvious hand gestures for a bit so I could get some good pics.
That afternoon everyone came over to my room and chilled out until it was time for dinner. There is this “American” restaurant called “Sparky’s – Never trust a skinny chef” and they wanted to go. I had been there already and thought the food was a pathetic attempt at western food. They even sold Jamaican jerk chicken which I didn’t dare to order.
After dinner, we decided we should go do karaoke or dancing. Yael and Kelly were leaving in the wee hours of the next morning so we thought we should enjoy the night. We got a tourist guide and looked under “night life” – choices were minimal. We went to the “club” in a hotel called Havana. The music was shocking. They played Jay-Z and all sorts of hip-hop. I wasn’t in India anymore. Well, I was reminded when I saw the sign “only married couples on the dance floor”. Despite the loud music and dimmed lights, most of the crowd were watching cricket on a big screen tv! The dance floor became ours. We were wilding out! Kelly was break-dancing to hip hop and she was surprisingly good! We had a ball.
On the platform this tiny little girl began to beg us and as we boarded the train. She, her mother (who looked about our age and was very beautiful we thought) and her baby sibling followed us onto the train. The begging child looked no more than 5 yrs old. Sara gave her a granola bar, Diana gave her a candy and when she got to Yael and I we said no to her. She stood in front of us with her hand out so I began to take pics and Yael suddenly blurted “Oh! She did the face!” and she dug in her bag and handed the girl 5 rupees. I know the face she was talking about. It’s that face that just breaks your heart to see on a child. It doesn’t help that they are dirty and wearing rags either, that only makes the look on their face all the more heart-breaking.
We had to swap trains and the train was so crowded, a lot like New York’s, only there are no train doors here, falling off on to the train tracks is just a push away. It is so interesting that there are ladies’ cars though. There are only one or two cars on the train for ladies (it seems to always be the cars to the back too). When we initially got into the station the train was already there so we had to run like horses from the front of the train to the back to get on the ladies’ car. Imagine if you’re late and the train is pulling off and you have to go to the back of the train to board…so inconvenient and annoying!
We finally made it to the zoo. We did the lion safari first because the zoo was HUGE and doing it first would mean that we get a ride to the end of the zoo and we could walk back to the front and see everything on our way out. We got into this van that literally had a caged around it, and held 12 people. The lions were in open space as if in the wild and they have concrete “houses” for them to escape the sun, I guess. We drove among them and stopped to take pictures. They seemed bored. Aside from when our driver got too close for comfort. He was doing it for spite. The lion was laying against the wall of his house minding his business and our driver drove right up on him (as if meaning to pin him to the wall). The lion paid us no mind. The driver switched off the engine and began to inch the van closer and closer to the lion. At this point, I was right next to the driver (there was no passenger seat) sitting on the floor of the safari van because I wanted good pics. The lion raised his head and shoulders, becoming aware and getting defensive. He looked the driver dead in his eyes! I was in front saying to the driver in my head “do it! do it!” He must have heard me because he inched the van forward a little again and the lion’s gaze just looked a little more devious and he got up on this front paws, his behind still on the ground as if going to pounce. He stared at the driver dead on through the bars around our windscreen as if saying “move another inch and it’s on…” Our wussy driver put the van in reverse and the lion turned his head and looked away as if saying “…thought so!” Like the lion, I too was disappointed. That would have been some good shots!!
That was a good way to start off our zoo trip. I loved that the elephants weren’t in cages. They it looked just as if they were in the wild. They had a huge stomping ground. So did the giraffes. Every other animal was pretty standard. The wild cats – jaguars, tigers, etc – were the best I thought. I was disappointed by the lack of gorillas. However, the monkey that escaped made up for all my disappointment. Zoo attendants were climbing trees, struggling not to fall, while others were launching stones, the crowds began to gather while the monkey was just chilling in the topmost part of the tree, swinging to avoid stones and catching as many as he can. It was hilarious. After the men started to feel their ego’s shrinking as the bunch of foreign girls laughed hysterically at the entire situation, they ran us. I pretended to not understand their broken English and obvious hand gestures for a bit so I could get some good pics.
That afternoon everyone came over to my room and chilled out until it was time for dinner. There is this “American” restaurant called “Sparky’s – Never trust a skinny chef” and they wanted to go. I had been there already and thought the food was a pathetic attempt at western food. They even sold Jamaican jerk chicken which I didn’t dare to order.
After dinner, we decided we should go do karaoke or dancing. Yael and Kelly were leaving in the wee hours of the next morning so we thought we should enjoy the night. We got a tourist guide and looked under “night life” – choices were minimal. We went to the “club” in a hotel called Havana. The music was shocking. They played Jay-Z and all sorts of hip-hop. I wasn’t in India anymore. Well, I was reminded when I saw the sign “only married couples on the dance floor”. Despite the loud music and dimmed lights, most of the crowd were watching cricket on a big screen tv! The dance floor became ours. We were wilding out! Kelly was break-dancing to hip hop and she was surprisingly good! We had a ball.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Trip to Mahabalapuram
At dinner the night before the girls, save Cadence, begged me to come to Mahabalapuram with them to see the temples and the so-called center of gravity the following day (Friday). I had my “assignment on anything” due then so I told them I really couldn’t, though I know if I didn’t go I would probably not have the opportunity to do it again. I debated all night whether or not I should skip school and go. School always skips me so why can’t I skip it for once? Well I didn’t, I went to school like I was supposed to and gave up playing tourist, reluctantly. Naturally, just like when I got invited to go to Sri Lanka, I had no class! My morning professor stood me up and the second class the professor didn’t turn up. I was annoyed!! I called the girls and they happily said they were just on their way to the bus and I should hurry. With all my crazy heavy books, I rushed and got a rickshaw to the bus station.
Mahabalapuram is a temple city outside of Chennai, about 2 hours drive away. Honestly, I didn’t care too much about seeing the temples, I think they look all the same – statues of snakes, peacocks, rats, elephant head men, curvy women with multiply arms etc. However, because I appreciate art, I can still enjoy the detailed sculpting of statues from stones and engravings in the surfaces of walls.
HORROR BUS RIDE
We had to wait a while until the bus was ready to pull off. We stood outside for a while and waited until there were a few people were on it before we got into the scorching hot bus. One side of the bus had double seats and the other side had seats for three. We contemplated squeezing us four into a triple seater but opted to pair off in the double seat. There were no more than ten people on the bus at that point. I sat next to Sara and Yael and Kelly sat together right in front of us. A man, who Sara had noted was sitting to the front moved to the back of the bus and sat opposite Sara and I in a triple seater. I didn’t even notice him. There was also another man sitting opposite Yael and Kelly against the window of the triple seater. The man sitting opposite Sara and I pulled down the heavy metal shutters of his window. Again, I didn’t think anything of it, though I should of considering how hot it was in the bus. I was facing Sara, who sat at the window talking my life away. In between conversation, I can see the man staring us dead on, but again, that’s a normal occurrence so I thought nothing of it. Minutes later I looked over at the man who was still gaping and the rapid movement of his hands made my glance drop from his face – his entire privates was out and upright. I was horrified and uncertain. I nudged Sara, who was clueless and I said “Is he…?” I motioned my eyes towards him but I didn’t say what I thought he was doing. She was like “what?? I can’t see…but he knows we are talking about him…” She could see that he was facing us but would have to lean forward over me to see his face. Her hand was on my leg and all of a sudden her fingers squeezed my leg, her posture got upright, her mouth was open, loud gasp flew out and her head was out her window in seconds. Though warranted, she was a little more of a drama queen than I was in this situation. I leaned away too, burying my face in the back of her shoulder. I said “I don’t know whether to laugh or to cry” and she responded “I’m crying”. We composed ourselves. The girls ahead of us were too busy to realize what was going on. By our reactions, he was sure now that he had an audience. Suddenly the man cross from the girls, and ahead of him, turned around and said something to him. I deemed it safe to look now. The pervert quickly pulled his shirt over his exposed self. I gathered that the man asked him if he can open the metal shutter. He opened it and quickly got back to his business. Now, he turned his back to the window so that no one outside would see him. In my peripheral vision I can see that he sat sideways on the triple seaters with his legs open and one knee on the seat almost violently pounding on himself. The bus started to move so I looked around for the conductor. My shock had slowly turned into anger. I said to Sara we have to tell someone because this man is not stopping and I can’t function like this for 2 hours. The conductor was this ‘bookety’ looking old man who was sitting about three rows behind us. I said to Sara that if this were the US I would know that we would be protected but I’m not sure how the males here would respond if we say a man is assaulting us. We are women but our only trump card would be that we are foreigners. As I was having second thoughts about going to get the conductor the bus made its first stop right outside the station and a group of about 10 women hopped on through the back door. I literally heard his zipper go up. He jumped up and stood in the aisle next to me. I thought he was going to touch my face or something. Sara quickly jammed herself to the window and put her hands over my legs and pulled me closer to her. He lingered RIGHT NEXT to me for about 3 seconds then walked to the front of the bus. Sara asked as he walked off “did he touch you??” but his waist-area had only grazed the side of my arm and shoulder. I wasn’t sure if he did it intentionally…but I’m sure he did. I didn’t care too much, once he didn’t touch my face, it was all good.
The rest of the bus ride was surprisingly but thankfully event-free. When we got there we were all hot and hungry and was in no mood to see temples, at least I wasn’t. The guidebook said that the restaurants were on the beach so we asked for directions to the beach and headed off. As we got to the beach, it reminded me too much of Pondicherry and I was waiting for the smell of death to hit me, but it was pleasantly nice. A man told us if we walked along the water we would get to the shore-side restaurants. The beach was beautiful (by Indian standards) and it was refreshing to get our ankles wet. No one was on the beach, well only the vendors selling miscellaneous items that accosted us from time to time. No one went into to water either. Yael shouted “of all the millions in this place…why is no one on the beach?!” There were a few horse-men who offered to ride us along the coast for a price. That was how most tourist (the very few there are) got transported to the restaurants we realized as we couldn’t go any further because of the huge rocks that met the water and blocked the way. We opted to climb! That was fun. There were a lot of local males on top the rocks staring at the foreign girls as we screamed, squatted and slid down the side of the rocks. We went to the best looking restaurant on the beach which wasn't the best by any of our standards. It was comforting when I saw a man walking right off the beach with fish on his head into the restaurant. No two day old, partially decomposing fish for lunch is always a plus. More comforting was the older French couple finishing their meal as we walked in; that, for some reason made the restaurant feel more legit.
The restaurant was on an upstairs balcony and only had about three tables. It overlooked a bunch of fishing boats surrounded by lots of people who came to buy fish as it boats came in. The restaurant seemed to be run by a bunch of young men. Our waiter was especially nice. We were all smiling to one another and accusing the other of “giving him the eyes”. It was hilarious. Anyways, enough about that (haha)…
The food took forever to come! We were relaxing though, still recuperating from the bus ride. That was another comfort; at least I know the food wasn’t being microwaved. Wow, I haven’t seen a microwave in months! Well neither have I seen a stove, but I’m not missing that too much. When the food came though, it was delicious. After our meal, we played Jenga and then we played darts with the boys…to their delight.
It was about 5 o’clock by then and we hadn’t seen a single cave or temple. On our way we were accosted by these three girls selling beaded necklaces who would not give up even though we told them we didn't want anything. They spoke English a bit. I stopped to talk with them, to ask them about themselves. The first things I always ask is “are you in school?” or “how old are you?” They certainly were not sure of their ages, or perhaps they didn’t know how to say it in English. They were arguing with each other about the age they said they were. One girl said she was 11 and the other girls said she wasn’t. One girl said she was 12 and I blurted “you are not 12!” She looked like 7 or 8 to me. Kelly, who was the only one with me as the other two had gone on a momentary shopping spree inside of a street-side stall, looked at me and said “you can never tell in India”. However, I think they were all under 12. So I asked they were they lived but they were gypsies. Two of them had really golden hair that was obviously a result of being in the sun extensively. The third girl had a shaved head. I asked them what they did with the money they got from selling because after all, I have seen Slumdog Millionaire! They said they bought rice. So Kelly and I said to each other that we would get them some rice. So they took us to the store. I asked the woman how much for a kilogram of rice and she said 32 rupees – I thought that was so expensive! No wonder they so thin! So little miss shaved head who I could not stand because of her extreme aggression said to the vendor “5 kilos, 5 kilos, 5 kilos” pointing at her self and each of the girls. I said “no, no…” and she spun around with an angry face, wide eyes and leaned towards me (she was as tall as my waist) saying “madam, madam, big family!” Before she continued I said “1 kilo for you, 1 kilo for you, 1 kilo for you” pointing at each of them. The others, who were quiet all along chimed in about their big families. The shaved head girl started arguing, her general tone and temperament was as if she wanted to fight. I looked down at this little girl and I wanted to box her square – so rude and ungrateful! All this time Kelly is saying “no you get one, and you get one and you get one”. It didn’t surprised me that little miss aggressive was fatter than the others, she had cheeks, she looked well-fed though dirty. As she carried on with her “madam, ok 3 kilos” I was thinking about the study on the child soldiers we did in International Criminology a semester ago and how these children are socialized this way, and know nothing else. She was taught to be aggressive and get mad, but still, she was annoying me. Like a true Caribbean woman I bent towards her with my index finger waving sternly and asked “are you hungry??” She quickly answered with this look of death on her face (she had to practice that in the mirror) “yes, madam, hungry” and rubbed he stomach profusely. I said “then you take what you get…” (I sounded like my mother haha). That hushed her for no more than a second. She turned and said “oil madam?” Kelly stood leaning over the counter ensuring that the woman was weighing out the bags of rice correctly. As she handed them their rice and I paid, aggressive little missy was still trying... “biscuits madam?” I really liked the two other girls – one of them really looked like 6. They took their rice stuck it in their bags and went on their way. I asked them to pose for a pic before they leave and they did but miss shaved head was growling and grimacing. Reflecting on it, I feel so sad for her, but in the moment it took a lot not to say “gimme back meh rice!”
Sara and Yael were done shopping and met us. This dirty woman with a baby comes out of no where when she saw that we bought the girls rice. Lord knows, she really looked hungry. She had a husband, who also had a child strapped to him with cloth. She followed us around saying “rice madam” sticking particularly close to me. She had obviously seen me pay for rice for the girls. Yael asked if we had change and Sara gave her 5 rupees but she took it and said still held her hand out. Yael said “you don’t want it? We’ll take it back you know?” Yael is from the heart of NYC, she is not easy. The woman came by me “madam rice?” looking down at the money. I was thinking that if I could feed all of India I would, but I can’t! I knew very well that 5 rupees couldn’t feed her and her family or even get her a kilo of rice. So I gave her 10 rupees to make 15 and I said “that will get you a half a kilo of rice”. She walked as if going to the shop but when I turned around I wasn’t sure that she went in. Though I rather buy people food than money, I knew she wasn’t going to buy drugs (because drugs is not a problem here, its just poverty).
I had no idea where the other girls went but one girl stayed with us and I asked her about her family. I think she said she was 11 and had 3 other siblings, older and younger. She was really nice. She said she didn’t selling anything that day. I asked her how she would pay for the bus to get to were her family was and she said “5 rupees”…I figured she thought I asked how much…I have a feeling she didn’t pay to be on the bus. It is easy to get away with that here, especially children. She asked me to buy her a soda when we passed this shop and I said happily “I have apple fanta!” The bottle was warm but almost full and she took it without hesitation and stuck it under her arm on top her bag. She said she will take it home. As she walked with me another beggar man stopped her and she held up the fanta bottle and said something to him. I was hoping he didn’t try to take it away, though I felt she could handle herself. He didn’t take it and she kept walking. She talked to me for a little as we continued to walk. She pointed and said she had to go the opposite way for the bus. Kelly and I stopped a little to say bye to her as Yael and Sara walked ahead. She then pointed at my earrings and showed me her ears. She had a piece of stick in either ear. I realized she wanted them but I wasn’t sure so I asked “you want them?” and she nodding very sheepishly. It was weird and I laughed uncomfortably to Kelly and said to the girl “sure”. I couldn’t even remember what earrings I had on that day until I touched them. They were silver studs I got from H&M on a card with like 2 other pairs of earrings for like $5.90. She was happy for them and we said bye to her. Kelly asked “you gave her your earrings?” even though she saw me take them off and hand them to her. I too was surprised that I handed them over without hesitation. I wouldn’t be able to like those earrings the same if I didn’t give them to her. I couldn’t deny her a little femininity. At that age, I liked things like that too.
By the time we got to the temples it was dark and the caves were closed. However, I didn’t care that we drove two hours and didn’t see any of the things we had intended to see. Temples bore me, and the weirdness is extensive. This tour guide came up to us as he was coming out the entrance and said he could get us in and give us a brief tour for 100 rupees and a tip for the security to open the gates. I wanted to see the 2000 year old rock that is believe to be the center of gravity because it’s on a steep slope but never moves and the girls wanted to see the caves. So we paid up and went in (in the dark). I couldn’t concentrate on nothing because the mosquitoes bit like lions in those caves. The tour guide bawl me up “madam are you listening or not?” I really wasn't.
At the rock, the tour guide said that 700 men tried to push this rock off and weren’t successful. I wanted to know how 700 pairs of hands got on that, but I didn’t want to aggravate him again. But it’s a very amazing sight. On the bus ride back we tried to rationalize how it was possible for a rock to stay on a steep slope like that without moving, but we came up with no definite answer. An absolute defiance of gravity!
It took us about an hour to find the bus because there was a huge communist rally and they had to relocate the bus stop. We asked directions all the way, as we walked along this sketchy road. Thankfully, there were a lot of people also going to the bus stop. No one knew what bus would take us back to Chennai. We took a bus that took us ¾ of the way then we took a rickshaw to Chennai and got there at after 10.
That night we went to Mocha Café for dinner. The food was great and the dessert was better! I got home at midnight, the latest I had ever stayed out. We all dreaded getting up the next morning to go to the zoo at 10 am.
Mahabalapuram is a temple city outside of Chennai, about 2 hours drive away. Honestly, I didn’t care too much about seeing the temples, I think they look all the same – statues of snakes, peacocks, rats, elephant head men, curvy women with multiply arms etc. However, because I appreciate art, I can still enjoy the detailed sculpting of statues from stones and engravings in the surfaces of walls.
HORROR BUS RIDE
We had to wait a while until the bus was ready to pull off. We stood outside for a while and waited until there were a few people were on it before we got into the scorching hot bus. One side of the bus had double seats and the other side had seats for three. We contemplated squeezing us four into a triple seater but opted to pair off in the double seat. There were no more than ten people on the bus at that point. I sat next to Sara and Yael and Kelly sat together right in front of us. A man, who Sara had noted was sitting to the front moved to the back of the bus and sat opposite Sara and I in a triple seater. I didn’t even notice him. There was also another man sitting opposite Yael and Kelly against the window of the triple seater. The man sitting opposite Sara and I pulled down the heavy metal shutters of his window. Again, I didn’t think anything of it, though I should of considering how hot it was in the bus. I was facing Sara, who sat at the window talking my life away. In between conversation, I can see the man staring us dead on, but again, that’s a normal occurrence so I thought nothing of it. Minutes later I looked over at the man who was still gaping and the rapid movement of his hands made my glance drop from his face – his entire privates was out and upright. I was horrified and uncertain. I nudged Sara, who was clueless and I said “Is he…?” I motioned my eyes towards him but I didn’t say what I thought he was doing. She was like “what?? I can’t see…but he knows we are talking about him…” She could see that he was facing us but would have to lean forward over me to see his face. Her hand was on my leg and all of a sudden her fingers squeezed my leg, her posture got upright, her mouth was open, loud gasp flew out and her head was out her window in seconds. Though warranted, she was a little more of a drama queen than I was in this situation. I leaned away too, burying my face in the back of her shoulder. I said “I don’t know whether to laugh or to cry” and she responded “I’m crying”. We composed ourselves. The girls ahead of us were too busy to realize what was going on. By our reactions, he was sure now that he had an audience. Suddenly the man cross from the girls, and ahead of him, turned around and said something to him. I deemed it safe to look now. The pervert quickly pulled his shirt over his exposed self. I gathered that the man asked him if he can open the metal shutter. He opened it and quickly got back to his business. Now, he turned his back to the window so that no one outside would see him. In my peripheral vision I can see that he sat sideways on the triple seaters with his legs open and one knee on the seat almost violently pounding on himself. The bus started to move so I looked around for the conductor. My shock had slowly turned into anger. I said to Sara we have to tell someone because this man is not stopping and I can’t function like this for 2 hours. The conductor was this ‘bookety’ looking old man who was sitting about three rows behind us. I said to Sara that if this were the US I would know that we would be protected but I’m not sure how the males here would respond if we say a man is assaulting us. We are women but our only trump card would be that we are foreigners. As I was having second thoughts about going to get the conductor the bus made its first stop right outside the station and a group of about 10 women hopped on through the back door. I literally heard his zipper go up. He jumped up and stood in the aisle next to me. I thought he was going to touch my face or something. Sara quickly jammed herself to the window and put her hands over my legs and pulled me closer to her. He lingered RIGHT NEXT to me for about 3 seconds then walked to the front of the bus. Sara asked as he walked off “did he touch you??” but his waist-area had only grazed the side of my arm and shoulder. I wasn’t sure if he did it intentionally…but I’m sure he did. I didn’t care too much, once he didn’t touch my face, it was all good.
The rest of the bus ride was surprisingly but thankfully event-free. When we got there we were all hot and hungry and was in no mood to see temples, at least I wasn’t. The guidebook said that the restaurants were on the beach so we asked for directions to the beach and headed off. As we got to the beach, it reminded me too much of Pondicherry and I was waiting for the smell of death to hit me, but it was pleasantly nice. A man told us if we walked along the water we would get to the shore-side restaurants. The beach was beautiful (by Indian standards) and it was refreshing to get our ankles wet. No one was on the beach, well only the vendors selling miscellaneous items that accosted us from time to time. No one went into to water either. Yael shouted “of all the millions in this place…why is no one on the beach?!” There were a few horse-men who offered to ride us along the coast for a price. That was how most tourist (the very few there are) got transported to the restaurants we realized as we couldn’t go any further because of the huge rocks that met the water and blocked the way. We opted to climb! That was fun. There were a lot of local males on top the rocks staring at the foreign girls as we screamed, squatted and slid down the side of the rocks. We went to the best looking restaurant on the beach which wasn't the best by any of our standards. It was comforting when I saw a man walking right off the beach with fish on his head into the restaurant. No two day old, partially decomposing fish for lunch is always a plus. More comforting was the older French couple finishing their meal as we walked in; that, for some reason made the restaurant feel more legit.
The restaurant was on an upstairs balcony and only had about three tables. It overlooked a bunch of fishing boats surrounded by lots of people who came to buy fish as it boats came in. The restaurant seemed to be run by a bunch of young men. Our waiter was especially nice. We were all smiling to one another and accusing the other of “giving him the eyes”. It was hilarious. Anyways, enough about that (haha)…
The food took forever to come! We were relaxing though, still recuperating from the bus ride. That was another comfort; at least I know the food wasn’t being microwaved. Wow, I haven’t seen a microwave in months! Well neither have I seen a stove, but I’m not missing that too much. When the food came though, it was delicious. After our meal, we played Jenga and then we played darts with the boys…to their delight.
It was about 5 o’clock by then and we hadn’t seen a single cave or temple. On our way we were accosted by these three girls selling beaded necklaces who would not give up even though we told them we didn't want anything. They spoke English a bit. I stopped to talk with them, to ask them about themselves. The first things I always ask is “are you in school?” or “how old are you?” They certainly were not sure of their ages, or perhaps they didn’t know how to say it in English. They were arguing with each other about the age they said they were. One girl said she was 11 and the other girls said she wasn’t. One girl said she was 12 and I blurted “you are not 12!” She looked like 7 or 8 to me. Kelly, who was the only one with me as the other two had gone on a momentary shopping spree inside of a street-side stall, looked at me and said “you can never tell in India”. However, I think they were all under 12. So I asked they were they lived but they were gypsies. Two of them had really golden hair that was obviously a result of being in the sun extensively. The third girl had a shaved head. I asked them what they did with the money they got from selling because after all, I have seen Slumdog Millionaire! They said they bought rice. So Kelly and I said to each other that we would get them some rice. So they took us to the store. I asked the woman how much for a kilogram of rice and she said 32 rupees – I thought that was so expensive! No wonder they so thin! So little miss shaved head who I could not stand because of her extreme aggression said to the vendor “5 kilos, 5 kilos, 5 kilos” pointing at her self and each of the girls. I said “no, no…” and she spun around with an angry face, wide eyes and leaned towards me (she was as tall as my waist) saying “madam, madam, big family!” Before she continued I said “1 kilo for you, 1 kilo for you, 1 kilo for you” pointing at each of them. The others, who were quiet all along chimed in about their big families. The shaved head girl started arguing, her general tone and temperament was as if she wanted to fight. I looked down at this little girl and I wanted to box her square – so rude and ungrateful! All this time Kelly is saying “no you get one, and you get one and you get one”. It didn’t surprised me that little miss aggressive was fatter than the others, she had cheeks, she looked well-fed though dirty. As she carried on with her “madam, ok 3 kilos” I was thinking about the study on the child soldiers we did in International Criminology a semester ago and how these children are socialized this way, and know nothing else. She was taught to be aggressive and get mad, but still, she was annoying me. Like a true Caribbean woman I bent towards her with my index finger waving sternly and asked “are you hungry??” She quickly answered with this look of death on her face (she had to practice that in the mirror) “yes, madam, hungry” and rubbed he stomach profusely. I said “then you take what you get…” (I sounded like my mother haha). That hushed her for no more than a second. She turned and said “oil madam?” Kelly stood leaning over the counter ensuring that the woman was weighing out the bags of rice correctly. As she handed them their rice and I paid, aggressive little missy was still trying... “biscuits madam?” I really liked the two other girls – one of them really looked like 6. They took their rice stuck it in their bags and went on their way. I asked them to pose for a pic before they leave and they did but miss shaved head was growling and grimacing. Reflecting on it, I feel so sad for her, but in the moment it took a lot not to say “gimme back meh rice!”
Sara and Yael were done shopping and met us. This dirty woman with a baby comes out of no where when she saw that we bought the girls rice. Lord knows, she really looked hungry. She had a husband, who also had a child strapped to him with cloth. She followed us around saying “rice madam” sticking particularly close to me. She had obviously seen me pay for rice for the girls. Yael asked if we had change and Sara gave her 5 rupees but she took it and said still held her hand out. Yael said “you don’t want it? We’ll take it back you know?” Yael is from the heart of NYC, she is not easy. The woman came by me “madam rice?” looking down at the money. I was thinking that if I could feed all of India I would, but I can’t! I knew very well that 5 rupees couldn’t feed her and her family or even get her a kilo of rice. So I gave her 10 rupees to make 15 and I said “that will get you a half a kilo of rice”. She walked as if going to the shop but when I turned around I wasn’t sure that she went in. Though I rather buy people food than money, I knew she wasn’t going to buy drugs (because drugs is not a problem here, its just poverty).
I had no idea where the other girls went but one girl stayed with us and I asked her about her family. I think she said she was 11 and had 3 other siblings, older and younger. She was really nice. She said she didn’t selling anything that day. I asked her how she would pay for the bus to get to were her family was and she said “5 rupees”…I figured she thought I asked how much…I have a feeling she didn’t pay to be on the bus. It is easy to get away with that here, especially children. She asked me to buy her a soda when we passed this shop and I said happily “I have apple fanta!” The bottle was warm but almost full and she took it without hesitation and stuck it under her arm on top her bag. She said she will take it home. As she walked with me another beggar man stopped her and she held up the fanta bottle and said something to him. I was hoping he didn’t try to take it away, though I felt she could handle herself. He didn’t take it and she kept walking. She talked to me for a little as we continued to walk. She pointed and said she had to go the opposite way for the bus. Kelly and I stopped a little to say bye to her as Yael and Sara walked ahead. She then pointed at my earrings and showed me her ears. She had a piece of stick in either ear. I realized she wanted them but I wasn’t sure so I asked “you want them?” and she nodding very sheepishly. It was weird and I laughed uncomfortably to Kelly and said to the girl “sure”. I couldn’t even remember what earrings I had on that day until I touched them. They were silver studs I got from H&M on a card with like 2 other pairs of earrings for like $5.90. She was happy for them and we said bye to her. Kelly asked “you gave her your earrings?” even though she saw me take them off and hand them to her. I too was surprised that I handed them over without hesitation. I wouldn’t be able to like those earrings the same if I didn’t give them to her. I couldn’t deny her a little femininity. At that age, I liked things like that too.
By the time we got to the temples it was dark and the caves were closed. However, I didn’t care that we drove two hours and didn’t see any of the things we had intended to see. Temples bore me, and the weirdness is extensive. This tour guide came up to us as he was coming out the entrance and said he could get us in and give us a brief tour for 100 rupees and a tip for the security to open the gates. I wanted to see the 2000 year old rock that is believe to be the center of gravity because it’s on a steep slope but never moves and the girls wanted to see the caves. So we paid up and went in (in the dark). I couldn’t concentrate on nothing because the mosquitoes bit like lions in those caves. The tour guide bawl me up “madam are you listening or not?” I really wasn't.
At the rock, the tour guide said that 700 men tried to push this rock off and weren’t successful. I wanted to know how 700 pairs of hands got on that, but I didn’t want to aggravate him again. But it’s a very amazing sight. On the bus ride back we tried to rationalize how it was possible for a rock to stay on a steep slope like that without moving, but we came up with no definite answer. An absolute defiance of gravity!
It took us about an hour to find the bus because there was a huge communist rally and they had to relocate the bus stop. We asked directions all the way, as we walked along this sketchy road. Thankfully, there were a lot of people also going to the bus stop. No one knew what bus would take us back to Chennai. We took a bus that took us ¾ of the way then we took a rickshaw to Chennai and got there at after 10.
That night we went to Mocha Café for dinner. The food was great and the dessert was better! I got home at midnight, the latest I had ever stayed out. We all dreaded getting up the next morning to go to the zoo at 10 am.
My week without internet...
On Monday I went to school as usual. I had an exam in the morning but typically, my afternoon class was canceled. I decided to drop in the mall because I wanted to print some pictures and visit the bookstore. I texted Sara just to say hello when I was there and coincidentally she was at the same mall too! We are always excited to have each other’s company because we are both here alone. She ended up coming over to my guest house and having dinner.
This week went by very quickly. I had 2 exams this week, like midterms but not quite. I feel like professors only give tests because they have to show grades. One professor, who never gave me any assignment suddenly, realized he had to give me a grade and said “do assignment…on anything”. While one would think that that’s great, it is in fact very frustrating. Another professor, I feel like I’m harassing him for an exam, and he said laughing “not to worry ma’am exam will come…India university is very free”. So it came as no surprise that when I did get an exam for one of my other classes on Tuesday I had NO clue what the questions were. I think they were simple questions that all the students knew because they were born and raised in India as the questions asked about the political history of India (ie the Muhgal era etc.). I couldn’t even bluff it.
I had been generally annoyed at school recently – the lack of structure is overwhelming. Again I will say, it reminds me of primary school in Trinidad as a child.
Wednesday Sara came over for dinner again. She loves my guest house’s food. Everybody loves it. Its eat all you can eat, buffet style. I’m so over Indian food!
She spent the evening by me because she had to pick up her friends who were coming in from another state in India at the central railway station, which is close to me.
On Thursday (my day off) night Sara, her two friends (Yael and Kelly), Cadence and I went to a Korean restaurant that Diana (Cadence’s coworker who I had met last Saturday night at a women’s monologue reading) had recommended to us. She said “it’s Korean-Korean not Indian-Korean” and that was all I needed to know. Dinner was great there. We all felt like we weren’t in India, which seems to be the case whenever we’re in a fancy place.
Cadence is from Calvary Canada and here in India with ELI as a journalism intern. Yael is from Chelsea, New York and she and Sara went to boarding school together. Yael and Kelly (from Seattle) met at their internship (they work for some NGO that protects indigenous Indian groups) in the northern part of India.
This week went by very quickly. I had 2 exams this week, like midterms but not quite. I feel like professors only give tests because they have to show grades. One professor, who never gave me any assignment suddenly, realized he had to give me a grade and said “do assignment…on anything”. While one would think that that’s great, it is in fact very frustrating. Another professor, I feel like I’m harassing him for an exam, and he said laughing “not to worry ma’am exam will come…India university is very free”. So it came as no surprise that when I did get an exam for one of my other classes on Tuesday I had NO clue what the questions were. I think they were simple questions that all the students knew because they were born and raised in India as the questions asked about the political history of India (ie the Muhgal era etc.). I couldn’t even bluff it.
I had been generally annoyed at school recently – the lack of structure is overwhelming. Again I will say, it reminds me of primary school in Trinidad as a child.
Wednesday Sara came over for dinner again. She loves my guest house’s food. Everybody loves it. Its eat all you can eat, buffet style. I’m so over Indian food!
She spent the evening by me because she had to pick up her friends who were coming in from another state in India at the central railway station, which is close to me.
On Thursday (my day off) night Sara, her two friends (Yael and Kelly), Cadence and I went to a Korean restaurant that Diana (Cadence’s coworker who I had met last Saturday night at a women’s monologue reading) had recommended to us. She said “it’s Korean-Korean not Indian-Korean” and that was all I needed to know. Dinner was great there. We all felt like we weren’t in India, which seems to be the case whenever we’re in a fancy place.
Cadence is from Calvary Canada and here in India with ELI as a journalism intern. Yael is from Chelsea, New York and she and Sara went to boarding school together. Yael and Kelly (from Seattle) met at their internship (they work for some NGO that protects indigenous Indian groups) in the northern part of India.
INTERNET, OH INTERNET
This has been quite a week so far. It has been days since the internet has been working (hence my lack of blogging) and this cannot continue. I made such a big fuss about it to the manager of the guest house until he said “please, ma’am…” with a face that didn’t hide his frustration with me. But he must know – I MUST HAVE INTERNET! So he quickly told one of the receptionist guys to figure out what’s up. It turns out that their internet company has been having “technical difficulties” for over 3 days. I’m not even sure how that’s possible. Anyways, I’m not trying to make too much of fuss (to the powers that be) because I already got one person fired. Poor man is probably out of food and shivering in the monsoon rains because of me. Recently I was thinking to myself that I must have been really tired the night I first landed in India because I cannot remember the man at the reception desk who signed me into my room. I remember thinking he was a little special because he recorded me as being Spanish (from Spain) in the hotel’s log book. Of course, I quickly corrected his error, thinking that he must of saw “Port of Spain” in my passport and figured I was from the land of Christopher Columbus. Only on Sunday on of the guys said something to the effect of I get people fired. They explained to me that Dominic got fired because he gave me the wrong room. Well that would explain why they all treat me so well. I was supposed to have a AC room originally but the night I came in I was placed in a room with no AC. I noticed but didn’t care at that point and thought I would sort it out in the morning. Morning came and I was too tired to move. When I did get up, I hung my Trini flag in position and ‘homified’ my room with pictures and so on. Krish (my coordinator) didn’t want anyone to wake me or disturb me. When I finally left my room and entered the lobby I was rushed by men who all were saying I have to change ASAP. I didn’t want to at that point because I was comfortable already but I still went to see the AC room to ensure that I wasn’t turning down a fabulous room. I didn’t like it at all when I saw it so I insisted that AC wasn’t necessary, even though it was initially what I had requested and paid for. They insisted that I would have to tell Krish myself that I refused to change (it appeared they were too scared to tell him themselves). Krish was upset at the mistake to the extent where all the men were shaking. They say he “started fire”. I guess both figurative and literal as poor Dominic got fired. I feel horrible about it. But is it my fault they treat foreigners like gods?
Anyways, so I said all that to say, internet being down and me being upset about it has caused distressed for many, as lots of staff didn’t want me to make a big deal out of it – and I didn’t (to some extent) – for their sakes.
Anyways, so I said all that to say, internet being down and me being upset about it has caused distressed for many, as lots of staff didn’t want me to make a big deal out of it – and I didn’t (to some extent) – for their sakes.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Indra and I book shopping and slum visit
Thursdays I never have class so I told Indra I would come book shopping with her then we will visit some slums so we could give away the bags of baby clothes she had been longing to denote. She didn’t want to give it to an organization as majority of them already have funding from the government, but she wanted to give it to individual families living on the street.
Indra is of East Indian decent, born in Suriname (South America) and raised in Holland. She speaks several languages – two Indian languages (Hindi and another one), German, English – but Dutch is her first language. She came to Indian to find her purpose in life and to help those in need. Her project right now is to build a library in a rural village about 1.5 hours outside of the city. We spent the day buying children’s books, which is more fun than I thought it would be. I left the store tired and wanting to have children just so I can read all these create books for them. I read so many ladybird books today, ones that I had read as a child. It was so funny to remember! Books like “The Little Red Hen” where the cat, the fox and the dog didn’t want to help Hen with the planting or the harvest of the wheat but when the bread made they wanted and “Three Billy Goats Gruff” and the troll who wanted to eat them for crossing his bridge, all had me laughing as I remembered loving these stories many many moons ago. These ladybird books have really good morals too. I choose about 10 of those of the library. Indra’s aim was to make it to 500 books. We spent all day and I don’t think we even crossed 100. It’s a long process! I managed to pick up “Twilight” from the teen’s section. I thought it would be good book to read for entertainment, especially considering that tomorrow is another holiday (Mahatma Gandi’s Birthday) and I have no class.
Indra and I then called Goven to pick us up from the bookstore to take us to a slum, we didn’t care which one. In fact, there are so many he couldn’t make up his mind. We went to a ‘government housing slum’ where people live in around, in between, behind these buildings. It was very interesting to see. I was also able to draw comparisons from the first slum I visited with Evan. Indra said as we were there “we live in a different world, yea?” And I thought we really do. I am living large here compared to how they live but I think they are happy. One of the women asked Indra if we have come to give them money because they are very poor. I am not even sure they have plumbing. There is this place they have gated off in between two buildings that reeked of every possible bad smell you can think about (but it mostly spelt like human waste). Just our luck, as we walked by it, a young girl opened the gate, tossed a bag in and a whiff of it hit us right in the face. I got a glimpse and it looked like it was a giant latrine (I wish I were exaggerating). The people there were very friendly. When they discovered Indra spoke a little of their language, I was ignored. There was no need for the adults to fumble in English. They all asked Indra about me. I can hear her saying key terms like “New York” and “university” as they all stared at my face in awe. The children though, loved me because I played cricket with them and let them take pics with my camera. One kid called me “aunty”…I felt so special! I often can’t write about these experiences because I never feel I can do it any justice. Not even the pictures can tell the story.
Our purpose for going was to find mothers with babies who needed clothing for them. However we don’t have a lot of clothes. On our way back home I asked Indra if she saw anyone she could give the clothes to and she said “No, how can you give one and not give all…”
For pics check link (its easier to upload to facebook):http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=317718&id=862470045&saved#/photo.php?pid=9063549&id=862470045
Indra is of East Indian decent, born in Suriname (South America) and raised in Holland. She speaks several languages – two Indian languages (Hindi and another one), German, English – but Dutch is her first language. She came to Indian to find her purpose in life and to help those in need. Her project right now is to build a library in a rural village about 1.5 hours outside of the city. We spent the day buying children’s books, which is more fun than I thought it would be. I left the store tired and wanting to have children just so I can read all these create books for them. I read so many ladybird books today, ones that I had read as a child. It was so funny to remember! Books like “The Little Red Hen” where the cat, the fox and the dog didn’t want to help Hen with the planting or the harvest of the wheat but when the bread made they wanted and “Three Billy Goats Gruff” and the troll who wanted to eat them for crossing his bridge, all had me laughing as I remembered loving these stories many many moons ago. These ladybird books have really good morals too. I choose about 10 of those of the library. Indra’s aim was to make it to 500 books. We spent all day and I don’t think we even crossed 100. It’s a long process! I managed to pick up “Twilight” from the teen’s section. I thought it would be good book to read for entertainment, especially considering that tomorrow is another holiday (Mahatma Gandi’s Birthday) and I have no class.
Indra and I then called Goven to pick us up from the bookstore to take us to a slum, we didn’t care which one. In fact, there are so many he couldn’t make up his mind. We went to a ‘government housing slum’ where people live in around, in between, behind these buildings. It was very interesting to see. I was also able to draw comparisons from the first slum I visited with Evan. Indra said as we were there “we live in a different world, yea?” And I thought we really do. I am living large here compared to how they live but I think they are happy. One of the women asked Indra if we have come to give them money because they are very poor. I am not even sure they have plumbing. There is this place they have gated off in between two buildings that reeked of every possible bad smell you can think about (but it mostly spelt like human waste). Just our luck, as we walked by it, a young girl opened the gate, tossed a bag in and a whiff of it hit us right in the face. I got a glimpse and it looked like it was a giant latrine (I wish I were exaggerating). The people there were very friendly. When they discovered Indra spoke a little of their language, I was ignored. There was no need for the adults to fumble in English. They all asked Indra about me. I can hear her saying key terms like “New York” and “university” as they all stared at my face in awe. The children though, loved me because I played cricket with them and let them take pics with my camera. One kid called me “aunty”…I felt so special! I often can’t write about these experiences because I never feel I can do it any justice. Not even the pictures can tell the story.
Our purpose for going was to find mothers with babies who needed clothing for them. However we don’t have a lot of clothes. On our way back home I asked Indra if she saw anyone she could give the clothes to and she said “No, how can you give one and not give all…”
For pics check link (its easier to upload to facebook):http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=317718&id=862470045&saved#/photo.php?pid=9063549&id=862470045
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