I think that I will most likely “process” India for the rest of my life. The daily frustrations, and “lack of proper etiquette” encourages me to continually babble cuss words, but the magic tempers and calms me to the point of being in the moment. How does one even begin to describe the “magic”, that I only remember glimpses of in the United States?
On the eve of the Chhath Puja, I see lights and walk across an intersection to a market that this morning was a vacant lot. This is my third Chhath and most likely my last as this festival falls exactly six days after Diwali every year. The familiar coconuts, pineapples and straw baskets lie on the floors of make-shift covered stalls with Indians of all shapes and sizes trying to sell them. The bananas and apple lie on push carts across from the stalls. I notice the long stalks of palm leaves accompanying many families, weaving their way across the busy streets, dodging cars, buses, jitneys and motorcycles. Never mind the traffic signal down the street which on occasion turns red with the drivers sometimes even stopping. (When giving directions in India everyone always talks about going to the “red” light as an identifying marker, as if the light is always red).
Right before the “red” light I take a left and there on my right, the park with a three foot deep, large “cesspool”, filled only by the monsoon rains, where people washed their clothes and children swam during the hot summer months and who knows what else, has been very recently drained, scraped and refilled. The park fence has recently been painted a shade of aqua and a large area apparently for drying rugs and other things has been painted white. I notice the area around the park has been cleaned up, when only this morning there was a huge pile of pooja materials.
There is a ring of pearl lights running around and reflected in the pool. As I scan the park I see lights placed in trees throughout, realizing once again that this magic is only seen once every year. I wrap around the park to the right and notice a gigantic white clothed entrance and a number of light strings placed on a fence behind the entrance. This morning when I left for work none of these props could be seen.
Things spring up out of the dust, which is swept every morning, on a regular basis for weddings, festivals, parties. One night the area around the park may be pitch black, but on the next there is a large tent with lots of people, the name of the tent renter and the words, “Shilpa weds Anil”. The next morning on my way to work the only remains are the tent skeletons. That evening an entire new tent may go up with statues of various “Gods”, loud music playing and male cooks stirring the contents of gigantic pots to make a variety of Indian dishes.
This is the India that I will miss as I visit the United States in March. There will be no sounds, except the television or me listening to the music on my laptop. There will be nothing happening in the streets except people spacing out in their cars. The “magic’ will be so pre-planned that it really isn’t. On those evenings when I’m in the US, I will sit and remember and play back the magic that I’ve found in India.
Monday, October 31, 2011
Monday, September 19, 2011
Kathmandu, Nepal
As my visa is for Business, multi-entry with the stipulation that I leave every 180 days, VSO India paid for me to travel to Kathmandu. I was all too happy to go, as Nepal had been on my list of places that I wanted to visit. Taking advantage of every opportunity that presents itself, I had previously written to VSO Nepal to see if I might do a workshop. Through lots of persistence and mails, VSON indicated that they wanted a workshop on Fundraising Planning. This would mean training staff and volunteers. VSON also indicated that they wanted me to do a one day workshop for an NGO, TSDCBD . To my way of thinking, no problem.
I arrived on Friday September 9 around 4 PM, Kathmandu time, which is 15 minutes ahead of New Delhi. Strange given that India is also off by ½ hour to other world times. The Kathmandu airport is quite small and one has to deplane to a bus and then drive about 50 paces to the terminal. But from the air I could tell that Kathmandu was a very different city than Delhi, with lots of greenery and some hills surrounding the valley in which Kathmandu was nestled.
I went to get my visa and didn’t bring enough Indian rupees for both the visa, $25, and the passport photo, 230 Nepali rupees. I left my passport with the visa officials, causing a bit of anxiety, and had to go outside of the terminal to an ATM. The first ATM was not working but I found another one and proceeded to get 5000 Nepali Rupees, which at the exchange rate is about 3000 Indian Rupees. I returned, without any major issues to the visa area, gave the money to the exchange guy, who then converted the Nepali Rupees to dollars to pay the visa people. I also took my passport/visa photo and I had my visa.
I then looked for the VSON driver, Prem, who was going to pick me up. Instead of looking for a sign that said VSO, I looked for my name and of course, didn’t see anything. I went to a tourist counter and called VSON and the Pacific Guest House, where I would be staying. Finally around 5 PM, Prem came to the Tourist Counter and told me that he had been waiting for some time, with the VSO sign.
I felt immediately at ease as I made my way into the front seat next to Prem. Kathmandu is a much smaller city than Delhi and as we drove I noticed more cleanliness, less people and a different building style. (People’s perceptions are so interesting as they said Kathmandu is a very dirty city). It didn’t feel overwhelming as Delhi might to the first time visitor. We drove to the Guest House and I met up with Arlene, the VSON Director.
Arlene has been around the world working with VSO, being in this most recent job for about 1.5 years. As a VSO Country Director there is a lot of balancing, with volunteers, staff, donors, governments, partner NGOs, etc. A super challenge and even though Arlene was somewhat diminutive in stature she seemed very much up for the challenge. I think that the challenge is especially great in Nepal where the government is very new and the local press, during the week that I was there, posted a number of articles about the public’s wariness towards INGOs and NGO’s.
On Saturday I decided to walk a bit, having been given some tips from one of the VSO vols. I went to a place called Tamal, which is a large tourist focused area. Lots of stuff and the usual tourist, “come with me”. I spent only a little bit of time there as it was close to the Pacific and I wanted to get my bearings. I then made my way up a main street and had momos for lunch and then to the Shangri-La Hotel where I was going to meet some of the volunteers in order to go on a HASH walk.
I had never heard of the HASH House Harriers prior to coming to Kathmandu but apparently these walks/runs happen in communities around the world. I met up with a number of the volunteers, including Tiffany, Dorieke and John, as we crammed into a taxi. We went outside of Kathmandu to an area with a lot of green hills. There was a group of maybe 50 people, some walkers, some runners. We had an opening circle and then the runners took off, soon followed by the walkers.
I spent most of the time being in awe of the green hills and talking to a lovely, young Nepali woman. She told me about her family, obtaining her Master’s in English, etc. It’s these types of conversations that really make my work special. Connections occur even though we grew up in very different worlds. (I also ended up talking with a man who is doing, at least what seemed to me great development work. He has been involved in getting roads to rural areas, employing the rural folks, helping them to set up self help savings groups, planting more vegetables for a better diet, etc). We ended up walking through a village, which is something that I’ve come to want to see more of in India. Although I can’t communicate with the villagers, what might seem as simple lives seem so extraordinary to me. After the walk we all circled up again and people did their drinking, singing. All in all it was great fun.
Although my new friends T and J were going out to listen to some music I decided that I wanted to go back to the Guest House as I would be working on Sunday. I was rewarded as I saw a number of people gathering on the badminton court cum square outside of the Pacific. As I sat talking to a young man named Arun, a crowd of maybe 3-400 people lined the square on three sides. As two dancers with very large masks came out a band played Nepali music. It gave me a strong sense of community which in that moment I felt a part of.
Sunday was a good day, as eight staff and one Japanese volunteer joined me from TSDCBD to do a one day fundraising workshop. I truly appreciate the seriousness of people partially brought on, in this case, by a need to diversify the funding base. This NGO has a lot of opportunities and who knows, one day I might be able to help them further.
From Monday-Wednesday I spent time at VSO Nepal with 16 volunteers and staff. We had wonderful conversations and did really good work providing me with some opportunity to see another Programme Office. I always say that people are people no matter where they live in the world. I’m curious to see if this holds throughout my life and the places that I’m able to visit in the future. My connection with VSO Nepal will continue as I will help them with further developing their fundraising plan and integrating it into their strategic plan.
I have to say that I really enjoyed meeting the staff and volunteers. The volunteers are really exceptional, learning the Nepali and regional languages in their efforts to truly fit in. (Certainly, my one regret is that I haven’t truly put in the effort to learn Hindi). I spent some time talking to G, who to me, would be a great mentor. G and his wife are retired and working outside of Kathmandu. T is an American who has traveled quite a bit and has done incredible work throughout her life. J reminds me of my good friend Marky in that they are both musicians and real go getters. J is in a band and I saw a video of him playing lead guitar on the Cure song, “It’s Friday I’m in Love”. Who would have ever thought that I would be watching something like this in Nepal? A and D are wonderful volunteers from Holland and man oh man are they tall. Have to get them playing b-ball next time I see them. Of course I also did a little b-ball ice breaker and my lion, which I’m becoming known for throughout India! ( I also saw some Army guys getting ready to play wheelchair b-ball one morning on my way to VSON)
On Monday night I was looking at a menu in a restaurant when a woman inside said this is on the list of good restaurants. I walked in and asked to sit with and have dinner with the two friends from Peru who were living in the US. The pizza was fabulous! Openness is something that is serving me well, helping me to meet and share experiences with others from around the world. On Tuesday night I had a really good dinner of tofu and rice and share momos with a number of volunteers. Riding the local bus back to the Pacific with T and A was really good for me to understand how the volunteers typically made their way around Kathmandu.
On Wednesday I walked with E, another great volunteer from the US from the Pacific to the VSON office. E really knows Kathmandu and it was wonderful having her as my tour guide as we walked through numerous neighborhoods, markets, past shrines and greeted a number of her friends. E was in the PC in India in the mid-60’s and her depth of information had me listening in rapt attention. On Wednesday night E took me to hear some Nepali music which I truly appreciated as the musicians were working to raise money for education for their village children.
Thursday morning E. accompanied me back to the Durbar Square which is a World Heritage site. This multi-temple, shrine area is a place that I felt immediately enriched my life.
After this walk, I was able to rest up a bit and then had a Chinese lunch with Arlene after which I went to the airport.
As soon as I was on the plane I knew that I was back in Delhi and this proved to be correct. Once I landed I came to find that the metro wasn’t running, the airport pathways were slippery due to lots of water and the pre-paid taxis took a long time to arrive due to traffic jams caused by the rain!
I know that I want to see many of the people that I met up with again, hopefully will see T. in the US in March, and possibly do some work in Kathmandu if things align correctly. My experiences continue to tell me that the world is large and that it is very open to me if I remain open to the world. I feel my privilege everyday in my home but know that this very same luck of being born in the US makes it possible for me to continue to lead this extraordinary life.
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.2447934403657.215017.1410846536&l=9cb993f195&type=1. Trainings
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.2447771199577.215013.1410846536&l=a7fbe282c9&type=1. Kathmandu
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.2447835881194.215014.1410846536&l=0f0203a37f&type=1 Durbar Square
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.2447883322380.215016.1410846536&l=beedbbe33f&type=1 HASH Walk
I arrived on Friday September 9 around 4 PM, Kathmandu time, which is 15 minutes ahead of New Delhi. Strange given that India is also off by ½ hour to other world times. The Kathmandu airport is quite small and one has to deplane to a bus and then drive about 50 paces to the terminal. But from the air I could tell that Kathmandu was a very different city than Delhi, with lots of greenery and some hills surrounding the valley in which Kathmandu was nestled.
I went to get my visa and didn’t bring enough Indian rupees for both the visa, $25, and the passport photo, 230 Nepali rupees. I left my passport with the visa officials, causing a bit of anxiety, and had to go outside of the terminal to an ATM. The first ATM was not working but I found another one and proceeded to get 5000 Nepali Rupees, which at the exchange rate is about 3000 Indian Rupees. I returned, without any major issues to the visa area, gave the money to the exchange guy, who then converted the Nepali Rupees to dollars to pay the visa people. I also took my passport/visa photo and I had my visa.
I then looked for the VSON driver, Prem, who was going to pick me up. Instead of looking for a sign that said VSO, I looked for my name and of course, didn’t see anything. I went to a tourist counter and called VSON and the Pacific Guest House, where I would be staying. Finally around 5 PM, Prem came to the Tourist Counter and told me that he had been waiting for some time, with the VSO sign.
I felt immediately at ease as I made my way into the front seat next to Prem. Kathmandu is a much smaller city than Delhi and as we drove I noticed more cleanliness, less people and a different building style. (People’s perceptions are so interesting as they said Kathmandu is a very dirty city). It didn’t feel overwhelming as Delhi might to the first time visitor. We drove to the Guest House and I met up with Arlene, the VSON Director.
Arlene has been around the world working with VSO, being in this most recent job for about 1.5 years. As a VSO Country Director there is a lot of balancing, with volunteers, staff, donors, governments, partner NGOs, etc. A super challenge and even though Arlene was somewhat diminutive in stature she seemed very much up for the challenge. I think that the challenge is especially great in Nepal where the government is very new and the local press, during the week that I was there, posted a number of articles about the public’s wariness towards INGOs and NGO’s.
On Saturday I decided to walk a bit, having been given some tips from one of the VSO vols. I went to a place called Tamal, which is a large tourist focused area. Lots of stuff and the usual tourist, “come with me”. I spent only a little bit of time there as it was close to the Pacific and I wanted to get my bearings. I then made my way up a main street and had momos for lunch and then to the Shangri-La Hotel where I was going to meet some of the volunteers in order to go on a HASH walk.
I had never heard of the HASH House Harriers prior to coming to Kathmandu but apparently these walks/runs happen in communities around the world. I met up with a number of the volunteers, including Tiffany, Dorieke and John, as we crammed into a taxi. We went outside of Kathmandu to an area with a lot of green hills. There was a group of maybe 50 people, some walkers, some runners. We had an opening circle and then the runners took off, soon followed by the walkers.
I spent most of the time being in awe of the green hills and talking to a lovely, young Nepali woman. She told me about her family, obtaining her Master’s in English, etc. It’s these types of conversations that really make my work special. Connections occur even though we grew up in very different worlds. (I also ended up talking with a man who is doing, at least what seemed to me great development work. He has been involved in getting roads to rural areas, employing the rural folks, helping them to set up self help savings groups, planting more vegetables for a better diet, etc). We ended up walking through a village, which is something that I’ve come to want to see more of in India. Although I can’t communicate with the villagers, what might seem as simple lives seem so extraordinary to me. After the walk we all circled up again and people did their drinking, singing. All in all it was great fun.
Although my new friends T and J were going out to listen to some music I decided that I wanted to go back to the Guest House as I would be working on Sunday. I was rewarded as I saw a number of people gathering on the badminton court cum square outside of the Pacific. As I sat talking to a young man named Arun, a crowd of maybe 3-400 people lined the square on three sides. As two dancers with very large masks came out a band played Nepali music. It gave me a strong sense of community which in that moment I felt a part of.
Sunday was a good day, as eight staff and one Japanese volunteer joined me from TSDCBD to do a one day fundraising workshop. I truly appreciate the seriousness of people partially brought on, in this case, by a need to diversify the funding base. This NGO has a lot of opportunities and who knows, one day I might be able to help them further.
From Monday-Wednesday I spent time at VSO Nepal with 16 volunteers and staff. We had wonderful conversations and did really good work providing me with some opportunity to see another Programme Office. I always say that people are people no matter where they live in the world. I’m curious to see if this holds throughout my life and the places that I’m able to visit in the future. My connection with VSO Nepal will continue as I will help them with further developing their fundraising plan and integrating it into their strategic plan.
I have to say that I really enjoyed meeting the staff and volunteers. The volunteers are really exceptional, learning the Nepali and regional languages in their efforts to truly fit in. (Certainly, my one regret is that I haven’t truly put in the effort to learn Hindi). I spent some time talking to G, who to me, would be a great mentor. G and his wife are retired and working outside of Kathmandu. T is an American who has traveled quite a bit and has done incredible work throughout her life. J reminds me of my good friend Marky in that they are both musicians and real go getters. J is in a band and I saw a video of him playing lead guitar on the Cure song, “It’s Friday I’m in Love”. Who would have ever thought that I would be watching something like this in Nepal? A and D are wonderful volunteers from Holland and man oh man are they tall. Have to get them playing b-ball next time I see them. Of course I also did a little b-ball ice breaker and my lion, which I’m becoming known for throughout India! ( I also saw some Army guys getting ready to play wheelchair b-ball one morning on my way to VSON)
On Monday night I was looking at a menu in a restaurant when a woman inside said this is on the list of good restaurants. I walked in and asked to sit with and have dinner with the two friends from Peru who were living in the US. The pizza was fabulous! Openness is something that is serving me well, helping me to meet and share experiences with others from around the world. On Tuesday night I had a really good dinner of tofu and rice and share momos with a number of volunteers. Riding the local bus back to the Pacific with T and A was really good for me to understand how the volunteers typically made their way around Kathmandu.
On Wednesday I walked with E, another great volunteer from the US from the Pacific to the VSON office. E really knows Kathmandu and it was wonderful having her as my tour guide as we walked through numerous neighborhoods, markets, past shrines and greeted a number of her friends. E was in the PC in India in the mid-60’s and her depth of information had me listening in rapt attention. On Wednesday night E took me to hear some Nepali music which I truly appreciated as the musicians were working to raise money for education for their village children.
Thursday morning E. accompanied me back to the Durbar Square which is a World Heritage site. This multi-temple, shrine area is a place that I felt immediately enriched my life.
After this walk, I was able to rest up a bit and then had a Chinese lunch with Arlene after which I went to the airport.
As soon as I was on the plane I knew that I was back in Delhi and this proved to be correct. Once I landed I came to find that the metro wasn’t running, the airport pathways were slippery due to lots of water and the pre-paid taxis took a long time to arrive due to traffic jams caused by the rain!
I know that I want to see many of the people that I met up with again, hopefully will see T. in the US in March, and possibly do some work in Kathmandu if things align correctly. My experiences continue to tell me that the world is large and that it is very open to me if I remain open to the world. I feel my privilege everyday in my home but know that this very same luck of being born in the US makes it possible for me to continue to lead this extraordinary life.
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.2447934403657.215017.1410846536&l=9cb993f195&type=1. Trainings
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.2447771199577.215013.1410846536&l=a7fbe282c9&type=1. Kathmandu
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.2447835881194.215014.1410846536&l=0f0203a37f&type=1 Durbar Square
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.2447883322380.215016.1410846536&l=beedbbe33f&type=1 HASH Walk
Friday, June 17, 2011
A Bad Day?
Yesterday I lost a blog that I had written when it wouldn’t copy into my blog on the internet, I had cut it from my Word document and then mistakenly saved the document without remembering to put the blog back. In the evening I received an e-mail from my realtor stating that the potential buyer’s home inspection said that my roof was bad and that I had lots of termites.
After a somewhat sleepless night I awoke to thinking what can I do, my funds are running low, I have to do some more work on my home to sell it, in other words a bit of a freak out. I arrived at work and talked to my friend Mark in China who calmed me down and I hoped to receive another e-mail from my realtor telling me further about the extent of the problem and whether the buyer has now given up.
Nothing came and I knew that the realtor was sleeping, probably having nightmares about this stupid little house that she thought might sell fairly quickly but due to market conditions has had only one serious offer in three months.
I next went to a meeting with a potential funder of a program that I’ve been working on and although we were funded last year they decided to fund a different piece this year, leaving us scrambling to find a funder. I remained positive thinking a blessing in disguise as now we will diversify our funding base a bit.
I went to a second meeting with a large television station, whose owner I had met in the airport when I traveled to Mumbai at the end of last month. The staff whom I met with said yes we’re interested but you have to find a sponsor. Another strike.
Now I sit in my house having hoped to correspond a bit with my realtor but having no internet connection. The woes of it all.
When I came home tonight I took my usual route, metro, bus, then walk. I passed numerous people, who probably live in a hovel or somewhere on the street, fanning their roasted corn and selling each ear for 5-7 rupees. I saw “my Indian family” members always greeting me with a smile, I came upstairs cooked food from my refrigerator, ate some sweet corn and now I sit in a lighted room, listening to the latest music, with a fan running overhead. Yes, I’m sweating, but I have lights and this fan and my a/c awaits me when I go to sleep.
What’s the rub? Well, of course, I worry in my western way of anxiety, my home, well maybe it needs a lot of work. Should I tell the bank that they can have it, get rid of the termites, fix the roof? What about those children, women and men selling that corn, how could I possibly explain this to them? Their worries, where do I sleep, how do I get a few rupees to feed myself and my family, can I find clean water?
Many times I just don’t get it and make myself sick thinking the sky is falling. I sit in India among a large portion of the world’s poor but I fall inside myself, seeing what is out there but never-the-less worry, legitimately, about what is happening with my home.
Tears for Fears is telling me “Change, you can change” and I suppose that is correct, thinking if only this, then it will be ok. But is it ever really ok, when the external world has such a major impact on me?
I know that I’m missing something when I see all of those children sitting next to their parents selling the roasted corn. Yes, it’s all relative to one’s experiences, and one day maybe I will change, as we say in India, “let’s see”.
After a somewhat sleepless night I awoke to thinking what can I do, my funds are running low, I have to do some more work on my home to sell it, in other words a bit of a freak out. I arrived at work and talked to my friend Mark in China who calmed me down and I hoped to receive another e-mail from my realtor telling me further about the extent of the problem and whether the buyer has now given up.
Nothing came and I knew that the realtor was sleeping, probably having nightmares about this stupid little house that she thought might sell fairly quickly but due to market conditions has had only one serious offer in three months.
I next went to a meeting with a potential funder of a program that I’ve been working on and although we were funded last year they decided to fund a different piece this year, leaving us scrambling to find a funder. I remained positive thinking a blessing in disguise as now we will diversify our funding base a bit.
I went to a second meeting with a large television station, whose owner I had met in the airport when I traveled to Mumbai at the end of last month. The staff whom I met with said yes we’re interested but you have to find a sponsor. Another strike.
Now I sit in my house having hoped to correspond a bit with my realtor but having no internet connection. The woes of it all.
When I came home tonight I took my usual route, metro, bus, then walk. I passed numerous people, who probably live in a hovel or somewhere on the street, fanning their roasted corn and selling each ear for 5-7 rupees. I saw “my Indian family” members always greeting me with a smile, I came upstairs cooked food from my refrigerator, ate some sweet corn and now I sit in a lighted room, listening to the latest music, with a fan running overhead. Yes, I’m sweating, but I have lights and this fan and my a/c awaits me when I go to sleep.
What’s the rub? Well, of course, I worry in my western way of anxiety, my home, well maybe it needs a lot of work. Should I tell the bank that they can have it, get rid of the termites, fix the roof? What about those children, women and men selling that corn, how could I possibly explain this to them? Their worries, where do I sleep, how do I get a few rupees to feed myself and my family, can I find clean water?
Many times I just don’t get it and make myself sick thinking the sky is falling. I sit in India among a large portion of the world’s poor but I fall inside myself, seeing what is out there but never-the-less worry, legitimately, about what is happening with my home.
Tears for Fears is telling me “Change, you can change” and I suppose that is correct, thinking if only this, then it will be ok. But is it ever really ok, when the external world has such a major impact on me?
I know that I’m missing something when I see all of those children sitting next to their parents selling the roasted corn. Yes, it’s all relative to one’s experiences, and one day maybe I will change, as we say in India, “let’s see”.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Varanasi
Sitting in the lobby of the Hotel Haifa, waiting for 6 PM, to leave for the train station. The lobby fan blows around hot, hot air and there is little relief from the summer. I stayed at this same hotel some five years earlier with Daniel and Sarah. I haven’t found much change in Varanasi since I was last here, maybe prices are higher, there are more people, more pollution, the Ganga still looks the same, the burning ghats, but it is different.
The train that Len and I took was rather eventful as we decided to board even though we were on a wait list, e-ticket, which clearly stated don’t get on the train if this is your circumstance. We didn’t read this until a rather nasty conductor said that you must pay the fare plus a 250 rupee penalty each, unless you go to sleeper class. We tried sleeper class, but there wasn’t even a place to stand, let alone a place to sit or sleep. I walked through trying to follow Len and was stuck numerous times, with my back pack. We walked past the kitchen which felt like hell and given the number of people and the circumstances I thought this must be it.
Finally, after much argument, we paid the fare plus the penalty, but given the number of people on the train this didn’t even entitle us to a berth. We could only sit in between the cars where one of the “peon’s” offered to give Len a blanket for 500 rupees, sheer corruption. One man seeing my plight said take my blanket and pillow, which I did and found myself a place under a seat, between cars on the floor. I was so tired that I laid down on one side but was woken up numerous times given that I was sleeping in front of a door. This went on throughout the night and needless to say I was quite tired when I finally awoke for good around 6 AM. There was also the matter of the air conditioner which kept our area quite cold. I was somewhat more fortunate than Len as she tried to sleep sitting up all night.
From the train we took a rickshaw and I recognized and as we approached the exterior of the Haifa Hotel I recognized it immediately. There is also quite a story leading up to making reservations this time as there was a false e-mail address attached to the hotel. In making our reservations I received one confirmation e-mail and one stating that I must send some money via Western Union to the Secretary of the Hotel residing in the UK. Fortunately I didn’t send any funds. However, when I wrote to the supposed Secretary and told him that he was a liar, he wrote back stating that, “this was an insult” and that he would cancel my reservation. He also told me that there was no Western Union at the Hotel which, of course, was all a lie. I’m trying to find out who this guy is, so let’s see if anything further comes.
Once we checked in, we went directly to sleep which was not difficult given the previous evening on the train. When we awoke we went directly to the Vaatika Café, which as I had remembered from 2006, served incredible apple pie and brick oven pizza. It was so very good and given the amount of Indian food that I eat, was a welcomed reprieve. I had remembered one of the waiters, and of course, Anil was still there. Many westerners, as well as Indians, frequent the Café, none-the-less, it was just as wonderful as I had remembered.
Varanasi is one of the seven holy cities in India, that all Hindus want to visit. The Ganges is filled with boats, people bathing, washing their clothes, brushing their teeth, fishing, cremated bodies, etc. From the ghats one can see a time of true grandeur, when really wealthy individuals spent the money to build these. Now they are somewhat crumbling as, like many things in India, maintenance is not part of the equation. One of the truely amazing sites are the burning ghats, where people bring the bodies of their loved ones and place them upon funeral pyres. One can watch this from an observation area. The bodies are wrapped in shrouds, washed in the Ganges, placed on the pyre and then lit. Last time that I was here I watched with my daughter and remember asking her if this was strange? Her reply was no. This time I could clearly see the bodies but the flames were so consuming that I couldn’t tell the difference between the wood, the fire and the body.
The one body that I could truly make out because the shroud was taken off, was very lifeless, nothing more than a very wiry doll. The men of the family lifted this “doll” onto the wood and then covered it with more wood. We left before the flame was lit, but later on during the evening saw the flames of this particular pyre.
I didn’t see many tears among the people, mainly men, watching their loved ones turning into powder. Indians must be sad when a loved one dies, but I’m not sure that they show the same kind of grief that I’ve seen from Americans. Indians want to be cremated in Varanasi and maybe if a loved one makes it here things are more accepted. I’m not entirely sure but as the owner of Vaatika told us, if you die in Varanasi you don’t have to be reincarnated, and many people don’t want this, due to the suffering of life.
Our first day completed and totally exhausted we had some falafel at the restaurant next to our hotel, watched some television and immediately fell asleep.
On Tuesday morning I awoke to stomach issues. They have never been quite far away since living in India, it’s just part of what we all deal with. Regardless I had a good bagel at the Brown Bread Bakery and we went off to Sarnath which is a community where the Buddha gave his first sermon. It was way too hot and we shouldn’t have been out in the sun, but we braved the 10 KM through roads that needed to be totally remade. Due to the traffic it took quite a bit of time. We had to pay 100 rupees each to get into what was once a monastery. Typically I argue for Indian prices, which in this case was 5 rupees, but the heat and my stomach just left me with little energy. Fortunately there was a beautiful a/c museum, with really, nice clean bathrooms that provided some relief. (Let me just state here that the bathrooms do make a difference). The symbol of India, the original three lions statue, was in this museum as it had been near the monastery. This was one of the best museums that I’ve been in India, very clean, well captioned and clean. One would expect this kind of thing in a large city, but in India one needs to expect the unexpected.
The rickshaw driver, who had now become our personal driver, got us back to the Haifa where we had some more middle eastern food and then went to sleep. The heat can really knock one out and this is exactly what happened as we awoke more than 3+ hours later as it was getting dark. I slept in that middle state between sleeping and waking, not quite being able to awake but knowing that I was dreaming. Maybe it was just being in Varanasi.
We finally awoke and took a bicycle rickshaw to the main ghat where there was a huge pooja taking place. Varanasi in many ways reminds me of old Delhi, narrow streets, way too many people, too much traffic, no rules. We had to walk part of the way to the ghat as the rickshaw left us off in a very congested area. Once we made it to the ghat it was covered with people. The Ganges was also filled with boats. There were six or so priests, performing a ceremony with some fire.
It is always a site for me to witness these religious events which are so very plentiful in India. We stayed and watched for a time and then walked to see the next ceremony, the multitude of people. Since it was too far to walk we took a boat to Tulsi Ghat where Vaatika Café is. This must have taken a good half an hour to 45 minutes and fortunately the boat was placed next to the banks so that we didn’t have to touch the water when we boarded. Yes, it is holy but I look only at the fecal coliform counts which are at 1.5 million fecal coliform bacteria per 100 ml of water. Water safe for bathing should be 500 or less. Yes, people were swimming and dunking themselves and fishing. I must say that it didn’t seem to bother anyone.
I laid down on the boat and actually saw some stars, which are something that I don’t see very often in Delhi. The night air was warm but this proved to be quite a treat. We ate again at Vaatika, Len had ravioli and I had a banana honey pancake, again a treat, as my stomach was now cooperating.
Our final day in Varanasi, as I slept Len went to Vaatika for breakfast. I decided to have corn flakes and fresh fruit, which is my typical breakfast, in the Haifa restaurant. After this we went shopping at the Agrawal Toy Emporium, a place that I had purchased a carved mirror from in 2006. We talked with the owner who showed us an article noting that his grandfather had started the store some 85 years ago. I saw the mirror that I had purchased and bought some more as well as some other items. It was a treat as the store is air conditioned.
After this we went to the Vaatika for lunch and enjoyed spaghetti with tomato sauce and a mushroom pizza and of course apple pie for dessert. I gave my card to Anil and the owner Gopil came and talked to us for some time. He started the restaurant in 1993 and has always lived in Varanassi. He has six brothers, one of whom is a priest. It was a nice conversation and I hope to meet up with Gopil and Anil, the waiter that I remembered again before I leave India.
It is 5:30 PM almost time to leave for the train station. Our personal rickshaw driver has been waiting all day for this. His little helper Rakesh, who accompanied us yesterday had also been waiting for us, trying to sell us postcards. I ended up buying him some cookies as he found us today when we were walking around.
The rickshaw driver wanted to charge us way too much so we found another guy for about half the price. The train back to Delhi was wonderful as Len and I each had our own berth. There were a number of children sitting across from us kind of loud and I asked them to quiet down and then started talking to them. We ended up playing cards with them, taught them War and Go Fish. They were all just lovely ranging in age from about 6 to 13. Very well mannered, with beautiful smiles. In the morning when we woke up they were waiting to play again. We made it back successfully to the Delhi oven.
Varanasi certainly didn’t have the same feeling for me as when I first visited India in February 2006, when everything was so new and I was a wide eyed tourist. The weather was also much cooler at that time. Living in India for two plus years has given me a very different perspective. I see the congestion, pollution, the mass of humanity with not much to do to occupy their days, the poverty. India continues to be a country on the verge of progressing but also staying the way that it has been. The advances continue, more people have money, but I really wonder how far this country will move forward. It is just the mass of humanity that makes me state this.
Varanasi is a treasure and like most places I just come to love the people and how I’m generally treated by those willing to talk. One still gets the typical tourist stuff, the over charging, the continual buy this, just come and look, it sometimes gets on my nerves, but most of the time I can just say no thanks. It all continues to be part of Incredible India, the land of everything.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
How do I know that I'm back in India
I've been back for eight days and besides the obvious, cows, monkeys and dogs, the dust, the heat, the language, our flat, the children, skyping across the world, I know that I'm back in Mother India, another planet.
Today being holi, people are outside in a festive mood, splattering each other with various colours through water, smearing, balloons, and other means. It is a joy to play holi with the children in the neighborhood as they really seem to enjoy getting the westerner.
Last night in the park next to our flat, there was a burning of wood, an effigy as part of the celebration. People burned some wheat stalks and then brought this to their homes to hang onto until next year. Of course, there was music.
During the week, children seeing me would throw water balloons and I would avoid them and then stick out my tongue, causing a more concerted effort on their part to hit me.
I recently had to have some x-rays, the cost for one was 160 rupees or about $3.80 and the second was much more expensive at 240 rupees. The cost for the doctor was 1,000 rupees, about $22. As part of getting a root canal, cost 7,000 rupees about $170, I also have to get a crown, at 6500 rupees. Yes the two combined are quite expensive.
The rat in my bedroom has been quite mobile and though he continues to eat the poison that I've fed him, he still shits in all of my bed drawers. I saw him recently climbing up the electrical cord to get into the a/c.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
My parents
During the last two and a half weeks I’ve stayed with my parents in Mission Viejo, California as I’ve taken a five week leave from my beloved India. My parents were married in November 1953 three years before I was born. Some simple multiplication means that they’ve spent almost 21,000 days together or 504,000 hours or 31,000,000 minutes, give or take a little. These are remarkable numbers, especially for the US where on average, about 40-50% of first marriages end in divorce. One might say that my parents are of a different generation but never-the-less through “thick and thin” they have remained companions.
I’ve seen them at their worse, when their arguments are so irrational, that I wonder what has kept them together for this many years. But I’ve also seen them at their best and now that they are almost 82 and 78, their love and caring for one another is something that carries them through life on a daily basis. I still see many of the same things that I did when I was younger, maybe those things never change. Now that I’m older and hadn’t seen them for two years, these things are viewed from a much different perspective.
My mother has not weathered the years well and although she maintains a zest for life her body is not in the best of shape. She might say that a lifetime of hardship has caused this. My mother uses a walker, has diabetes and eats too much junk. She has trouble getting in and out of the car but she does try to exercise in the pool and keeps her mind active through her gardening, book club and bridge interests.
My father, on the other hand, remains slimmer and also involves himself with numerous activities including an annual chalk festival to raise funds for school arts programs, fundraising for Mission Viejo Chabad House, book club and bridge. He also exercises in the pool.
The thing that I notice now is that my father takes more care of my mother. He walks with her, helps more with preparing meals, drives her to certain events and generally is available. My mother does what she can, but seems to be much more dependent on my father.
This companionship lasting more than 57 years seems to be complete. It has weathered the ups and downs that life brings, more so, than many relationships. Even as we’ve all changed, we’ve remained somewhat the same, somewhere lost in time. No matter how far way I might be, when I come back I am their son and I get to see the best and worst of my parents. No matter which world I’m in, I see this incredible companionship lasting more than 57 years, a lifetime. This is one thing that will always be part of me, my heritage.
My parents are truly amazing and I love them more than ever. It is difficult to see one’s once vibrant parents turn to older age. They are slower and their physical appearance is different. But even with all of those changes they remain my parents and this picture of them being together, helping each other will always remain a positive in my life.
I’ve seen them at their worse, when their arguments are so irrational, that I wonder what has kept them together for this many years. But I’ve also seen them at their best and now that they are almost 82 and 78, their love and caring for one another is something that carries them through life on a daily basis. I still see many of the same things that I did when I was younger, maybe those things never change. Now that I’m older and hadn’t seen them for two years, these things are viewed from a much different perspective.
My mother has not weathered the years well and although she maintains a zest for life her body is not in the best of shape. She might say that a lifetime of hardship has caused this. My mother uses a walker, has diabetes and eats too much junk. She has trouble getting in and out of the car but she does try to exercise in the pool and keeps her mind active through her gardening, book club and bridge interests.
My father, on the other hand, remains slimmer and also involves himself with numerous activities including an annual chalk festival to raise funds for school arts programs, fundraising for Mission Viejo Chabad House, book club and bridge. He also exercises in the pool.
The thing that I notice now is that my father takes more care of my mother. He walks with her, helps more with preparing meals, drives her to certain events and generally is available. My mother does what she can, but seems to be much more dependent on my father.
This companionship lasting more than 57 years seems to be complete. It has weathered the ups and downs that life brings, more so, than many relationships. Even as we’ve all changed, we’ve remained somewhat the same, somewhere lost in time. No matter how far way I might be, when I come back I am their son and I get to see the best and worst of my parents. No matter which world I’m in, I see this incredible companionship lasting more than 57 years, a lifetime. This is one thing that will always be part of me, my heritage.
My parents are truly amazing and I love them more than ever. It is difficult to see one’s once vibrant parents turn to older age. They are slower and their physical appearance is different. But even with all of those changes they remain my parents and this picture of them being together, helping each other will always remain a positive in my life.
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