This morning as I took a cold shower for the second day in a row, I thought, “a small thing, but something that makes me really happy”. As many of my VSO friends can attest, after baking in the heat all day, the water tanks on the top of many Indian roofs ensure that all house water is heated. This is not very positive during the summer. (Of course, during the winter the opposite is true). Typically when I take multiple showers in the evening, the first two seconds are cold and after that, it’s fairly hot. But for the past two days, although it is still hot, it has been somewhat cloudy in Delhi, leading to a more positive shower condition, i.e. PSC.
I’m reminded of this as a relative of mine was recently complaining on their FB page that they didn’t have hot water in their house. I’ve realized through my own Indian experience and reading about those of other vols, how much we’ve all adapted to existing conditions, i.e. AEC.
Other simple things that I’ve come to appreciate are:
• Electricity, especially when it is a hot Delhi evening and I can’t run my a/c, power outages are numerous even though the Delhi government said that there would be no black outs this summer;
• Indoor toilet/plumbing, when I literally see so many who don’t have any indoor plumbing;
• A great apartment, when I see so many who sleep in a one room, windowless hovels or in very makeshift tents, (I often see people in a space one day and then someone else the next) never escaping the heat;
• Being able to download as much music as I want, when so many don’t have any access to internet and when they do don’t really know how to use it;
• Litter free environment in my home, when it is common practice to just throw garbage any and everywhere. I’ve been on a kick to remind people not to litter and last night I made my basketball “children” take an oath not to litter. I’ve also started doing this in my capacity building workshops. (I do however, throw my organic waste out my balcony every day, hoping to compost and grow something, although I think the stray dogs eat the waste every night).
• A few raindrops and a breeze, which are often non-existent in Delhi;
• Smiles from most people that I see and a request to take a picture of them, when so many, including my “tailor”, are constantly working and never seem to stop;
• A good job with lots of work, when so many, seemingly having jobs, but are doing nothing more than sitting all day and doing mindless, waiting, maybe selling fruit/veggies, or having to work construction in the Delhi heat for a few rupees a day;
• Skyping and Facebooking to keep me in touch with loved ones, when so many leave their villages and homes for work and see their family once a year, even though they are married and have children, but have to do this in order to survive;
• Being able to blog about sports, when so many don’t have the free time to do anything more than survive;
• Having clothing, even though most of my underwear is full of holes, when so many have one maybe two, if that many, sets of clothing;
• Being able to wash my clothes in a tub in my bathroom, even though many have to wash their clothes in the street and hang it wherever they can to dry;
• Having, food every day, when so many are begging for a few rupees to have some roti, some dal;
• Sweet children in my home, who treat me as a playmate, when so many have only dirt and garbage to play in.
India is an amazing country and I’m constantly reminding Indians about this, which may be somewhat arrogant of me. India is also a country in constant struggle, at times, making me wonder how it could really ever be a superpower. Health and safety, e.g. five people riding a motorcycle, only with the driver wearing a helmet, driving however and wherever a person would like, men urinating every and anywhere. India has, however, made me realize that living on 18,000 rupees/month. Less than $400, in a fairly comfortable lifestyle is not so impossible. This country has made me realize how to do more with less.
I remember my former spouse reading some book about living a simpler, more with less, life. I think that I can say that I’m starting to understand this. When I do eventually make my back to the US for a visit, please have lots of patience with me as I expect that I might be somewhat less than empathetic when I hear that one is without hot water for a day or a week. At times like this I do understand what it is like to live in another culture, LiAC.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
“Beware of Pickpockets in the train and station areas.”
“Beware of Pickpockets in the train and station areas.” How many times have I heard this woman’s voice with an English accent while taking the metro? Well at least enough times to be aware, but not really.
Another Monday (May 24, 2010) going to the dentist. It seems that my US fillings are all starting to have cracks in India, part of that may be the heavy diet leaning towards sugar and my craving for sweets. I don’t eat a lot of candy, but the chai, and everything else has enough sugar to make one’s teeth ache.
This morning after my walk, I took the bus and paid my five rupees out of a ten rupee note and put my wallet back into my cargo pants, in the lower pocket. I thought I should button this up, but since I usually don’t I didn’t.
I got onto the metro, took my usual 12 stops and went to the office, dropped off my laptop, saw that the Dodgers and Lakers had lost, and went back to the metro to go the dentist in Hauz Kaus. The metro was very crowded when I got on, given that it was 10 AM, prime rush hour. I didn’t take much notice, squeezed on and got off at Central Secretariat. I then boarded a rickshaw. The excitement began when we got to the dentist and as I reached for my wallet it wasn’t there! I’m sure that the rickshaw driver thought that I was crazy as I started feeling and looking around everywhere.
OK, so I had 5 rupees in my pocket and no wallet. I walked into the dentist and asked to borrow 60 rupees, which she gladly gave me and proceeded to make some calls, to my office, can I get an advance, please cancel my bank card, to VSO, they offered to give me an advance.
People were very helpful and then I walked into the dental lair where she proceeded to take out two fillings, one with novocaine and one without. (My teeth on the left side of my mouth have been filling the extreme coldness that a popsicle brings) As the drilling commenced I thought about the movie the Marathon Man and how Dustin Hoffman fared without any anesthesia. I felt a bit feint in the dental seat, so we stopped for a moment and then we cemented the relationship. I’ll be back on June 21 to put in the final bit of silver.
The day went on, I felt pretty down, plus there were the usual things that happen in any office, but they were made more difficult by how I was feeling.
After work I went and reported the loss to the Metro Manager at Karol Bagh who told me to see the Metro Police at Raja Garden. I was told that they were in back of the metro station behind a parking lot. There is a large sign indicating the Metro Police but as I walked straight all that I saw were a group of young men and a large mess area. They told me to go to my left. I walked into the metro police, a room with a number of men, none in any kind of uniforms. I told them my story and they said you must write it down.
They gave me two pieces of paper, inserted a carbon in between and stuck it all together with some pins, so that it wouldn’t all blow away due to the fans. There was no pen in sight and they went to find one. I wrote one page, then we flipped over the paper and carbon and I wrote the second page. After reading my statement the officer told me that I should rewrite this. They went off to find some more paper and I abbreviated my thoughts. They gave me some chai and told me to come back tomorrow, to pick up a typed copy, which I have done. There was only one typo, not bad.
Yes, I lost money, rupees, dollars, credit and bank cards, rupees that I had saved from 2006 the last time that I was in India, pictures.
It’s very disheartening, when I think about the reasons as to why I came to India and what I’m doing. I know that there are people who are desperate, less well off, and this is framed for me every day that I’m here. I also know that I stand out on some level maybe I’m targeted by people in both positive and negative ways.
The phrase “what to do” comes into play at times like this. Things can be very frustrating and this is one of those times when I’m feeling this. Often I’m able to shrug things off, but right now, I’m not able to. The cultural differences stand out for me and that becomes difficult. I know that I’ll get over it, but for now, it’s not that easy.
Another Monday (May 24, 2010) going to the dentist. It seems that my US fillings are all starting to have cracks in India, part of that may be the heavy diet leaning towards sugar and my craving for sweets. I don’t eat a lot of candy, but the chai, and everything else has enough sugar to make one’s teeth ache.
This morning after my walk, I took the bus and paid my five rupees out of a ten rupee note and put my wallet back into my cargo pants, in the lower pocket. I thought I should button this up, but since I usually don’t I didn’t.
I got onto the metro, took my usual 12 stops and went to the office, dropped off my laptop, saw that the Dodgers and Lakers had lost, and went back to the metro to go the dentist in Hauz Kaus. The metro was very crowded when I got on, given that it was 10 AM, prime rush hour. I didn’t take much notice, squeezed on and got off at Central Secretariat. I then boarded a rickshaw. The excitement began when we got to the dentist and as I reached for my wallet it wasn’t there! I’m sure that the rickshaw driver thought that I was crazy as I started feeling and looking around everywhere.
OK, so I had 5 rupees in my pocket and no wallet. I walked into the dentist and asked to borrow 60 rupees, which she gladly gave me and proceeded to make some calls, to my office, can I get an advance, please cancel my bank card, to VSO, they offered to give me an advance.
People were very helpful and then I walked into the dental lair where she proceeded to take out two fillings, one with novocaine and one without. (My teeth on the left side of my mouth have been filling the extreme coldness that a popsicle brings) As the drilling commenced I thought about the movie the Marathon Man and how Dustin Hoffman fared without any anesthesia. I felt a bit feint in the dental seat, so we stopped for a moment and then we cemented the relationship. I’ll be back on June 21 to put in the final bit of silver.
The day went on, I felt pretty down, plus there were the usual things that happen in any office, but they were made more difficult by how I was feeling.
After work I went and reported the loss to the Metro Manager at Karol Bagh who told me to see the Metro Police at Raja Garden. I was told that they were in back of the metro station behind a parking lot. There is a large sign indicating the Metro Police but as I walked straight all that I saw were a group of young men and a large mess area. They told me to go to my left. I walked into the metro police, a room with a number of men, none in any kind of uniforms. I told them my story and they said you must write it down.
They gave me two pieces of paper, inserted a carbon in between and stuck it all together with some pins, so that it wouldn’t all blow away due to the fans. There was no pen in sight and they went to find one. I wrote one page, then we flipped over the paper and carbon and I wrote the second page. After reading my statement the officer told me that I should rewrite this. They went off to find some more paper and I abbreviated my thoughts. They gave me some chai and told me to come back tomorrow, to pick up a typed copy, which I have done. There was only one typo, not bad.
Yes, I lost money, rupees, dollars, credit and bank cards, rupees that I had saved from 2006 the last time that I was in India, pictures.
It’s very disheartening, when I think about the reasons as to why I came to India and what I’m doing. I know that there are people who are desperate, less well off, and this is framed for me every day that I’m here. I also know that I stand out on some level maybe I’m targeted by people in both positive and negative ways.
The phrase “what to do” comes into play at times like this. Things can be very frustrating and this is one of those times when I’m feeling this. Often I’m able to shrug things off, but right now, I’m not able to. The cultural differences stand out for me and that becomes difficult. I know that I’ll get over it, but for now, it’s not that easy.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
National Trust Capacity Building Workshop-Gwalior or “Make sure that you have a large enough bed sheet so that your feet don’t stick out”
As I talked about strategic planning goals in my Gwalior capacity building workshop, I said to the “audience”, there is an expression in English about not “biting off more than you can chew”, have you heard of this? As this expression was translated into Hindi and then back to me in English I was told, “Make sure that you have a large enough bed sheet so that your feet don’t stick out”.
From May 10-12, Gwalior, MP is the site of my most recent workshop. A community of one million people, I’m told, about 350 km south of Delhi. I arrived on Sunday to scorching heat. From the train station, I was whisked off to a guest house at a sports university and of course one of the first things that I noticed were the basketball courts! .I saw the incredible Gwalior Fort which I would go on to see again on Tuesday evening for a more thorough investigation, including a sound, in Hindi, and light show with a group of people from the strategic planning workshop that I was conducting. Simply amazing the things that one can see in India! I recommend touring this 1400 year old Fort, carved out of a mountain, that has, like anything this old, quite a unique history. (The Mansingh Palace built much later, is over 500 years old and included a “telephone” system, a swimming pool in the basement, later turned into a jail and torture chamber, and a system for cooling off rooms).
I’m loving facilitating workshops as I become so engrossed in the art of presentation. My family includes many fine performers-sister Robyn, daughter Sarah, brother-in-law Michael, who are musicians, movie makers, dancers, singers, actors, etc. My “stage” however is built on in presenting information about strategic or fundraising planning , writing a grant proposal and staff development and retention. One doesn’t hear much about these types of “performances” on the stage, but in fact, giving a presentation, which relies keenly on “audience” participation, is my way of being an artist.
I sing some and also dance a little, but I’m more of a dramatic comedian, in which, I use very silly humor, and perfect Indian soap opera drama, always making strange faces. For instance, I can take out a “holi” fish “gun” and squirt the “audience” when they aren’t listening to the speaker, and they actually smile and want more. (Of course, when you’re “performing” in a room which is 95 F or 42 C, people always do want more). I can try to say Hindi words in which everyone cracks up, because no matter how much I think that I’m repeating what people tell me, I’m apparently not, and I can lead Bollywood dancing, which I know very little about, while standing on a chair. All the while, the “audience” is laughing.
I can also talk basketball, my love for the game and how it come to represent my life. About how there is no benefit in being a point guard and looking down while dribbling, because if I do I can’t see the entire court and am not “performing” my job. Just like if people in organizations don’t have their heads up in order to see the entire playing field they’re bound to miss out on opportunities. I can teach yoga, the lion, which is actually how I teach people at the YMCA how to play defense, while everyone is laughing, but also staying awake after lunch.
The main thing is that people do understand the components of a strategic plan while drawing silly looking people, using a head to represent a goal, the body to represent an objective and the appendages to represent the strategies and activities. They are understanding how a vision and mission and that silly looking person that they’ve just drawn, all fits together and they are able to develop a “roadmap” for their organisation, including all of their stakeholders in this process. They also are now able to facilitate a strategic planning process.
I can talk about how important it is to develop relationships in successful fundraising and point out resources galore. I can also talk about how in India, people generally just throw their garbage on the ground, even in historic forts, and after pointing this out, get everyone to make a commitment not to liter and remind others that they shouldn’t be littering either.
On many levels “performing” is not being afraid to put oneself out in public and to also truly be in one’s body, knowing full well what you’re doing. I find that I can think very clearly as I take my time, choose my words and make my points. I’ve been fortunate in having very good translators to help me with this, for without them, my words would be empty shells, with the “audience” just glazing over. I also feel fortunate in being able to just be silly, while at the same time building capacity in individuals so that they can build capacity in their organizations. I know that I’m building capacity as I start to become part of the “audience” because they are now becoming the “performers”.
On some level, as volunteers or “foreigners”, we are treated as “celebrities” as “stars”. After all, we might be the only non-Indians for many, many kilometers. I am called “sir” a lot and people open car doors for me, want to ensure that I’ve had plenty of water to drink, make sure that I’ve had a good dinner, etc. Today, at the end of the strategic planning session, a few people asked me for my autograph!
I know that on many levels, I’ve found a niche in life that I truly enjoy. I’ve always wanted to be a teacher and am getting to do this, at the Delhi YMCA teaching basketball, through capacity building workshops and through just being a “foreigner”. Today, I know that I’m helping to make a difference in some lives, as a few people in the “audience” told me that they’ve learned strategic planning in school, but didn’t really know how to apply the theory to practice until now. Ultimately this is the type of “performer” that I want to be, helping to “touch” other lives and having them “touch” my life.
At the end of the day today while I was still in the Central Park hotel, the venue for the workshop, I ate a piece of good, old apple pie and it tasted just like something that I could get from “home”. Because, at least for today I was “home”, and although I was full that apple pie tasted damn good!
Check out pics on FB!
From May 10-12, Gwalior, MP is the site of my most recent workshop. A community of one million people, I’m told, about 350 km south of Delhi. I arrived on Sunday to scorching heat. From the train station, I was whisked off to a guest house at a sports university and of course one of the first things that I noticed were the basketball courts! .I saw the incredible Gwalior Fort which I would go on to see again on Tuesday evening for a more thorough investigation, including a sound, in Hindi, and light show with a group of people from the strategic planning workshop that I was conducting. Simply amazing the things that one can see in India! I recommend touring this 1400 year old Fort, carved out of a mountain, that has, like anything this old, quite a unique history. (The Mansingh Palace built much later, is over 500 years old and included a “telephone” system, a swimming pool in the basement, later turned into a jail and torture chamber, and a system for cooling off rooms).
I’m loving facilitating workshops as I become so engrossed in the art of presentation. My family includes many fine performers-sister Robyn, daughter Sarah, brother-in-law Michael, who are musicians, movie makers, dancers, singers, actors, etc. My “stage” however is built on in presenting information about strategic or fundraising planning , writing a grant proposal and staff development and retention. One doesn’t hear much about these types of “performances” on the stage, but in fact, giving a presentation, which relies keenly on “audience” participation, is my way of being an artist.
I sing some and also dance a little, but I’m more of a dramatic comedian, in which, I use very silly humor, and perfect Indian soap opera drama, always making strange faces. For instance, I can take out a “holi” fish “gun” and squirt the “audience” when they aren’t listening to the speaker, and they actually smile and want more. (Of course, when you’re “performing” in a room which is 95 F or 42 C, people always do want more). I can try to say Hindi words in which everyone cracks up, because no matter how much I think that I’m repeating what people tell me, I’m apparently not, and I can lead Bollywood dancing, which I know very little about, while standing on a chair. All the while, the “audience” is laughing.
I can also talk basketball, my love for the game and how it come to represent my life. About how there is no benefit in being a point guard and looking down while dribbling, because if I do I can’t see the entire court and am not “performing” my job. Just like if people in organizations don’t have their heads up in order to see the entire playing field they’re bound to miss out on opportunities. I can teach yoga, the lion, which is actually how I teach people at the YMCA how to play defense, while everyone is laughing, but also staying awake after lunch.
The main thing is that people do understand the components of a strategic plan while drawing silly looking people, using a head to represent a goal, the body to represent an objective and the appendages to represent the strategies and activities. They are understanding how a vision and mission and that silly looking person that they’ve just drawn, all fits together and they are able to develop a “roadmap” for their organisation, including all of their stakeholders in this process. They also are now able to facilitate a strategic planning process.
I can talk about how important it is to develop relationships in successful fundraising and point out resources galore. I can also talk about how in India, people generally just throw their garbage on the ground, even in historic forts, and after pointing this out, get everyone to make a commitment not to liter and remind others that they shouldn’t be littering either.
On many levels “performing” is not being afraid to put oneself out in public and to also truly be in one’s body, knowing full well what you’re doing. I find that I can think very clearly as I take my time, choose my words and make my points. I’ve been fortunate in having very good translators to help me with this, for without them, my words would be empty shells, with the “audience” just glazing over. I also feel fortunate in being able to just be silly, while at the same time building capacity in individuals so that they can build capacity in their organizations. I know that I’m building capacity as I start to become part of the “audience” because they are now becoming the “performers”.
On some level, as volunteers or “foreigners”, we are treated as “celebrities” as “stars”. After all, we might be the only non-Indians for many, many kilometers. I am called “sir” a lot and people open car doors for me, want to ensure that I’ve had plenty of water to drink, make sure that I’ve had a good dinner, etc. Today, at the end of the strategic planning session, a few people asked me for my autograph!
I know that on many levels, I’ve found a niche in life that I truly enjoy. I’ve always wanted to be a teacher and am getting to do this, at the Delhi YMCA teaching basketball, through capacity building workshops and through just being a “foreigner”. Today, I know that I’m helping to make a difference in some lives, as a few people in the “audience” told me that they’ve learned strategic planning in school, but didn’t really know how to apply the theory to practice until now. Ultimately this is the type of “performer” that I want to be, helping to “touch” other lives and having them “touch” my life.
At the end of the day today while I was still in the Central Park hotel, the venue for the workshop, I ate a piece of good, old apple pie and it tasted just like something that I could get from “home”. Because, at least for today I was “home”, and although I was full that apple pie tasted damn good!
Check out pics on FB!
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Death and Life
I’ve been thinking about my sister Deanne who was born on February 22, 1959 and died on April 15, 1984. I see her quite a bit in the young Indian women that I notice throughout Delhi, as Deanne’s skin was dark, something like my Uncle Alan. I remember her through my son Daniel, named after Deanne, and who, like her, is a very kind person. (In the Jewish religion we only name people after those who are deceased).
I guess that we all go through this thinking or feeling about those that we’ve known and who are no longer here, at least physically. Still 26 years later, I can still feel the pain, and a sense of loss, when I let myself feel it, when I delve deeply into my inner life. It’s not something that is with me all of the time which is fine and would tend to make me unable to live my life, but it lies there. A choice on my part? Maybe, but a part of my life.
Daniel, my dear son, will be turning 25 on May 15 and will be entering the postulate at Self-Realization Fellowship in July. This means that he will be on the road to becoming a monk. http://www.yogananda-srf.org/tmp/about.aspx?id=64&ekmensel=568fab5c_115_117_btnlink. This is an amazing thing to me. Recently my parents visited Daniel at the Hidden Valley Ashram and they planted a tree for Deanne, a very touching action.
What does it mean that Daniel will become a spiritual figure in my family? Well, of course in my family, one thinks of rabbi’s, but no that’s not what is happening here. SRF is more about the larger world, i.e. the spiritual world and takes its teachings from a number of religions. I’m reading a book about the founder, Yogananda, perspectives from his brother, in order to try to understand further. I try not to be overly dogmatic in my spiritual practices, see the rationale in most religious practices, realistically view the contradictions when one tries to practice what is in religious books.
Daniel’s training will require that he is cut off from the outside world for a period of time. A two year training, with the first six months consisting of no outside contact. My sister Robyn was recently trying her best to explain this to me-one must go deep to really get in touch with one’s inner life and great artists all do this kind of thing. Yes, I can understand this on some level. Daniel is happy and hopefully will only become happier in life. What more can a parent ask for?
With feelings though there are always so many levels. As a parent with a really good relationship with Daniel, I want to maintain our contact, even though it may only be once/week, which is about what is happening now due to Daniel having limited e-mail access at the Hidden Valley Ashram. I’m told that this is not possible.
Yes, I suppose that a large part of this is about letting go. I’ve thought quite a bit about saying “my” when it comes to one’s children, because there is no “my”. I don’t want to possess another human being and I do want “my” children to be independent and find their own paths and both seemingly have at a very young age. (It’s funny for me to contrast this with the conversations that I’ve had with young adults in India and how involved parents tend to be). (I think that part of this is also letting go of how I was treated as a young adult and the inability, on some level, for my parents to let go resulting in me forcing the issue, but ultimately changing the way that I interacted with my parents, which has been positive). But, yet it is still difficult and I feel this deeply.
Ultimately, this will all work out, I have no doubts about that, because there is no other way. I feel as if I have given both Daniel and Sarah a good value base, that I’ve shown by example what it means to live in the world. I think in large part due to my divorce, both Dan and Sarah have been able to find themselves. I think that on some level they were forced to take paths that they wouldn’t have chosen otherwise, this being self-explanatory.
In the moment then, I can continue to have e-mail conversations with Daniel through July when he starts his “work”. In six months, in January, we will again hopefully be able to resume some contact, and we will both be different, certainly Daniel will be. But, maybe that’s part of the issue as well. It is indeed something to look forward to.
I guess that we all go through this thinking or feeling about those that we’ve known and who are no longer here, at least physically. Still 26 years later, I can still feel the pain, and a sense of loss, when I let myself feel it, when I delve deeply into my inner life. It’s not something that is with me all of the time which is fine and would tend to make me unable to live my life, but it lies there. A choice on my part? Maybe, but a part of my life.
Daniel, my dear son, will be turning 25 on May 15 and will be entering the postulate at Self-Realization Fellowship in July. This means that he will be on the road to becoming a monk. http://www.yogananda-srf.org/tmp/about.aspx?id=64&ekmensel=568fab5c_115_117_btnlink. This is an amazing thing to me. Recently my parents visited Daniel at the Hidden Valley Ashram and they planted a tree for Deanne, a very touching action.
What does it mean that Daniel will become a spiritual figure in my family? Well, of course in my family, one thinks of rabbi’s, but no that’s not what is happening here. SRF is more about the larger world, i.e. the spiritual world and takes its teachings from a number of religions. I’m reading a book about the founder, Yogananda, perspectives from his brother, in order to try to understand further. I try not to be overly dogmatic in my spiritual practices, see the rationale in most religious practices, realistically view the contradictions when one tries to practice what is in religious books.
Daniel’s training will require that he is cut off from the outside world for a period of time. A two year training, with the first six months consisting of no outside contact. My sister Robyn was recently trying her best to explain this to me-one must go deep to really get in touch with one’s inner life and great artists all do this kind of thing. Yes, I can understand this on some level. Daniel is happy and hopefully will only become happier in life. What more can a parent ask for?
With feelings though there are always so many levels. As a parent with a really good relationship with Daniel, I want to maintain our contact, even though it may only be once/week, which is about what is happening now due to Daniel having limited e-mail access at the Hidden Valley Ashram. I’m told that this is not possible.
Yes, I suppose that a large part of this is about letting go. I’ve thought quite a bit about saying “my” when it comes to one’s children, because there is no “my”. I don’t want to possess another human being and I do want “my” children to be independent and find their own paths and both seemingly have at a very young age. (It’s funny for me to contrast this with the conversations that I’ve had with young adults in India and how involved parents tend to be). (I think that part of this is also letting go of how I was treated as a young adult and the inability, on some level, for my parents to let go resulting in me forcing the issue, but ultimately changing the way that I interacted with my parents, which has been positive). But, yet it is still difficult and I feel this deeply.
Ultimately, this will all work out, I have no doubts about that, because there is no other way. I feel as if I have given both Daniel and Sarah a good value base, that I’ve shown by example what it means to live in the world. I think in large part due to my divorce, both Dan and Sarah have been able to find themselves. I think that on some level they were forced to take paths that they wouldn’t have chosen otherwise, this being self-explanatory.
In the moment then, I can continue to have e-mail conversations with Daniel through July when he starts his “work”. In six months, in January, we will again hopefully be able to resume some contact, and we will both be different, certainly Daniel will be. But, maybe that’s part of the issue as well. It is indeed something to look forward to.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
The NBA come to India (and the YMCA)
Last night, right before I started coaching, Troy Justice, the new Director of Basketball Operations in India, came up and said hello. (Troy is a former athletic director as well as the former coach for Athletes in Action) As you can imagine when I saw him approaching me, I knew that it was Troy, as we had become Facebook friends. Troy, with a huge smile, shook my hand and gave me an official NBA cap. We talked for a few minutes and then I started coaching, a bit nervous with Troy there. Troy stayed until 7 PM, talking with a local coach, the person that I coach Saturday nights with and the father of one of the children who at 11 years old is 5'11", a young girl. Before Troy left he came out onto the court and said hello to all of the children and told them that he would come back to do some drills. Troy is off to Mumbai as the NBA is starting a new league http://www.nba.com/india/mahindra/index.html, in a select number of cities.
After Troy left and I was talking to the children, I told them how excited I was and how excited they might be, on the ground floor of the NBA coming to India. Last week I had told the children that the NBA is coming and this week they actually saw it. The magic of India continue for me and I feel chills throughout my body as I write this.
After Troy left and I was talking to the children, I told them how excited I was and how excited they might be, on the ground floor of the NBA coming to India. Last week I had told the children that the NBA is coming and this week they actually saw it. The magic of India continue for me and I feel chills throughout my body as I write this.
Monday, March 22, 2010
What I saw/heard this morning
7 AM-Alarm goes off
7:03-Call from Anil, we have a new baby boy in the house born at 3:30 AM
7:30-On balcony, lots of children running around on the street, apparently girl children are treated as goddesses and get presents and money today.
8:10-During my usual walk to the bus see lots of piglets in the totally dirty stream area.
8:11-See some holy men dressed in orange with a number of large monkeys sitting next to them, all eating together.
8:40-On metro-see one woman twirling a finger in her nose, not so unusual, a man with a big butt, jamming it next to some passengers so that he can get a seat.
7:03-Call from Anil, we have a new baby boy in the house born at 3:30 AM
7:30-On balcony, lots of children running around on the street, apparently girl children are treated as goddesses and get presents and money today.
8:10-During my usual walk to the bus see lots of piglets in the totally dirty stream area.
8:11-See some holy men dressed in orange with a number of large monkeys sitting next to them, all eating together.
8:40-On metro-see one woman twirling a finger in her nose, not so unusual, a man with a big butt, jamming it next to some passengers so that he can get a seat.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Just Thinking
Sitting on the train to Delhi from Kolkata. It’s still in Howrah Station and we have at least a 25 minute wait. I was in Kolkata visiting Onkar, who is continuing to have a rough time at work and therefore his life. When the time comes and he can get out of what he is doing, he may once again be the lovely person who I befriended 28 years ago. But for now, times are tough. Myna, Onky’s wife, has been a beacon of strength. She stands pat, not wavering.
I’ve been spending the past two weeks in somewhat luxurious style, first in Puri and then in Kolkata. (The army just walked by in force with a bomb sniffing dog).
In Puri VSO held its annual Program Area Review (PAR). The hotel was lovely and I shared a room with Len, which, of course was very good. There was a pool, a work out room, a beach, good food, a shower with hot water.
A fishing village, close by, where people used the sea as a toilet, was where I got nipped by a dog. I’m not entirely certain why this dog nipped me, but it did break the skin on my left leg. As the children and one adult informed me through sign language, I needed to get a shot. I proceeded to the local hospital, l with Len by my side, and received both a tetanus and a rabies shot. The cost to enter the hospital was 1 rupee and the medicine, including the syringe, etc., was about 350 rupees. Not expensive for me, even on a volunteer’s wages, but expensive for those living on the street. (I ended up getting one more shot three days later as part of the rabies regimen).
I’m very much enamored by the fishing villages in India, but as I approached this one I noticed men squatting and pooping. There seemed to be little regard for people looking on or for polluting the ocean. It was just the way that it was. Fresh fish coming to shore and fresh excrement leaving the shore a perfect ebb and flow.
Upon leaving Puri, Len and I jumped on a train to Kolkata. My ticket was RAC which meant that I had to share my space with another person. We bought Len’s ticket at the station, a general admission, kind of thing, and I told her just to come and stay with me. Sure enough others showed up and we convinced the conducted to let us both sleep together on the lower berth. We went to sleep around 11:30 PM and were awoken by the conductor at 3 AM asking for the remainder of the fare, which we gladly paid and returned back to sleep. (I’m sitting facing another person at the moment and there is not enough space. He is scratching his foot, dreadfully close to my laptop and hopefully no flakes will fly off. Of course, who knows what kinds of things are already brewing inside of my laptop).
Arrival in Kolkata took place on-time around 8 AM and there Len, Jim, another vol and I stood waiting to be picked up. The driver was close, very close, but it took us almost an hour to finally find him.
Onkar’s home is very beautiful, full of art, due to Myna’s business, and servants due to the Kakar status. There is a cook and his wife, another servant, a sweeper, quite hunched over, a driver, other people who open the gate, a shared expense, a gardener. One person made our bed, brought us water in the evenings, nimboo pani, tea, served us dinner. At the meals table, a bell is rung to call the servants. It’s nice, and one can become quite accustomed to this.
People waiting on others, serves many purposes, economic mainly I would guess. While staying at Onky’s I went to a few people’s homes and they all had servants, just goes with this class of people. It’s expected, it’s part of the fabric and probably many earn some kind of living from this type of work. I don’t really know anybody in the States, or for that matter, elsewhere, who have servants.
I know that I really love being in a foreign environment, probably has to do with my curiosity, my wanting to see things. In the movie Avatar, there was this thing about really seeing the others and things in the world. Maybe it’s the same kind of thing, but I’m always looking, maybe to the point of appearing somewhat disconnected or spacey. I know this about myself, I like to see, those little things that are there, but not always apparent. I suppose that I could look for these kinds of things in the US, but, on some level I know what they are. I don’t know that I’ve looked for the surprises though, at least on a regular basis.
Take for instance my parent’s “retirement community”. It’s the same thing, everyday, the weather, the pool, the what shall we have for dinner. Maybe it’s the same whenever one is in the same environment for a period of time. I don’t know, when I was staying with my parents, if I truly looked at things. Don’t get me wrong, because in India there is somewhat of a sameness, I mean there’s dirt almost everywhere, I don’t know that communities all look that different, there is that kind of Indian look to things. But there still remain surprises, but it may just be my state of mind, wanting to see more.
I think that I could make a career of this, i.e. living overseas, as a volunteer. I could also get an overseas job, however I do enjoy the freedom. Even though I’m working for the Indian government I do feel as if I have a lot of freedom to somewhat decide how I do my job. One doesn’t need that much money to live on, but there are the trade offs, not seeing friends and family as often, having people come and go like we’re in Oz. I do miss those connections and it’s not the same through Skype, but I wonder if I can go back.
But maybe it’s not going back because I haven’t been there yet. There would be some type of newness as to how I approach things just because of this experience, but there would be the sameness of just being with Americans. Yes, the US is a diverse country and I suppose that I could live in a large city, but then I would need more money to live on. What to do?
In reality I need to keep feeling what is right for me and then channel my energy towards that. Sitting with this can be somewhat uncomfortable. I could settle for the sameness, but that makes me grimace. I just don’t think so.
I’ve been spending the past two weeks in somewhat luxurious style, first in Puri and then in Kolkata. (The army just walked by in force with a bomb sniffing dog).
In Puri VSO held its annual Program Area Review (PAR). The hotel was lovely and I shared a room with Len, which, of course was very good. There was a pool, a work out room, a beach, good food, a shower with hot water.
A fishing village, close by, where people used the sea as a toilet, was where I got nipped by a dog. I’m not entirely certain why this dog nipped me, but it did break the skin on my left leg. As the children and one adult informed me through sign language, I needed to get a shot. I proceeded to the local hospital, l with Len by my side, and received both a tetanus and a rabies shot. The cost to enter the hospital was 1 rupee and the medicine, including the syringe, etc., was about 350 rupees. Not expensive for me, even on a volunteer’s wages, but expensive for those living on the street. (I ended up getting one more shot three days later as part of the rabies regimen).
I’m very much enamored by the fishing villages in India, but as I approached this one I noticed men squatting and pooping. There seemed to be little regard for people looking on or for polluting the ocean. It was just the way that it was. Fresh fish coming to shore and fresh excrement leaving the shore a perfect ebb and flow.
Upon leaving Puri, Len and I jumped on a train to Kolkata. My ticket was RAC which meant that I had to share my space with another person. We bought Len’s ticket at the station, a general admission, kind of thing, and I told her just to come and stay with me. Sure enough others showed up and we convinced the conducted to let us both sleep together on the lower berth. We went to sleep around 11:30 PM and were awoken by the conductor at 3 AM asking for the remainder of the fare, which we gladly paid and returned back to sleep. (I’m sitting facing another person at the moment and there is not enough space. He is scratching his foot, dreadfully close to my laptop and hopefully no flakes will fly off. Of course, who knows what kinds of things are already brewing inside of my laptop).
Arrival in Kolkata took place on-time around 8 AM and there Len, Jim, another vol and I stood waiting to be picked up. The driver was close, very close, but it took us almost an hour to finally find him.
Onkar’s home is very beautiful, full of art, due to Myna’s business, and servants due to the Kakar status. There is a cook and his wife, another servant, a sweeper, quite hunched over, a driver, other people who open the gate, a shared expense, a gardener. One person made our bed, brought us water in the evenings, nimboo pani, tea, served us dinner. At the meals table, a bell is rung to call the servants. It’s nice, and one can become quite accustomed to this.
People waiting on others, serves many purposes, economic mainly I would guess. While staying at Onky’s I went to a few people’s homes and they all had servants, just goes with this class of people. It’s expected, it’s part of the fabric and probably many earn some kind of living from this type of work. I don’t really know anybody in the States, or for that matter, elsewhere, who have servants.
I know that I really love being in a foreign environment, probably has to do with my curiosity, my wanting to see things. In the movie Avatar, there was this thing about really seeing the others and things in the world. Maybe it’s the same kind of thing, but I’m always looking, maybe to the point of appearing somewhat disconnected or spacey. I know this about myself, I like to see, those little things that are there, but not always apparent. I suppose that I could look for these kinds of things in the US, but, on some level I know what they are. I don’t know that I’ve looked for the surprises though, at least on a regular basis.
Take for instance my parent’s “retirement community”. It’s the same thing, everyday, the weather, the pool, the what shall we have for dinner. Maybe it’s the same whenever one is in the same environment for a period of time. I don’t know, when I was staying with my parents, if I truly looked at things. Don’t get me wrong, because in India there is somewhat of a sameness, I mean there’s dirt almost everywhere, I don’t know that communities all look that different, there is that kind of Indian look to things. But there still remain surprises, but it may just be my state of mind, wanting to see more.
I think that I could make a career of this, i.e. living overseas, as a volunteer. I could also get an overseas job, however I do enjoy the freedom. Even though I’m working for the Indian government I do feel as if I have a lot of freedom to somewhat decide how I do my job. One doesn’t need that much money to live on, but there are the trade offs, not seeing friends and family as often, having people come and go like we’re in Oz. I do miss those connections and it’s not the same through Skype, but I wonder if I can go back.
But maybe it’s not going back because I haven’t been there yet. There would be some type of newness as to how I approach things just because of this experience, but there would be the sameness of just being with Americans. Yes, the US is a diverse country and I suppose that I could live in a large city, but then I would need more money to live on. What to do?
In reality I need to keep feeling what is right for me and then channel my energy towards that. Sitting with this can be somewhat uncomfortable. I could settle for the sameness, but that makes me grimace. I just don’t think so.
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