I seem to have missed a major method of transportation here in India: animal. At no point did I ride a palanquin atop an elephant, an arabian horse, or a donkey pulled cart. That being said, below is my analysis of the transportation system.
I rode every class of train at least overnight. For those who are unfamiliar, the trains come in 1st Class, 2nd class, 3rd class, and sleeper. In addition there are two classes for daytrips chair car and AC coach?. The numbered overnight classes all have AC but the sleeper does not. In first class, one has a private room, upholstered seats, and a servant on call 24-hours a day. This is comfortable, but like staying in one's hotel, this drasticly limits interaction. The price of first class is about the same as airfare for the same distance. 2nd class is the best place to expect interaction with Indians in English. While the AC is turned up full blast, each compartment's 6 beds are over 6'6" long and are separated from the hallway with a curtain. 3rd class increases the bunks to 8, drops the AC a bit, and reduces the width of the main bunks to slightly wider than a couch. The aisle bunks are reduced in length to below 6'. 3rd class does have one significant advantage over sleeper, the general public is excluded from the cabins. In sleeper, while the dimensions are the same as 3AC, during the day all sorts of people come in and out of the vehicle. Except unlike 2nd and 3rd, very few venders come in the train. The best part of sleeper is that even with the low price (a 24 hour trip costs about 100Rs) there are still some English speakers for conversation. The day trip AC cars are somewhat like a home theatre with the AC at full blast. Also in these day AC cars, there seems to be the largest variety of food vendors. I had some of the best friend plaintain then. For me, traveling by train would be a toss-up between 2AC and sleeper.
I took six flights within, to and from India, and I have to say that I enjoy the American/International plane luggage rules because I have trouble carrying more than my allowance. Within India flights drop the allowance from 25-35kg to 15kg. Nonetheless, being able to walk up to a counter and by a ticket for the plane departing in an hour for a price 500RS above a 2nd class train ticket is quite nice. I have nothing to complain about on all of my flights, and the international flights had some beautiful waiting rooms with open bars, free massages, or even massage chairs. The only drawback is that for most of these flights, one is going to sit down for several hours, so I prefer to walk the whole time. Also, one notes the price of food increases significantly each time one passes through a security checkpoint. Eventually, it becomes almost economical to eat in a waiting lounge, rather than from one of the venders.
Perhaps my favorite form of transportation were the compact auto, bike, and man-powered rickshaws. These were scaled to the size of the population and are truly stripped down to the bare minimum. I have heard that trafficked areas have deadly accidents when accidents occur, but these professional drivers seem quite adept at avoiding complications and traversing the distance quickly. In addition, many of the authorickshaws have switched over to liquefied/pressurized natural gas. The resulting reduced emissions in addition to their significant fuel efficiency is something any country could do well to emulate. I would love to import an autorickshaw to the US, but the lack of spare parts would be maddening.
Several times in Hyderabad and in Mumbai I rode in taxis. The Indian cabs are the same as in any other part of the world. I have little opinion other than they take more gas than is necessary for most trips, but they are safer than the autorickshaws. My favorites are the mini-taxis which combine a taxi front end with a rearfacing bench seat before the rearmost seat. 12 in such a vehicle is not uncommon.
Aside from traveling on mountain highways, the standard for safety in India must be the bus. While the standard Asian/African/South American/Eastern Europe rule of the largest vehicle controls the road applies, in the cities, more so than everything else, these vehicles slow to a crawl. While I wouldnt recommend riding the outside, decapatations from power lines or being smashed into nearby traffic are two possibilities, a crammed bus is occasionally so crammed that one need not worry about ones balance and could sleep standing up. Unless one has a multihour trip without a seat, I would recommend the buses. As with any crowd, watch your belongings.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Mathura - India 24
From Agra I decided to visit nearby Mathura, the birthplace of Lord Krishna. I crossed 3-8 miles of town to the bus station in under 10 Rs to get there. It was an interesting jog because at times I kept up with the sparse rickshaws while carrying my pack. Here the roads were as wide as an American Highway, yet they were used by very little traffic. These are the new outlets for traffic that get bogged down in the main road, however they lack all the shops and housing that draws people to the main round. Consequently, the main road is still a traffic jam.
My bus traveled right through the center of this jam. City Agra was significantly more modern and looked similar to other Indian cities as compared to the tourist section of Agra. For some time I road the highway from Agra to Mathura. This highway seemed Western in standards: clean with marked lanes drivers followed. As we turned off for Mathura, I noticed a white temple at least as long as a townhouse/rowhouse block, which I thought could be to Krishna.
I got off my bus a bit and found this white temple was to Guru Deo, no relation to Ronnie James. This templ Two things about this surprised me, the temple was white polished stone filled with rope lights of all different colors, and the donations were only accepted from those who had not eaten meat in the last month.
When I finally reached Mathura, I found a big washing pit in the center of town. Six or seven stories from the top of the square was a pond. The water was full of reeds, but was also discolored a shade of red from runoff. I saw women washing their laundry there.
Outside Krishna's dwelling were throngs of pilgrims dressed in orange. Everyone was there for his birthday. I was ashamed to think that a temple as small as the one for Guru Deo could possibly be the dwelling of Lord Krishna. The place was immense. Conveniently outside was an airconditioned enclosed sweets shop that had expensive dainties at American prices. Between the outdoor washing and the indoor food, I am always reminded of the juxtaposition of economics in Indian society.
Before my return to Agra I followed a path down the train tracks to the bus station. I met a begger and offered him my water, which he greatfully drank without touching his mouth to the bottle or spilling a drop. The Indians have perfected this art. At the bus station I have four large vegetable samosas with hot pepper sauce for 20 Rs. Made by hand and fried by the vendor on the pan infront of me, these were delicious.
Back in Agra, my cheap hotel had a laundry service. I payed when I received my laundry but one piece remained dirty and only appeared pressed. When I discovered this and asked for my 3Rs in return, the guy at the front desk hemmed and hawed. The problem with losing small amounts of money is that over the course of a trip they build up. For me, it is the principal of the idea that I should never pay for work I didn't receive. As my time wasn't that crucial (how can it be with train timings up to a day off?) we had a nice 5 minute conversation in order for me to get any change. I recognize that the money ment more to him than it did to me, but charity is to be freely given, not used to excuse shoddy labor.
My bus traveled right through the center of this jam. City Agra was significantly more modern and looked similar to other Indian cities as compared to the tourist section of Agra. For some time I road the highway from Agra to Mathura. This highway seemed Western in standards: clean with marked lanes drivers followed. As we turned off for Mathura, I noticed a white temple at least as long as a townhouse/rowhouse block, which I thought could be to Krishna.
I got off my bus a bit and found this white temple was to Guru Deo, no relation to Ronnie James. This templ Two things about this surprised me, the temple was white polished stone filled with rope lights of all different colors, and the donations were only accepted from those who had not eaten meat in the last month.
When I finally reached Mathura, I found a big washing pit in the center of town. Six or seven stories from the top of the square was a pond. The water was full of reeds, but was also discolored a shade of red from runoff. I saw women washing their laundry there.
Outside Krishna's dwelling were throngs of pilgrims dressed in orange. Everyone was there for his birthday. I was ashamed to think that a temple as small as the one for Guru Deo could possibly be the dwelling of Lord Krishna. The place was immense. Conveniently outside was an airconditioned enclosed sweets shop that had expensive dainties at American prices. Between the outdoor washing and the indoor food, I am always reminded of the juxtaposition of economics in Indian society.
Before my return to Agra I followed a path down the train tracks to the bus station. I met a begger and offered him my water, which he greatfully drank without touching his mouth to the bottle or spilling a drop. The Indians have perfected this art. At the bus station I have four large vegetable samosas with hot pepper sauce for 20 Rs. Made by hand and fried by the vendor on the pan infront of me, these were delicious.
Back in Agra, my cheap hotel had a laundry service. I payed when I received my laundry but one piece remained dirty and only appeared pressed. When I discovered this and asked for my 3Rs in return, the guy at the front desk hemmed and hawed. The problem with losing small amounts of money is that over the course of a trip they build up. For me, it is the principal of the idea that I should never pay for work I didn't receive. As my time wasn't that crucial (how can it be with train timings up to a day off?) we had a nice 5 minute conversation in order for me to get any change. I recognize that the money ment more to him than it did to me, but charity is to be freely given, not used to excuse shoddy labor.
Monday, August 14, 2006
Agra ... Cheap! - India 23
I took a train to Agra Fort. Just about everybody got off at the main Agra train station, but I decided to wait, figuring that the Agra Fort station might be closer to the Red Fort. Granted the wait on the train was an extra half hour, but I guessed I would be bettter off for having less solicitors. When I got off the train, I found out this was for naught. There were still a crowd of auto and rickshaw drivers trying to get me to ride. Interestingly enough, the train station opened onto the rear of the fort. This included a large sign map, the first I had seen in India! As I set out by foot, I was offered directions from rickshaw-wallahs. I even was joined by a few friendly boys who had about as much English skills as I did. It seemed that the fort's wooded area between the crumbling exterior wall and the 6 story high main wall was their playground.
Walking around to the main entrance of the Red Fort I was surprised the backpack check and water were free. Considering at the other UNESCO site I had just been to, it cost a nickel to leave your shoes under guard. There were active archaelogical and historical sections in the process of restoration. Some it was fenced off, but other parts I was just able to wander into and see the workers standing on lashed bamboo scaffolding with a leg on the wall to help chimney the gap. A couple of kids (prolly theirs) were sitting in playing in the nearby shade.
A third section, the majority of the fort, was walled off because it was still military. I guess when a large section of area is walled off, there is little reason to convert it from original use. My guess is that the base was too big an area for the city to politically muscle out and redevelop into a housing/industrial/commercial area.
From the top of the red fort I saw the traditional UNESCO view of the Taj Mahal. That view is surrounded by further buildings situated back from the river. There were several swimmers floating down the river past the Red Fort and the Taj Mahal. It seemed like a good pastime for the hot weather. Damn the pollution.
From the Red Fort I decided to walk to the Taj. As per normal, the auto drivers were incredulous. I definitely learned that as a fool of European the best way to get a cheap fair anywhere is to start walking. After all, by foot gets one across town in under 10Rs. [Graphic with Want to travel across town for under 10 Rs? Start Walking!] The only problem is with directions. Many maps lack the necessary signals or landmarks and since most roads lack signs, this leaves other drivers as a source of directions. One simply never knows if a driver looking for a fare will give you the right directions. I have gotten bad ones several times. During this trip I start walking through a park and an Indian who has hired a rickshaw for his family admired the comfort unlike the method employed by me, "the fool of a European." He had hired a driver for a three-quarter mile shaded park lane.
The Taj is more than the view. It is place thick with monkeys (which stole the water bottle from a guy with whom I was talking), parrots (who are mostly dumb), and dragon flies (which dodge and dart above the fountains). In addition, this tomb is not in isolation, but has museums within the gates and is surrounded by the old city.
In the evening I wandered throughout the town. The tourist area teemed with internet cafes, restaurants, and gift shops with wares from the whole of India. The local part of town had walkways scarely wide enough for me to pass another along with an open sewer drain. I tried to buy curd, but the dairy seller wanted to sell it for a price 10x what I had seen elsewhere in town. When I rejected his price and walked away, a few teenagers started walking with me. They escorted a bit through town, but were as incredulous as the auto drivers when I didn't know the name of my hotel.
My wanderings took me another hour through town in order to find my hotel home. I did find some excellent milk: one ladle of cream plus three of milk, all hot, mixed with sugar into a small terra cotta pot. Just like "Guys and Dolls", this is an excellent way to get kids to drink their milk.
At the Taj I decided to live it up backpacker style and grabbed a cheap room next to the Western gate; I still don't know the name of the hotel. This provided for a great view from the rooftop cafe of the Taj. The next morning I had breakfast with one Eric Levi, a Portlander from my neighborhood of Sellwood traveling through India. The red star on his chest reminded of one person and his demeaner of another, Joe Stalin and Eric Joseph Stofferahn [Stalin] respectively. Eric Levi's birght red star suggested his following of communism, although I believe him socialist from our conversation. In addition, he recognized that the Safeway on SE Powell and 39th in Portland has a nice big picture of Joseph Stalin in the window. Eric Levi's relaxed personality, and his detailed recollection of animal fueled insanity in Varanasi reminded me of the animal shelter Stofferahn's mother ran.
I enjoyed Agra, in addition to all of this, I was back in the land of 24 hour internet.
Walking around to the main entrance of the Red Fort I was surprised the backpack check and water were free. Considering at the other UNESCO site I had just been to, it cost a nickel to leave your shoes under guard. There were active archaelogical and historical sections in the process of restoration. Some it was fenced off, but other parts I was just able to wander into and see the workers standing on lashed bamboo scaffolding with a leg on the wall to help chimney the gap. A couple of kids (prolly theirs) were sitting in playing in the nearby shade.
A third section, the majority of the fort, was walled off because it was still military. I guess when a large section of area is walled off, there is little reason to convert it from original use. My guess is that the base was too big an area for the city to politically muscle out and redevelop into a housing/industrial/commercial area.
From the top of the red fort I saw the traditional UNESCO view of the Taj Mahal. That view is surrounded by further buildings situated back from the river. There were several swimmers floating down the river past the Red Fort and the Taj Mahal. It seemed like a good pastime for the hot weather. Damn the pollution.
From the Red Fort I decided to walk to the Taj. As per normal, the auto drivers were incredulous. I definitely learned that as a fool of European the best way to get a cheap fair anywhere is to start walking. After all, by foot gets one across town in under 10Rs. [Graphic with Want to travel across town for under 10 Rs? Start Walking!] The only problem is with directions. Many maps lack the necessary signals or landmarks and since most roads lack signs, this leaves other drivers as a source of directions. One simply never knows if a driver looking for a fare will give you the right directions. I have gotten bad ones several times. During this trip I start walking through a park and an Indian who has hired a rickshaw for his family admired the comfort unlike the method employed by me, "the fool of a European." He had hired a driver for a three-quarter mile shaded park lane.
The Taj is more than the view. It is place thick with monkeys (which stole the water bottle from a guy with whom I was talking), parrots (who are mostly dumb), and dragon flies (which dodge and dart above the fountains). In addition, this tomb is not in isolation, but has museums within the gates and is surrounded by the old city.
In the evening I wandered throughout the town. The tourist area teemed with internet cafes, restaurants, and gift shops with wares from the whole of India. The local part of town had walkways scarely wide enough for me to pass another along with an open sewer drain. I tried to buy curd, but the dairy seller wanted to sell it for a price 10x what I had seen elsewhere in town. When I rejected his price and walked away, a few teenagers started walking with me. They escorted a bit through town, but were as incredulous as the auto drivers when I didn't know the name of my hotel.
My wanderings took me another hour through town in order to find my hotel home. I did find some excellent milk: one ladle of cream plus three of milk, all hot, mixed with sugar into a small terra cotta pot. Just like "Guys and Dolls", this is an excellent way to get kids to drink their milk.
At the Taj I decided to live it up backpacker style and grabbed a cheap room next to the Western gate; I still don't know the name of the hotel. This provided for a great view from the rooftop cafe of the Taj. The next morning I had breakfast with one Eric Levi, a Portlander from my neighborhood of Sellwood traveling through India. The red star on his chest reminded of one person and his demeaner of another, Joe Stalin and Eric Joseph Stofferahn [Stalin] respectively. Eric Levi's birght red star suggested his following of communism, although I believe him socialist from our conversation. In addition, he recognized that the Safeway on SE Powell and 39th in Portland has a nice big picture of Joseph Stalin in the window. Eric Levi's relaxed personality, and his detailed recollection of animal fueled insanity in Varanasi reminded me of the animal shelter Stofferahn's mother ran.
I enjoyed Agra, in addition to all of this, I was back in the land of 24 hour internet.
Sunday, August 13, 2006
Bodh Gaya & Delhi - India 22
Bodh Gaya is a little village surviving entirely on tourist trade.
Delhi is a giant city currently under terrorist alert from the American government.
Despite their differences, they can share a post.
The river alongside Bodh Gaya is a beautiful sandy river. I expect an adventure travel group to offer return trips back to the Gaya railway station based on canoeing/kayaking/floating down river.
Delhi is dirty, and when it rains, Delhi is muddy. In Delhi the streets are paved, but several of the bazaars and neighborhoods cover the roads with a nice thick layer of dirt.
Bodh Gaya has a UNESCO World Heritage site a giant buddhist temple, many stupas, and a descendent of the original bodhi tree, under which Buddha gained enlightenment. The only search at the gate is where they ask you to remove your shoes and pay camera fees.
Delhi has a fresh clean metro railway where you are scanned, frisked, and your bags are thoroughly searched. This is even standard when there isn't a terrorist alert.
There are probably 8 or 10 Buddhist temples in Bodh Gaya, each with a different flavor of decoration. The Japanese Temple was as Spartan as their traditional homes and had little more than a statue of a Buddha. The Red China and White China temples both followed the same tradition: overwhelm in numbers. The Red China temple had dragon after dragon along with 3 buddhas and beautiful murals. The White China temple had 100's of 4-inch high buddhas lining the walls (add one for just 100Rs!) along with the 3 buddhas. Incidentally, the Japanese also donated an 80ft tall statue, which appears to be falling on the viewer.
I have yet to find a way to contrast Delhi. Suggestions are welcome.
Delhi did have an amazing number of kites for sale. As I walked through Chondni Chowk there must have been 100 stalls selling various kites. With all the power lines, one would have to be at a park or in a river to fly them.
I head to Agra, in observance of possible terror.
Delhi is a giant city currently under terrorist alert from the American government.
Despite their differences, they can share a post.
The river alongside Bodh Gaya is a beautiful sandy river. I expect an adventure travel group to offer return trips back to the Gaya railway station based on canoeing/kayaking/floating down river.
Delhi is dirty, and when it rains, Delhi is muddy. In Delhi the streets are paved, but several of the bazaars and neighborhoods cover the roads with a nice thick layer of dirt.
Bodh Gaya has a UNESCO World Heritage site a giant buddhist temple, many stupas, and a descendent of the original bodhi tree, under which Buddha gained enlightenment. The only search at the gate is where they ask you to remove your shoes and pay camera fees.
Delhi has a fresh clean metro railway where you are scanned, frisked, and your bags are thoroughly searched. This is even standard when there isn't a terrorist alert.
There are probably 8 or 10 Buddhist temples in Bodh Gaya, each with a different flavor of decoration. The Japanese Temple was as Spartan as their traditional homes and had little more than a statue of a Buddha. The Red China and White China temples both followed the same tradition: overwhelm in numbers. The Red China temple had dragon after dragon along with 3 buddhas and beautiful murals. The White China temple had 100's of 4-inch high buddhas lining the walls (add one for just 100Rs!) along with the 3 buddhas. Incidentally, the Japanese also donated an 80ft tall statue, which appears to be falling on the viewer.
I have yet to find a way to contrast Delhi. Suggestions are welcome.
Delhi did have an amazing number of kites for sale. As I walked through Chondni Chowk there must have been 100 stalls selling various kites. With all the power lines, one would have to be at a park or in a river to fly them.
I head to Agra, in observance of possible terror.
Friday, August 11, 2006
Calcutta, West Bengal - India 21
I am proud of myself today. I feel really good at my canny traveler abilities and my fraternity boy abilities. I spent the afternoon saving $36 dollars on shipping, and the evening getting a 16 year old Christian boy drunk- Quite entertaining. Not only that, following a large meal, I pulled my rickshaw-wallah to the train station.
Shipping fiasco: in a foreign country, always start with the largest post office in the city. I happened to be walking and arrived at a large post office. This may have neen a regional post office for the city, and it was used by businessmen. Notably, the PO was not the central post office in the international business district.
English was a problem. Two people in the office spoke English: the central overseer and one young guy, not involved with shipping. They didn't get the concept of book post, which India has, but they were willing to help me ship the books rather than send them air-mail. Even with filling out customs forms in triplicate, this seemed good enough for me.
I got the books wrapped in white cloth by a tailor across the street, and came back to post the item. Unfortunately, they also weren't able to help me ship something as a traveler, lacking an address in India. At this point, I realized I was talking to the wrong people.
One trip to the central post office later, I found that my 10kg of books had to be split into two 5kg packages, which then qualified for "Foreign Registered Book Post". For the address on my books, they suggested to use the post office's information and then list my hotel. There were no forms, and there was no hassle.
----
While I was waiting for the books to be repackaged, this boy, Tom, came calling. We talked about what there was to see in the city, and he suggested a few places. I asked him if he were free to show me around, and he created an elaborate itinerary. Unfortunately, we only had time for 2 places:
A conglomerate park he had never been in was the first place. For 10Rs, I bought us both admission and he got to marvel at the kids of dates, and the families maybe even kissing! We also went on bumper cars, which he had never seen or tried before. The three connected parks had a good view of the riverfront, and Tom's reaction, fix my appearance so that we could pickup women, amused me, especially because the 16year-old wasn't interested in girls. As we left the park he suggested a whorehouse for our itinerary.
The second place was a bar, which Tom said was cheap and didn't charge the government required taxes. Tom had been there once before for a friend's birthday. The bar served boiled chickpeas and julienned ginger to go with the malt liquor (no beer available). I shared a 600ml bottle with Tom, and ordered a second on his intimation. After the 2nd bottle came, he said he wouldn't have any more and shortly thereafter he started to act drunk. When I was halfway finished with the second bottle and was ready to leave, he finished the bottle, just to make sure we weren't wasting good "beer".
As soon as we left the bar, he started going on about how his father would beat him and how he needed to start smoking. Score - Western Capitalist Corruption:1 Indian Puritanism:0
----
I ate dinner at a recommended restaurant, in which 26/30 patrons were Westerners. Nonetheless, the food was good, seemingly clean (they offered salad!), and not too expensive. After a college dining-hall buffet sized dinner, I grabbed my bags and left for the rail station.
Within seconds a rickshaw driver accosted me and told me to name my price. I told him 40Rs, nearly twice what the price should be, but then added the proviso: I pull. He laughed and said no. Half a block later, I was pulling the rickshaw, my luggage and Modul, the rickshaw-wallah. For the first 200m, at every obstacle he suggested that he pull.
I insisted that I pull and ran weaving through the market pulling the rickshaw driver. People pointed, laughed, shouted encouragement, and most importantly got out of my way. Stationary carts didn't do as well and I got stuck and had to back up 3times. Nonetheless, winding my way through the city, running and pulling a cart wasn't too hard work, but I think a bike-rickshaw would have been easier.
After I covered 2/3rds of the distance, I had dinner again, at which point I allowed the driver to pull me. This was good because we entered into some rather jammed truck/bus/animal traffic I don't think I would have navigated without jamming the wheels against something. At the station I gave my driver 100Rs (obviously making his day), got his name and told him he made my day. If I go back to Calcutta, I will have to take up rickshaw-wallah pulling for exercise.
Shipping fiasco: in a foreign country, always start with the largest post office in the city. I happened to be walking and arrived at a large post office. This may have neen a regional post office for the city, and it was used by businessmen. Notably, the PO was not the central post office in the international business district.
English was a problem. Two people in the office spoke English: the central overseer and one young guy, not involved with shipping. They didn't get the concept of book post, which India has, but they were willing to help me ship the books rather than send them air-mail. Even with filling out customs forms in triplicate, this seemed good enough for me.
I got the books wrapped in white cloth by a tailor across the street, and came back to post the item. Unfortunately, they also weren't able to help me ship something as a traveler, lacking an address in India. At this point, I realized I was talking to the wrong people.
One trip to the central post office later, I found that my 10kg of books had to be split into two 5kg packages, which then qualified for "Foreign Registered Book Post". For the address on my books, they suggested to use the post office's information and then list my hotel. There were no forms, and there was no hassle.
----
While I was waiting for the books to be repackaged, this boy, Tom, came calling. We talked about what there was to see in the city, and he suggested a few places. I asked him if he were free to show me around, and he created an elaborate itinerary. Unfortunately, we only had time for 2 places:
A conglomerate park he had never been in was the first place. For 10Rs, I bought us both admission and he got to marvel at the kids of dates, and the families maybe even kissing! We also went on bumper cars, which he had never seen or tried before. The three connected parks had a good view of the riverfront, and Tom's reaction, fix my appearance so that we could pickup women, amused me, especially because the 16year-old wasn't interested in girls. As we left the park he suggested a whorehouse for our itinerary.
The second place was a bar, which Tom said was cheap and didn't charge the government required taxes. Tom had been there once before for a friend's birthday. The bar served boiled chickpeas and julienned ginger to go with the malt liquor (no beer available). I shared a 600ml bottle with Tom, and ordered a second on his intimation. After the 2nd bottle came, he said he wouldn't have any more and shortly thereafter he started to act drunk. When I was halfway finished with the second bottle and was ready to leave, he finished the bottle, just to make sure we weren't wasting good "beer".
As soon as we left the bar, he started going on about how his father would beat him and how he needed to start smoking. Score - Western Capitalist Corruption:1 Indian Puritanism:0
----
I ate dinner at a recommended restaurant, in which 26/30 patrons were Westerners. Nonetheless, the food was good, seemingly clean (they offered salad!), and not too expensive. After a college dining-hall buffet sized dinner, I grabbed my bags and left for the rail station.
Within seconds a rickshaw driver accosted me and told me to name my price. I told him 40Rs, nearly twice what the price should be, but then added the proviso: I pull. He laughed and said no. Half a block later, I was pulling the rickshaw, my luggage and Modul, the rickshaw-wallah. For the first 200m, at every obstacle he suggested that he pull.
I insisted that I pull and ran weaving through the market pulling the rickshaw driver. People pointed, laughed, shouted encouragement, and most importantly got out of my way. Stationary carts didn't do as well and I got stuck and had to back up 3times. Nonetheless, winding my way through the city, running and pulling a cart wasn't too hard work, but I think a bike-rickshaw would have been easier.
After I covered 2/3rds of the distance, I had dinner again, at which point I allowed the driver to pull me. This was good because we entered into some rather jammed truck/bus/animal traffic I don't think I would have navigated without jamming the wheels against something. At the station I gave my driver 100Rs (obviously making his day), got his name and told him he made my day. If I go back to Calcutta, I will have to take up rickshaw-wallah pulling for exercise.
Monday, July 31, 2006
Farewell Parties - India 20
Two of my good friends have left this weekend. In their honor, we setup a rather elaborate party. This was rather funny, because the price of having a party catered would be relatively inexpensive, but we wanted to hold this in a the privacy of the dorm common areas.
For Phillip the German, we attempted a complex menu for a large turn out. Cooking together is one of my favorite things to do. In the dorms, the challenge was finding enough pots and plates. Our dinner came together with: Sausages, cooked carrot cabbage bell pepper salad, pasta, potatoes, beer, Caipiroshka's (vodka Caipirinha), and juice.
We had music, the wicker furniture of 3 veranda areas, more music, and partying until 3am. The curious thing was that the party followed conservative cultural lines, almost complete separation of the sexes. I felt like I was at a middle school dance.
Two days later, Amu had a smaller get-together. After the sumptuous endeavor of the previous party, we had leftovers in a single pot: carrots, potatoes, and onions with a bit of cheese and juice. A tidy meal for someone leaving with so much; Amu shipped a bed-sized box home.
For Phillip the German, we attempted a complex menu for a large turn out. Cooking together is one of my favorite things to do. In the dorms, the challenge was finding enough pots and plates. Our dinner came together with: Sausages, cooked carrot cabbage bell pepper salad, pasta, potatoes, beer, Caipiroshka's (vodka Caipirinha), and juice.
We had music, the wicker furniture of 3 veranda areas, more music, and partying until 3am. The curious thing was that the party followed conservative cultural lines, almost complete separation of the sexes. I felt like I was at a middle school dance.
Two days later, Amu had a smaller get-together. After the sumptuous endeavor of the previous party, we had leftovers in a single pot: carrots, potatoes, and onions with a bit of cheese and juice. A tidy meal for someone leaving with so much; Amu shipped a bed-sized box home.
Teaching English Abroad - India 19
It seems like a good way to travel, meet the locals, and throw something on the resume would be teach English in a foreign country. In addition, if one were teaching in a city, one could make and create contacts with influential economic types. My brother did something like this in Vietnam.
I met 4 teachers in the KFC the other day. I may have already mentioned that this is where everyone goes to meet Westerners. All of the 4 teachers were girls from the British Isles and were on their tail end of teaching in southern Andhra. They had gotten quite used to the subcontinent and looked more native than JP, our Frenchman-gone-local at ICRISAT.
When I was in Kerala I encountered 3 more teachers newly from England enjoying a day at the beach. I had heard rumors of British girls showing too much skin, and while I understand that they were on the way to the beach, sphaghetti straps and short shorts were out of the question in that part of India. It is nice to be comfortable ignoring the local cultural standards in order to follow ones own. I don't think this helps one teach though.
One of my friends recently came back from teaching in Japan. Another friend, JP, went to visit an acquaintance working in Japan. If nothing else, this seems to be one of the harder places to teach English. While Japanese give wide respect, the pay is low and the cultural differences are great. I would love to spend an extended time there, but I think teaching English may be the wrong track. Perhaps teaching in a more urban environment would work best.
I hear the situation for teachers is similar in much of Africa.
I met 4 teachers in the KFC the other day. I may have already mentioned that this is where everyone goes to meet Westerners. All of the 4 teachers were girls from the British Isles and were on their tail end of teaching in southern Andhra. They had gotten quite used to the subcontinent and looked more native than JP, our Frenchman-gone-local at ICRISAT.
When I was in Kerala I encountered 3 more teachers newly from England enjoying a day at the beach. I had heard rumors of British girls showing too much skin, and while I understand that they were on the way to the beach, sphaghetti straps and short shorts were out of the question in that part of India. It is nice to be comfortable ignoring the local cultural standards in order to follow ones own. I don't think this helps one teach though.
One of my friends recently came back from teaching in Japan. Another friend, JP, went to visit an acquaintance working in Japan. If nothing else, this seems to be one of the harder places to teach English. While Japanese give wide respect, the pay is low and the cultural differences are great. I would love to spend an extended time there, but I think teaching English may be the wrong track. Perhaps teaching in a more urban environment would work best.
I hear the situation for teachers is similar in much of Africa.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Kerala - India 18
Calicut was my first stop in Kerala. The city was much like any city, except it had a beach area for people in the evening. I ate some fish, parboiled rice, and a red banana almost as big as my head and took a stroll around town.
On a hill near an observatory I found an allyway with a drainage ditch running down it. It was picturesque and lightly dusted with brilliant green most. On the wall of this alleyway was one of the smallest advertisements I had seen: a bumper sticker size metal placard reading "Sign World ->". This seems like a well thought-out method of advertising for their business.
Around the corner from the hole-in-the-wall sign shop I found a canal running between light industry and poor housing. I followed the canal past 3 football (soccer) games, at each I was invited to play, several thatch huts, each for a family although about the size of a bedroom, and a series of lumber mills, each with a small logjam of waiting material slowly collescing in the canal.
Kerala, a former Portuguese colony, is a soccer state. While cricket is still popular, the main sport is football. Even little kids stay up late with their parents to watch the World Cup. Like most of India, parts are also very poor: maybe one of three footballs was an adidas style black and white hexagon ball. The others were a white volleyball styled Gaelic football and a brown ball harkening back from before 1970.
I continued leisurely down the canal, intending to reach the ocean, until I came across a group of puppies lying on the bank. As I came near, they all went trotting off. A few steps past their resting place, the path was fringed with tall grass. Just as I came to the fringe a copper colored snake as thick as my fist slithered off. At this point I decided to backtrack and take a log and plank footbridge (one log wide) across the canal to the road.
Cochin is a tourist town. While the traditional island still has fishing industry, the main focus of the area seems to be the tourist trade. Consequently, fruit and everything else one can negotiate for are quite expensive. I stopped by the Jewish cemetary, the old, still in use, Synagogue, and a nice cathedral. Outside each, particularly in Jewtown, were shops with all sorts of products from other parts of India for sale. One shop sold Jewish religious items, and had the temerity to price them higher than in the U.S. Even if I had bargained, the quality wasn't worth the price.
In Cochin and its sister city, Ernakulum, there are a fair number of luxury/middle class hotels for $20-80. I stopped in a couple to see if they could recommend an ayurvedic massage. Again, I ran into the problem of being in a tourist town. The sticker shock of American prices, even from possible medical specialists was just too much. I relaxed with a Bollywood movie instead.
I relaxed into a 9pm showing, which, surprisingly, was full of kids. Apparently the 6pm showing runs against the normal eating time of families and is filled with teenagers. By 9pm parents can have everyone fed and bring the little ones to the theater. I had a lovely talk explaining my day to a young one who knew just enough English.
When I came back to my Rs70/night hotel I was locked out and the proprietor was asleep in a bednet on the couch. I had to bang on the wall for 10min to wake him up and let me in. I love übercheap hotels (In this one, my room was not entirely enclosed with walls but had wire mesh for the upper portion).
On the way to the trainstation I stopped at a cool bar. About every 4th or 5th shop here had fruit, an ice chest, and a juice machine. For Rs12-15 I could get a glass of fresh orange, pineapple, grape or other juice. These shops also sold snacks and candies. The rent must be cheap, because the competition was extremely numerous.
On a hill near an observatory I found an allyway with a drainage ditch running down it. It was picturesque and lightly dusted with brilliant green most. On the wall of this alleyway was one of the smallest advertisements I had seen: a bumper sticker size metal placard reading "Sign World ->". This seems like a well thought-out method of advertising for their business.
Around the corner from the hole-in-the-wall sign shop I found a canal running between light industry and poor housing. I followed the canal past 3 football (soccer) games, at each I was invited to play, several thatch huts, each for a family although about the size of a bedroom, and a series of lumber mills, each with a small logjam of waiting material slowly collescing in the canal.
Kerala, a former Portuguese colony, is a soccer state. While cricket is still popular, the main sport is football. Even little kids stay up late with their parents to watch the World Cup. Like most of India, parts are also very poor: maybe one of three footballs was an adidas style black and white hexagon ball. The others were a white volleyball styled Gaelic football and a brown ball harkening back from before 1970.
I continued leisurely down the canal, intending to reach the ocean, until I came across a group of puppies lying on the bank. As I came near, they all went trotting off. A few steps past their resting place, the path was fringed with tall grass. Just as I came to the fringe a copper colored snake as thick as my fist slithered off. At this point I decided to backtrack and take a log and plank footbridge (one log wide) across the canal to the road.
Cochin is a tourist town. While the traditional island still has fishing industry, the main focus of the area seems to be the tourist trade. Consequently, fruit and everything else one can negotiate for are quite expensive. I stopped by the Jewish cemetary, the old, still in use, Synagogue, and a nice cathedral. Outside each, particularly in Jewtown, were shops with all sorts of products from other parts of India for sale. One shop sold Jewish religious items, and had the temerity to price them higher than in the U.S. Even if I had bargained, the quality wasn't worth the price.
In Cochin and its sister city, Ernakulum, there are a fair number of luxury/middle class hotels for $20-80. I stopped in a couple to see if they could recommend an ayurvedic massage. Again, I ran into the problem of being in a tourist town. The sticker shock of American prices, even from possible medical specialists was just too much. I relaxed with a Bollywood movie instead.
I relaxed into a 9pm showing, which, surprisingly, was full of kids. Apparently the 6pm showing runs against the normal eating time of families and is filled with teenagers. By 9pm parents can have everyone fed and bring the little ones to the theater. I had a lovely talk explaining my day to a young one who knew just enough English.
When I came back to my Rs70/night hotel I was locked out and the proprietor was asleep in a bednet on the couch. I had to bang on the wall for 10min to wake him up and let me in. I love übercheap hotels (In this one, my room was not entirely enclosed with walls but had wire mesh for the upper portion).
On the way to the trainstation I stopped at a cool bar. About every 4th or 5th shop here had fruit, an ice chest, and a juice machine. For Rs12-15 I could get a glass of fresh orange, pineapple, grape or other juice. These shops also sold snacks and candies. The rent must be cheap, because the competition was extremely numerous.
Goa 2 - India 17
In South Anjuna I lunched at the first restaurant on the south end of the beach, an open thatch covered 50 person beach shack named Curly's. Curly's piped in Goan trance music, cooked a wide variety of food and drinks, and generally catered to the European crowd at a dazzling 30 ft from surf.
During the season, this part of the beach is covered with European tourists, gange smoking hippies, and ill-mannered drugged up Israelis, decompressing from their military service. Consequently, the Israelis are not know for their polite manners.
A quick joke: An American, Russian, Chinese and Israeli are all talking. An Indian approaches and asks them "Excuse me, can you explain to me about democracy, communism and free markets?" The American says, "What's 'communism'?" The Russian says, "What's a 'free market'?" The Chinese says, "What's 'democracy'?" The Israeli says, "What's 'excuse me'?"
As I sat there, I watched 4 smaller dogs playing on the beach and two toddlers running around. One of them was watched over by a tie-dyed, bearded, Italian looking fellow, who turned out to be a Californian Jewish writer named Greg. Greg had married a West Bengalese lady 5 years ago and their daughter Dunya had grown up surrounded by party-going hippies.
After lunch, Greg invited me over to his house and we sat on his porch talking about India, America, and his Henry Miller (Re:Tropic of Cancer) inspired book. Greg, although regretfully lacking toiled paper, was quite content with his spacious yard and house. Interestingly, while the family had two scootters, there was no car access to his house, the front entry was pinched between the stone retaining walls of two other houses. In addition, Greg had 9,000L of tanks and a pump hooked into the water line to capture supply during the few hours of service on alternating days.
Greg had internet access through two different networks, each over a cell phone connected to his computer. Because of network outages, he and his wife have different service plans, so one of them can always get through.
That evening I dined in Calangute at that Mecca of convenience, the 24 hour restaurant. While burgers and fries were offered, more importantly this place also served the full variety, and then some, of Indian food. I had a Mexican Dosa, an Indian, thin, egg pancake with Mexican topping, cheese and onions. In addition, the 24-hour joint was also a bar, had an Indian playing electric guitar with a beat-box for entertainment (I was dedicated California Dreamin'), and was waited on by Indians from the opposite side of the country.
A bit south of there off the beach lies a rotting hulk of a ship, the River Princess. While significantly larger than the African Queen, this ship is mired even more heavily, as it ran aground on a sand bar just where the waves start to break toward the beach. What so big a ship was doing so close to a beach, I will never know. However, now this death trap creates strange undertows and swirling eddies, which have killed several swimmers. The reason the ship hasn't moved is the shipping company and the government are fighting over who is to blame and should move the ship. Considering the hazardous nature of the boat, I am amazed the government hasn't moved it and liquidated the assets of all those involved with the company in order to pay.
Incidentally, the off season in this beach paradise meant that I was exposed to about 20 min of rain during the day. While Greg had told me they had earlier had 3 days of continuous rain, 20 minutes is a small price to pay for a lovely beach all to oneself. Between the cost of living and the beauty of the place, I am not surprised that Greg raises his daughter and works as a writer in Goa.
During the season, this part of the beach is covered with European tourists, gange smoking hippies, and ill-mannered drugged up Israelis, decompressing from their military service. Consequently, the Israelis are not know for their polite manners.
A quick joke: An American, Russian, Chinese and Israeli are all talking. An Indian approaches and asks them "Excuse me, can you explain to me about democracy, communism and free markets?" The American says, "What's 'communism'?" The Russian says, "What's a 'free market'?" The Chinese says, "What's 'democracy'?" The Israeli says, "What's 'excuse me'?"
As I sat there, I watched 4 smaller dogs playing on the beach and two toddlers running around. One of them was watched over by a tie-dyed, bearded, Italian looking fellow, who turned out to be a Californian Jewish writer named Greg. Greg had married a West Bengalese lady 5 years ago and their daughter Dunya had grown up surrounded by party-going hippies.
After lunch, Greg invited me over to his house and we sat on his porch talking about India, America, and his Henry Miller (Re:Tropic of Cancer) inspired book. Greg, although regretfully lacking toiled paper, was quite content with his spacious yard and house. Interestingly, while the family had two scootters, there was no car access to his house, the front entry was pinched between the stone retaining walls of two other houses. In addition, Greg had 9,000L of tanks and a pump hooked into the water line to capture supply during the few hours of service on alternating days.
Greg had internet access through two different networks, each over a cell phone connected to his computer. Because of network outages, he and his wife have different service plans, so one of them can always get through.
That evening I dined in Calangute at that Mecca of convenience, the 24 hour restaurant. While burgers and fries were offered, more importantly this place also served the full variety, and then some, of Indian food. I had a Mexican Dosa, an Indian, thin, egg pancake with Mexican topping, cheese and onions. In addition, the 24-hour joint was also a bar, had an Indian playing electric guitar with a beat-box for entertainment (I was dedicated California Dreamin'), and was waited on by Indians from the opposite side of the country.
A bit south of there off the beach lies a rotting hulk of a ship, the River Princess. While significantly larger than the African Queen, this ship is mired even more heavily, as it ran aground on a sand bar just where the waves start to break toward the beach. What so big a ship was doing so close to a beach, I will never know. However, now this death trap creates strange undertows and swirling eddies, which have killed several swimmers. The reason the ship hasn't moved is the shipping company and the government are fighting over who is to blame and should move the ship. Considering the hazardous nature of the boat, I am amazed the government hasn't moved it and liquidated the assets of all those involved with the company in order to pay.
Incidentally, the off season in this beach paradise meant that I was exposed to about 20 min of rain during the day. While Greg had told me they had earlier had 3 days of continuous rain, 20 minutes is a small price to pay for a lovely beach all to oneself. Between the cost of living and the beauty of the place, I am not surprised that Greg raises his daughter and works as a writer in Goa.
Goa - India 16
I rather enjoyed my late July vacation to Goa and Kerala. The itinerary was rather vague: Fly into Goa airport Tuesday and catch a return train on Monday, from 1000km south in Cochin, Kerala. This itinerary was acceptable, but would have benefited from a bit more intermediate organization.
The Goan airport, a two baggage train operation, would have been comfortable in rural Virginia. The minor exceptions were armed military standing on the side of the runway, the oversized military airplane hangers, and what appeared to be fighter jets and C-130s with their noses covered in cotton cloth. Might this be the Indian equivalent to car solar shades, keeping the cockpit shaded and cool?
A prepayed taxi, costing $11 for 15 miles brought me to the old city of Panjim. This tourist stop brought me in contact with non-researcher Westerners for the first time in days. I had gotten into the habit in Hyderabad of waving to Westerners, as I so rarely saw any. Now, every 20th person being a tourist made me rethink my modus operandi.
Fontainhas is tiny. About three or four city blocks cover the whole area. Here every 4th shop sells knickknacks. Presiding over the town at the top of a hill is a whitewashed church. All the trimming is in blue. The outdoor stairs approaching are nice and even included a single chillum/marijuana vender/beggar.
After wandering a bit about town, I found a tiffins (snacks) restaurant that had reasonable prices. While enjoying my freshly juiced pomegranates another traveler came in. I motioned for this Asian girl to join my table, and was surprised to find the Korean girl could barely speak English. In fact, her travelers English was about equivalent to my Spanish- able to ask for the toilet, a room, and a meal but explaining complex ideas was quite difficult.
After 30 minutes of talking over a jelly sandwich, we determined she came on a aid mission similar to Habitat for Humanity and was now taking 2 weeks to see a bit of India. I thought it rather bully of her to both help and travel in a nation where she could barely communicate. I was also thankful for her perspective, because my lack of Hindi didn't place me that far off from her.
---quick interlude---
Unfortunately, work continued to rear its ugly head with every time I checked my email. Nonetheless, when your boss is on vacation, you are on vacation, and a third person at another location is helping you organize a conference, work will rear its head. At this point we have about 10 people coming to join us in Hyderabad to talk about the local water situation. Everyone is from within our institute.
---end interlude---
Goa had two new options for getting around; in addition to the normal taxis, autos and buses were motorcycle taxis and scooter rental. Since I didn't know where I was going, I opted mainly for the buses, which were quite relaxing.
The buses are smaller than in Hyderabad or Delhi and have just 12 rows and usually one entrance/exit. As normal, the drivers of the bus were listening to local pop radio. Only in Goa, pop radio is a cross between dance club style house music, Goan style heavy trance techno, and then Bollywood style Indian (Konkani) lyrics.
I took a bus to the end of one beach area. As we passed through the 1km of town, I noticed that most of the stores were closed. I was hoping that my hotel, at the secluded end, would still be open. As I got off the bus and walked along a creek, looking for a bridge to this other area, I encountered an American and a German who were there for months. They shepherded me to a 4 room hotel that had better off season rates and was guarded by two large friendly dogs. Both of these oversized Cujo's escorted me to my room and wanted to come inside to play.
I took a short walk across a beautiful fisherman's rocky bluffs of ocean front to a secluded palm filled beach. After a relaxing stop I continued on to South Anjuna Beach.
The Goan airport, a two baggage train operation, would have been comfortable in rural Virginia. The minor exceptions were armed military standing on the side of the runway, the oversized military airplane hangers, and what appeared to be fighter jets and C-130s with their noses covered in cotton cloth. Might this be the Indian equivalent to car solar shades, keeping the cockpit shaded and cool?
A prepayed taxi, costing $11 for 15 miles brought me to the old city of Panjim. This tourist stop brought me in contact with non-researcher Westerners for the first time in days. I had gotten into the habit in Hyderabad of waving to Westerners, as I so rarely saw any. Now, every 20th person being a tourist made me rethink my modus operandi.
Fontainhas is tiny. About three or four city blocks cover the whole area. Here every 4th shop sells knickknacks. Presiding over the town at the top of a hill is a whitewashed church. All the trimming is in blue. The outdoor stairs approaching are nice and even included a single chillum/marijuana vender/beggar.
After wandering a bit about town, I found a tiffins (snacks) restaurant that had reasonable prices. While enjoying my freshly juiced pomegranates another traveler came in. I motioned for this Asian girl to join my table, and was surprised to find the Korean girl could barely speak English. In fact, her travelers English was about equivalent to my Spanish- able to ask for the toilet, a room, and a meal but explaining complex ideas was quite difficult.
After 30 minutes of talking over a jelly sandwich, we determined she came on a aid mission similar to Habitat for Humanity and was now taking 2 weeks to see a bit of India. I thought it rather bully of her to both help and travel in a nation where she could barely communicate. I was also thankful for her perspective, because my lack of Hindi didn't place me that far off from her.
---quick interlude---
Unfortunately, work continued to rear its ugly head with every time I checked my email. Nonetheless, when your boss is on vacation, you are on vacation, and a third person at another location is helping you organize a conference, work will rear its head. At this point we have about 10 people coming to join us in Hyderabad to talk about the local water situation. Everyone is from within our institute.
---end interlude---
Goa had two new options for getting around; in addition to the normal taxis, autos and buses were motorcycle taxis and scooter rental. Since I didn't know where I was going, I opted mainly for the buses, which were quite relaxing.
The buses are smaller than in Hyderabad or Delhi and have just 12 rows and usually one entrance/exit. As normal, the drivers of the bus were listening to local pop radio. Only in Goa, pop radio is a cross between dance club style house music, Goan style heavy trance techno, and then Bollywood style Indian (Konkani) lyrics.
I took a bus to the end of one beach area. As we passed through the 1km of town, I noticed that most of the stores were closed. I was hoping that my hotel, at the secluded end, would still be open. As I got off the bus and walked along a creek, looking for a bridge to this other area, I encountered an American and a German who were there for months. They shepherded me to a 4 room hotel that had better off season rates and was guarded by two large friendly dogs. Both of these oversized Cujo's escorted me to my room and wanted to come inside to play.
I took a short walk across a beautiful fisherman's rocky bluffs of ocean front to a secluded palm filled beach. After a relaxing stop I continued on to South Anjuna Beach.
Medical Fun - India 15
Medical care in India is rather nice. I believe I mentioned in another post about a friend whose sole purpose in India was cheaper treatment. The standards here are also rather high with the costs about 1/3-1/20 of Western countries, due to the abundance of doctors and cheaper standard of living.
Because of this, I decided to look into eye surgery. Most of you remember I wear glasses, and many of you have seen me with contacts, but as a general rule, I become allergic to my contact fluid over time, and I understand that poor optical hygiene has begun showing up in national health statistics. Consequently, I decided I was a good candidate for eye surgery.
I talked with several people. A man on a bus worked at a national chain of hospitals, which had state of the art equipment for eye surgery. I talked with the campus doctor who recommended the practice of an accomplished surgeon who had years of experience with eye surgery. I consulted a nursing student in Kentuckiana (thanks Angie), and of course I looked at the internet.
I found this out in order. $40 of testing will perform every measurement possible on your eye, give you a blood test for HIV and a few other diseases (I'm negative) and will prepare you for the newest eye-surgery available from Bausch and Lomb. $40 will not provide this surgery ($1,200 for both eyes -$1k-3k cheaper than US), nor will it indicate that 2004's surgeries show a ~5% rate of people requiring follow-up surgery over the next year for one eye. Nor will it tell you that skipping these 3 month and 1 year checkups would be bad idea for that decision.
Only slightly surprising to me in that these Indian doctors didn't fully brief all the risks. Of course, the cost of surgery 50k Rs., is about the amount of money I would need in order to live here for a year.
In other news, I do enjoy self-medicating, even with schedule H drugs, which supposedly "require a prescription." Even if I decided to abuse them, the sheer number of pharmacies (like doctors) ensures I can get my fix. It would certainly be nice to have a license in the US, which allows and taxes recreational drug use but prohibits driving. In my Indian case, I have been medicating only for intestinal and ear trouble according to FDA specifications.
I pose the question, what motivates someone to become a pharmacist? It seems to me to have less glamour than either accountant or lawyer, which are usually not very glamorous jobs.
Because of this, I decided to look into eye surgery. Most of you remember I wear glasses, and many of you have seen me with contacts, but as a general rule, I become allergic to my contact fluid over time, and I understand that poor optical hygiene has begun showing up in national health statistics. Consequently, I decided I was a good candidate for eye surgery.
I talked with several people. A man on a bus worked at a national chain of hospitals, which had state of the art equipment for eye surgery. I talked with the campus doctor who recommended the practice of an accomplished surgeon who had years of experience with eye surgery. I consulted a nursing student in Kentuckiana (thanks Angie), and of course I looked at the internet.
I found this out in order. $40 of testing will perform every measurement possible on your eye, give you a blood test for HIV and a few other diseases (I'm negative) and will prepare you for the newest eye-surgery available from Bausch and Lomb. $40 will not provide this surgery ($1,200 for both eyes -$1k-3k cheaper than US), nor will it indicate that 2004's surgeries show a ~5% rate of people requiring follow-up surgery over the next year for one eye. Nor will it tell you that skipping these 3 month and 1 year checkups would be bad idea for that decision.
Only slightly surprising to me in that these Indian doctors didn't fully brief all the risks. Of course, the cost of surgery 50k Rs., is about the amount of money I would need in order to live here for a year.
In other news, I do enjoy self-medicating, even with schedule H drugs, which supposedly "require a prescription." Even if I decided to abuse them, the sheer number of pharmacies (like doctors) ensures I can get my fix. It would certainly be nice to have a license in the US, which allows and taxes recreational drug use but prohibits driving. In my Indian case, I have been medicating only for intestinal and ear trouble according to FDA specifications.
I pose the question, what motivates someone to become a pharmacist? It seems to me to have less glamour than either accountant or lawyer, which are usually not very glamorous jobs.
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Milk and More - India 14
I have complained several times about the US being more advanced than India; however, I admit that Indians do a good job with their milk. Cows, while sacred and not officially eaten in any state are nonetheless raised for milk or even used like oxen as beasts of burden. I have tried a variety of milk from the supermarket and at frash stands. Typically in the city I can get a refreshing draught of coconut or almond milk, and a few juice stands sell cow's milk. I have yet to see goat's milk. However, here in my room I have three kinds of homogenized milk: skim milk, only sold here by Nestlé, low fat, at 1.5% fat, and normal milk, at a whopping 4.5% fat. Thats a full 1.25% extra fat above the states' good ole' Vitamin D Milk.
I started reading my travel guide for information on Goa and Kerala and found myself laughing. Several the articles and tips were almost pulled direct from Molvanîa or Phaic Tan. Kind of makes it hard to take seriously when the writing is so easily parodied that one could write the commentary without even experiencing the culture. Especially when the by-line for the publisher is "For the Undiscerning Traveler".
I started reading my travel guide for information on Goa and Kerala and found myself laughing. Several the articles and tips were almost pulled direct from Molvanîa or Phaic Tan. Kind of makes it hard to take seriously when the writing is so easily parodied that one could write the commentary without even experiencing the culture. Especially when the by-line for the publisher is "For the Undiscerning Traveler".
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Not In Bombay, Hyderabad on Alert
Let me start off with this. I was not in Bombay (Mumbai) during the attacks and spent all day on campus yesterday. Today I will be staying on campus, because I expect the government buildings will be more challenging than normal to get in. Traffic will also be slow. I will wait an extra day to avoid security issues.
I am sure it is quite awful for those still in Bombay. Even if the commuter trains just crashed there would be a huge delay. The mumbai transportation system is a mess, and the public transit is one of the main lifelines for the area. Unlike Hong Kong, there aren't enough water taxis to relieve transit pressure.
I am sure it is quite awful for those still in Bombay. Even if the commuter trains just crashed there would be a huge delay. The mumbai transportation system is a mess, and the public transit is one of the main lifelines for the area. Unlike Hong Kong, there aren't enough water taxis to relieve transit pressure.
Saturday, July 01, 2006
More Tourist Stuff - India 13
Another greeting commonly used in India is "Where are you from?", "Of what country?" or my personal favorite "Of Where?". These were all heard one Saturday in late June, when Amu, my South African friend, and I decided to wander around Patancheru, the nearest town to ICRISAT.
As many of us know, this often involves seeing parts of a country we wouldn't otherwise notice. In this case we ran across both the standard greetings and the unusual offer of a free pomeranian dog. Apparently the Indian was not particularly happy with his pet. In addition, the slum area we walked through had several rubble or rubbish piles, which made fine homes for puppies and piglets.
As we left the slum for some fields we passed a dining table sized enclosed Hindu shrine, pack of school children (on Saturday!), several of which were dwarfed by the messenger bag backpacks they carried. These totes are typical school bags for tiny tots to teenagers. We also wandered behind some welding and paint industries, which had turned a pond behind them blue.
One of the workers came out and asked me (ignoring the dark skinned Amu) where I was from. He also indicated that 7 km south was a nice place to walk, a resort. Neither Amu nor I were sure we heard him correctly and thought he might have meant our research center. We quickly circled the industries and came out on the highway.
After walking along the highway, we noticed a sign for Lahori Resort and realized that this was what the man had meant. So we turned down the road and decided to get an auto on this side road, rather than the main road. 15 minutes later we gave up, and decided even hitchiking into one of the many trucks passing by would be acceptible.
Surprisingly, a car stopped for us. However they knew no English, and we knew neither Telugu nor Hindi. So we hopped in and rode 6 km to the entrance gate of Lahori. Bowing in thanks, we started to walk down the entry road. After 15 minutes, we came to 5 thatch and tarp shanties stealing electricity. Another 10 minutes brought us to a rock quarry full of men covered in bathing suds jumping into the quarry lake. Finally, 10 minutes of walking later we made it to the real entrance gate to the resort. This was probably 12km from where a sign had advertised 7km.
The Resort was rather interesting: There was a lazy river, some water slides, two pools, a hotel, three restaurants and four unfinished buidlings. The grounds were littered with workers installing walkways, turf, arches and walls. While the hotel, one pool, and water slides were open, going from one to another was quite hazardous as one needed to dodge construction equipment, open pits, and exposed wires. Nonetheless the maître d' was happy to tell me that they had rooms available, a lovely café and a Phillippino band for evening entertainment. While it didn't surprise me to have an unfinished resort open for business, as I have seen associated hotels do this to help recover costs/train employees, it did surprise me that this was suggested as a place to enjoy a nice stroll.
Nonetheless, we finally found the bigscreen TV people wanted for watching the worldcup. The café had a lovely LG 60-70inch on the wall. All we would have to do is hire a driver for the evening, as the 30 minute walk back to the main road was rather much. [As I edit this post 1 month later we have yet to go back]
As many of us know, this often involves seeing parts of a country we wouldn't otherwise notice. In this case we ran across both the standard greetings and the unusual offer of a free pomeranian dog. Apparently the Indian was not particularly happy with his pet. In addition, the slum area we walked through had several rubble or rubbish piles, which made fine homes for puppies and piglets.
As we left the slum for some fields we passed a dining table sized enclosed Hindu shrine, pack of school children (on Saturday!), several of which were dwarfed by the messenger bag backpacks they carried. These totes are typical school bags for tiny tots to teenagers. We also wandered behind some welding and paint industries, which had turned a pond behind them blue.
One of the workers came out and asked me (ignoring the dark skinned Amu) where I was from. He also indicated that 7 km south was a nice place to walk, a resort. Neither Amu nor I were sure we heard him correctly and thought he might have meant our research center. We quickly circled the industries and came out on the highway.
After walking along the highway, we noticed a sign for Lahori Resort and realized that this was what the man had meant. So we turned down the road and decided to get an auto on this side road, rather than the main road. 15 minutes later we gave up, and decided even hitchiking into one of the many trucks passing by would be acceptible.
Surprisingly, a car stopped for us. However they knew no English, and we knew neither Telugu nor Hindi. So we hopped in and rode 6 km to the entrance gate of Lahori. Bowing in thanks, we started to walk down the entry road. After 15 minutes, we came to 5 thatch and tarp shanties stealing electricity. Another 10 minutes brought us to a rock quarry full of men covered in bathing suds jumping into the quarry lake. Finally, 10 minutes of walking later we made it to the real entrance gate to the resort. This was probably 12km from where a sign had advertised 7km.
The Resort was rather interesting: There was a lazy river, some water slides, two pools, a hotel, three restaurants and four unfinished buidlings. The grounds were littered with workers installing walkways, turf, arches and walls. While the hotel, one pool, and water slides were open, going from one to another was quite hazardous as one needed to dodge construction equipment, open pits, and exposed wires. Nonetheless the maître d' was happy to tell me that they had rooms available, a lovely café and a Phillippino band for evening entertainment. While it didn't surprise me to have an unfinished resort open for business, as I have seen associated hotels do this to help recover costs/train employees, it did surprise me that this was suggested as a place to enjoy a nice stroll.
Nonetheless, we finally found the bigscreen TV people wanted for watching the worldcup. The café had a lovely LG 60-70inch on the wall. All we would have to do is hire a driver for the evening, as the 30 minute walk back to the main road was rather much. [As I edit this post 1 month later we have yet to go back]
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
A new greeting/ Day as a Tourist - India 12
There are several common greetings in India. Namaste or Namaskaar are classic Hindu/Hindi greetings. Salaam aleichem is a greeting for Muslims. Hello or How are you, sir, are also normal salutations. While traveling as a tourist I realized there was another greeting, mainly from kids, but acceptable from many different people: 5 Rupees, or 5 Rupees , Sir, or Please, 5 Rupees.
Prior to today, I thought of this simply as begging. Now I realize that this is just as normal a greeting as Namaste or Hello. I think if anyone asks me what I learned in India, it will be: Please, 5 Rupees. If they give me money and ask again, I will repeat.
After the Mosque we went to an archaeological "museum." This reminded me of Indian libraries. In this one story building surrounding a courtyard 6 rooms had carved stones from Andhra Pradesh history. One half of the rooms (3/6) had these stones labeled as to content and date (13th century to 18th century). The other half had no label at all and most of the unlabeled stones were lying on the floor.
Our guide, a teenager with broken English, would unlock the rooms and describe what he could of the contents. If we wanted to, we could touch the museum pieces. Only this teenager's semivigilant, and likely bribable, watch kept us from taking the pieces. In distinct contrast to the guide at the Mosque, he was overjoyed when we gave him Rs. 100's for his efforts. I hope he develops his English/knowledge for future tourists.
Our final site was Golkonda Fort. The inner fort, built on a strong hill, was the best dilapidated stronghold to which I have ever been. Shounye and I climbed all over the walls and buildings (no guard rails) . This was as close as I have gotten to hiking in India and it was real work.
As two obvious foreigners we were apparently a spectacle. I saw three other whites in the fort, but they were all part of a tour group. Shounye and I explored the fort and the hill it was on. We took our time and whenever we stopped to talk, a small crowd would gather about. On our climb down we were joined by a group of 5 kids, happy to see the two foreigners. We took a picture together although Shounye and I's legs were shaking for all our exercise.
At the base, when I went to use the bathroom, a worker motioned me over and unlocked the bathroom for honored guests. Surprisingly, the marble interior was spotless and even had toilet paper. Nonetheless, it still lacked Japanese flair.
Has anyone found a good US dealer of high-tech toilets?
Prior to today, I thought of this simply as begging. Now I realize that this is just as normal a greeting as Namaste or Hello. I think if anyone asks me what I learned in India, it will be: Please, 5 Rupees. If they give me money and ask again, I will repeat.
After the Mosque we went to an archaeological "museum." This reminded me of Indian libraries. In this one story building surrounding a courtyard 6 rooms had carved stones from Andhra Pradesh history. One half of the rooms (3/6) had these stones labeled as to content and date (13th century to 18th century). The other half had no label at all and most of the unlabeled stones were lying on the floor.
Our guide, a teenager with broken English, would unlock the rooms and describe what he could of the contents. If we wanted to, we could touch the museum pieces. Only this teenager's semivigilant, and likely bribable, watch kept us from taking the pieces. In distinct contrast to the guide at the Mosque, he was overjoyed when we gave him Rs. 100's for his efforts. I hope he develops his English/knowledge for future tourists.
Our final site was Golkonda Fort. The inner fort, built on a strong hill, was the best dilapidated stronghold to which I have ever been. Shounye and I climbed all over the walls and buildings (no guard rails) . This was as close as I have gotten to hiking in India and it was real work.
As two obvious foreigners we were apparently a spectacle. I saw three other whites in the fort, but they were all part of a tour group. Shounye and I explored the fort and the hill it was on. We took our time and whenever we stopped to talk, a small crowd would gather about. On our climb down we were joined by a group of 5 kids, happy to see the two foreigners. We took a picture together although Shounye and I's legs were shaking for all our exercise.
At the base, when I went to use the bathroom, a worker motioned me over and unlocked the bathroom for honored guests. Surprisingly, the marble interior was spotless and even had toilet paper. Nonetheless, it still lacked Japanese flair.
Has anyone found a good US dealer of high-tech toilets?
Sunday, June 18, 2006
A day as a Tourist - India 11
Sunday, I went traipsing around Hyderabad, with my erstwhile companion, the intern Shounye from Tokyo. Our plan was to go to three sites: 1) the royal retreat, Falaknuma Palace, 2) the emblem of Hyderabad, Charminar, and 3) the nigh impregnable fort, Golkonda. At 9am we set off on our day's gallivant.
For nearly three hours, by bus (to Secunderabad), by train (MMTS from Secunderabad to Falaknuma), and by foot (2km from station to palace) we trekked to Falaknuma. Interestingly, the doors on the bus and trains are never closed, to allow convenient exit points. We two, however, traveled nearly the full length of the metro transit system to arrive at our first destination,
where we found a day laborer foreman asking us whose permission we had to view the palace. Interestingly, Falaknuma Palace is private property. It also happens to be in the midst of 2yr long renovation. Therefore, no one can enter for tours, absent permission. Amused that the state tours still list this attraction and resolute in our tourist status, we continued on to Charminar,
where we got in line to climb the edifice. About five minutes in, a man came and told us to follow him; we were in the wrong line. The other line, which looked like the exit to me (and it was) had no one in it. We foreign tourists were shepherded to the front through the exit and had to pay Rs. 100 instead of the Indian cost of Rs. 8. This then gave us permission to continue to the head of the climbing queue. Not the best for intercultural relations but justifiable for paying 12.5x the entry fee.
Interestingly, Indians don't normally form lines. Usually they slowly press forward until a couple of hands with papers or money are all in front of the teller person. The teller sits at what Indians term a "cell" rather than desk or counter. I believe the only reason there was a line for Charminar, was because the 40-50 person throng awaiting entry into the monument in the center of a traffic circle would have spilled unacceptably into traffic.
Charminar, and its neighboring giant mosque, the Mecca Masjid were neat enough structures, but I really have no appreciation for the time and effort it took to build them at the time. The mosque took 77 years to build.
An English speaking Indian took Shounye and I on a whirlwind tour of the Mosque. I gave the man what I thought it was worth, Rs. 10. Shounye couldn't find his small bills and surprised me by giving the man Rs. 100. While this man was useful, I felt bad for future tourists that we had overpaid the huckster.
For nearly three hours, by bus (to Secunderabad), by train (MMTS from Secunderabad to Falaknuma), and by foot (2km from station to palace) we trekked to Falaknuma. Interestingly, the doors on the bus and trains are never closed, to allow convenient exit points. We two, however, traveled nearly the full length of the metro transit system to arrive at our first destination,
where we found a day laborer foreman asking us whose permission we had to view the palace. Interestingly, Falaknuma Palace is private property. It also happens to be in the midst of 2yr long renovation. Therefore, no one can enter for tours, absent permission. Amused that the state tours still list this attraction and resolute in our tourist status, we continued on to Charminar,
where we got in line to climb the edifice. About five minutes in, a man came and told us to follow him; we were in the wrong line. The other line, which looked like the exit to me (and it was) had no one in it. We foreign tourists were shepherded to the front through the exit and had to pay Rs. 100 instead of the Indian cost of Rs. 8. This then gave us permission to continue to the head of the climbing queue. Not the best for intercultural relations but justifiable for paying 12.5x the entry fee.
Interestingly, Indians don't normally form lines. Usually they slowly press forward until a couple of hands with papers or money are all in front of the teller person. The teller sits at what Indians term a "cell" rather than desk or counter. I believe the only reason there was a line for Charminar, was because the 40-50 person throng awaiting entry into the monument in the center of a traffic circle would have spilled unacceptably into traffic.
Charminar, and its neighboring giant mosque, the Mecca Masjid were neat enough structures, but I really have no appreciation for the time and effort it took to build them at the time. The mosque took 77 years to build.
An English speaking Indian took Shounye and I on a whirlwind tour of the Mosque. I gave the man what I thought it was worth, Rs. 10. Shounye couldn't find his small bills and surprised me by giving the man Rs. 100. While this man was useful, I felt bad for future tourists that we had overpaid the huckster.
Saturday, June 17, 2006
Uruguay beats the US - World Cup Part 2
In protest to the US being beaten with Red Cards by the Uruguayan Ref, I give up my blog on India for yet another day. In other news, the US tied Italy 1-1.
Note: the World Cup is the most exciting thing of late. More adventures soon!
Note: the World Cup is the most exciting thing of late. More adventures soon!
Monday, June 12, 2006
We regret to inform you... - World Cup Part 1
One thing and one thing only has dominated my days since June 9th. Therefore, today I am ashamed of my country on the national stage. While Germany and so many other teams have played as though they knew where their teammates would place the ball, my home country, USA, does not. I regret to inform you that USA has lost 3-0 in their opening match to the Czechs.
This is a trivial setback, as the Greatest Nation will defeat Ghana and Italy to continue on to play the winner of Group F: Brasil. Crap.
This is a trivial setback, as the Greatest Nation will defeat Ghana and Italy to continue on to play the winner of Group F: Brasil. Crap.
Day-glo Orange / INP - India 10
This post is not about caution tape or warning signs. While some say that India could use this, I do not begrudge it for lacking warning signs in or on its boarders. Frankly, this is probably because I am tired of seeing warnings in the U.S.
This post is about a get-rich scheme of mine involving letter and road numbers. Much like the Alaska plan, I have no doubt in the efficacy of my get rich quick scheme. For today I fell afoul of the directional system of India.
My plan is a little like this:
Step 1: Get to where you need to be
...
Step 3: Profit!
The genesis of my plan occurred when I boarded a bus into the city, as per normal. I usually board a bus with one of three neighborhoods or 5 numbers on it. The bus I boarded had the city center listed instead of a neighborhood or number.
---
I tell the conductor I want to go to the city center. "We don't go there." So I get off at a transfer point and caught one of the 5 buses.
I get off the bus with a nice government worker who shepherds me through the security entrance so I can get to the office without walking an extra mile. Of course the government building I enter has no floor plan or directory.
So, I wander until I find where I think I want to go (standard Greg in India procedure) and then I ask a person behind a desk, "Is this where X progress report is?" They then bring me to someone else, who usually brings me to a third person. Only today the third person didn't show up, so at 11:30 rather than the normal start time of 10:30, I get to the records room. This works splendidly until the librarian has to go to the library he normally works at, which means I have to get permission from his superior to continue there.
The superior gives me permission, but tells me I should immediately talk to someone else. This someone else gives me a 3rd person in another building. This other building is only a few kilometers away, but no one can point it out on a map or give an address (because addresses don't exist, just landmarks). They can only give direction that it is behind Irrumzentale neighborhood and near the Taj Residency Hotel.
So I go to the Taj Residency, show them the office name (Engineer-in-Chief of the state rural water supply) and the Taj gives me bad directions. So I go to the nearby National government building with a rural water mandate and they give me bad directions. So I go to the nearby Taj Krishna (maybe they switched hotel names) and they direct me to the offices of the Metropolitan Water Supply rather than the offices of the Rural Water Supply. The Metropolitan Water Supply has no idea.
Then I walk to the center of the neighborhood and show my information to three irrigation or water coordination offices I come across. The first doesn't have anyone who speaks English. The second only knows it isn't in there building, and the third, who can't direct me offers to have his driver take me there.
His driver chooses to use his own motorcycle, so I hop on the back, and ride to the Rural Water Supply, within a few hundred meters of the Metropolitan Water Supply. To the MWS's credit, there were office buildings and apartments between us. Nonetheless, 3 hours to go a few kilometers is inexcusable.
Incidentally, there was some rioting here when helmet laws began to be enforced and about half the drivers darting between trucks and buses lack helmets.
Back to the main point-
Step 0: day-glo orange house and building numbers painted on the street (so people will see and use them) and numbered by 5's (for future construction possibilities). The first city that enforces this would have such a marked increase in navigability, it would be worth the paint. Buildings should have directories. And somewhere or other, the metropolitan area should publish a bus map.
These increases would allow everybody in India to reach Step 1, and then there is no telling how long until Step 3: Profit!
When I get back to my dorm, I go use the bathroom. The fluorescent light doesn't turn on when I switch it, so I flick it off and get shocked. It takes a moment to register that I am feeling pain and pull away. I swear for the first time in 2 months. I then flicked the switch on (down in India) with my toothpaste. After using the toilet I went to turn the light off (up), and guess what happens? My other arm starts jerking and I swear for the second time in as many months.
This post is about a get-rich scheme of mine involving letter and road numbers. Much like the Alaska plan, I have no doubt in the efficacy of my get rich quick scheme. For today I fell afoul of the directional system of India.
My plan is a little like this:
Step 1: Get to where you need to be
...
Step 3: Profit!
The genesis of my plan occurred when I boarded a bus into the city, as per normal. I usually board a bus with one of three neighborhoods or 5 numbers on it. The bus I boarded had the city center listed instead of a neighborhood or number.
---
I tell the conductor I want to go to the city center. "We don't go there." So I get off at a transfer point and caught one of the 5 buses.
I get off the bus with a nice government worker who shepherds me through the security entrance so I can get to the office without walking an extra mile. Of course the government building I enter has no floor plan or directory.
So, I wander until I find where I think I want to go (standard Greg in India procedure) and then I ask a person behind a desk, "Is this where X progress report is?" They then bring me to someone else, who usually brings me to a third person. Only today the third person didn't show up, so at 11:30 rather than the normal start time of 10:30, I get to the records room. This works splendidly until the librarian has to go to the library he normally works at, which means I have to get permission from his superior to continue there.
The superior gives me permission, but tells me I should immediately talk to someone else. This someone else gives me a 3rd person in another building. This other building is only a few kilometers away, but no one can point it out on a map or give an address (because addresses don't exist, just landmarks). They can only give direction that it is behind Irrumzentale neighborhood and near the Taj Residency Hotel.
So I go to the Taj Residency, show them the office name (Engineer-in-Chief of the state rural water supply) and the Taj gives me bad directions. So I go to the nearby National government building with a rural water mandate and they give me bad directions. So I go to the nearby Taj Krishna (maybe they switched hotel names) and they direct me to the offices of the Metropolitan Water Supply rather than the offices of the Rural Water Supply. The Metropolitan Water Supply has no idea.
Then I walk to the center of the neighborhood and show my information to three irrigation or water coordination offices I come across. The first doesn't have anyone who speaks English. The second only knows it isn't in there building, and the third, who can't direct me offers to have his driver take me there.
His driver chooses to use his own motorcycle, so I hop on the back, and ride to the Rural Water Supply, within a few hundred meters of the Metropolitan Water Supply. To the MWS's credit, there were office buildings and apartments between us. Nonetheless, 3 hours to go a few kilometers is inexcusable.
Incidentally, there was some rioting here when helmet laws began to be enforced and about half the drivers darting between trucks and buses lack helmets.
Back to the main point-
Step 0: day-glo orange house and building numbers painted on the street (so people will see and use them) and numbered by 5's (for future construction possibilities). The first city that enforces this would have such a marked increase in navigability, it would be worth the paint. Buildings should have directories. And somewhere or other, the metropolitan area should publish a bus map.
These increases would allow everybody in India to reach Step 1, and then there is no telling how long until Step 3: Profit!
When I get back to my dorm, I go use the bathroom. The fluorescent light doesn't turn on when I switch it, so I flick it off and get shocked. It takes a moment to register that I am feeling pain and pull away. I swear for the first time in 2 months. I then flicked the switch on (down in India) with my toothpaste. After using the toilet I went to turn the light off (up), and guess what happens? My other arm starts jerking and I swear for the second time in as many months.
Monday, June 05, 2006
Weather, Work, and Timothy - India 9
The rains are coming, I can tell by the smell and the wind in the air. The rain is nice and helps cool things down. Many people stand waiting underneath awnings, but despite getting used to wearing long sleeves and pants, walking/standing in the rain helps keep my temperature decent. Today was a cool day; it only got up to 94.
We went biking through the pastoral landscape of my campus. The farm roads are accessible and there is a large lake with pavilion. Around sunset the 90 or so peacocks are out and about. Unfortunately the mosquitos come at the same time. Todays rain kept the mosquitos down, but it also sent us packing. While the monsoons haven't yet started I could use wipers for my glasses.
The trees around my dorm are pregnant with mangoes. The wind causes them to drop. Workers pick them up and some pile them into bags. Many are sold and many go into pickles. For my part I have tried these unripened mangoes, and I have to agree they are better as pickles.
Last year, I am told, the mangoes were plump, yellow and brilliant. Therefore, this year the crop is not so good. Most of the mangoes are mainly pit with little flesh to enjoy. I am tempted to rename this blog about food, because that is all I seem to want to write about.
Three people have been given IV's for heat, one gets used to the heat, and then many forget to drink, or they have diuretics like alcohol in the evening after a day in the field. Hydration is particularly a challenge, because except at a nice restaurant: the poor sanitation encourages bottled water, which isnt always available. The common idea of a clean straw or spoon is a spotless one, even if that means cleaned by thumb, right in front of the patron. I am told that straws are recycled.
I keep bottled water in the library with me, although I sampled the water today at the Chinese restaurant. This afternoon I started making photocopies in data collection from annual reviews of the state of Andhra Pradesh's five year plan. I had a breakthrough when I found that these reviews list projects, how much was spent on them, whether they were completed, and what steps will be taken. These directly relate to my goal of finding government actions and commitment to drinking water on the Krishna river.
Conveniently, this morning I hitched a ride towards town with the head librarian of ICRISAT. I have often tended towards librarians and this one is no exception. After explaining my research he told me that if I need a document in any library in Hyderabad, he would pass my name as a contact. This is useful because I believe the annual reviews of Andhra Pradesh are mostly in the Secretariat Library, which is only somewhat open to the public. I will head there or to a university library tomorrow. Is anyone else's summer being spent in libraries?
While taking the shuttle home from nearby the Hyderabad International School, a waiter riding the bus gave me a Christian Bible quote tract. For the most part, humdrum except that it quotes from I Tim. I had thought I read the Catholic Bible, which includes more than the typical protestant Bible, but I didn't recall a gospel of Timothy. I wonder if my copy didn't have it due to its discredited nature. More likely, I simply disregarded the Epistles, as they are not my favorite part of the Bible. For a while though, I had wondered if the Indians had extra parts to their Bible and not just been the recipients of visiting Apostles.
We went biking through the pastoral landscape of my campus. The farm roads are accessible and there is a large lake with pavilion. Around sunset the 90 or so peacocks are out and about. Unfortunately the mosquitos come at the same time. Todays rain kept the mosquitos down, but it also sent us packing. While the monsoons haven't yet started I could use wipers for my glasses.
The trees around my dorm are pregnant with mangoes. The wind causes them to drop. Workers pick them up and some pile them into bags. Many are sold and many go into pickles. For my part I have tried these unripened mangoes, and I have to agree they are better as pickles.
Last year, I am told, the mangoes were plump, yellow and brilliant. Therefore, this year the crop is not so good. Most of the mangoes are mainly pit with little flesh to enjoy. I am tempted to rename this blog about food, because that is all I seem to want to write about.
Three people have been given IV's for heat, one gets used to the heat, and then many forget to drink, or they have diuretics like alcohol in the evening after a day in the field. Hydration is particularly a challenge, because except at a nice restaurant: the poor sanitation encourages bottled water, which isnt always available. The common idea of a clean straw or spoon is a spotless one, even if that means cleaned by thumb, right in front of the patron. I am told that straws are recycled.
I keep bottled water in the library with me, although I sampled the water today at the Chinese restaurant. This afternoon I started making photocopies in data collection from annual reviews of the state of Andhra Pradesh's five year plan. I had a breakthrough when I found that these reviews list projects, how much was spent on them, whether they were completed, and what steps will be taken. These directly relate to my goal of finding government actions and commitment to drinking water on the Krishna river.
Conveniently, this morning I hitched a ride towards town with the head librarian of ICRISAT. I have often tended towards librarians and this one is no exception. After explaining my research he told me that if I need a document in any library in Hyderabad, he would pass my name as a contact. This is useful because I believe the annual reviews of Andhra Pradesh are mostly in the Secretariat Library, which is only somewhat open to the public. I will head there or to a university library tomorrow. Is anyone else's summer being spent in libraries?
While taking the shuttle home from nearby the Hyderabad International School, a waiter riding the bus gave me a Christian Bible quote tract. For the most part, humdrum except that it quotes from I Tim. I had thought I read the Catholic Bible, which includes more than the typical protestant Bible, but I didn't recall a gospel of Timothy. I wonder if my copy didn't have it due to its discredited nature. More likely, I simply disregarded the Epistles, as they are not my favorite part of the Bible. For a while though, I had wondered if the Indians had extra parts to their Bible and not just been the recipients of visiting Apostles.
Sunday, June 04, 2006
The 5 P's of India (and a bit about work)- India 8
So I wanted to wait abit until I had some experience outside the UN/ICRISAT campus to post about. This week I went 35km to the Medak District police headquarters in order to register as a resident foreigner. While this was a routine registration requiring a single signature, we got a bit of a runaround and had to wait 3 hours.
Later this week I went in to the City Central Library (CCL) to view the Andhra Pradesh Gazetteer (equivalent to the Federal Register) and several books listing which laws were in effect, because neither were available historically online. We also went to see the library minister to get permission to use a camara (their are no accessible copy machines). This incured a 3 hour wait.
My point? In India all things work given the proper balance of the the four 5 P's: Politeness
Patience, Persistence, Pushiness, People.
People bow, bring you drinks, and are more than happy to show you to a seat; however, once you are in the seat, nothing will necessarily happen. Perhaps you need to speak to the right person, need anyone's letter of recommendation, or simply need to wait. I am told that many things which require 5 min or less of work take days or weeks, and if you don't call/come again (thank you), people believe you don't care enough for them to complete the task.
People are key. Just as in the US, if you drop the right name, you are in. Sometimes any name will do, and now I always carry a letter of recommendation. Other times I need to have my boss call a friend, who calls a friend, and then all doors are open. With so many people in India, there is no surprise doors are closed. After all, who can you trust?
The reason I am writing all of this, is because the project I work on is a sensitive topic. Because water is a limited resource, any allocation of already allocated water equals conflict. Therefore I tell officials nothing about other projects between states or cities on the Krishna river, but instead simply indicate my focus on urban drinking water.
At this point my project involves going into the city for a couple of weeks to collect data. If nothing else, this alone is fun. I get to leave the artificial atmosphere of the campus and experience India.
Later this week I went in to the City Central Library (CCL) to view the Andhra Pradesh Gazetteer (equivalent to the Federal Register) and several books listing which laws were in effect, because neither were available historically online. We also went to see the library minister to get permission to use a camara (their are no accessible copy machines). This incured a 3 hour wait.
My point? In India all things work given the proper balance of the the four 5 P's: Politeness
Patience, Persistence, Pushiness, People.
People bow, bring you drinks, and are more than happy to show you to a seat; however, once you are in the seat, nothing will necessarily happen. Perhaps you need to speak to the right person, need anyone's letter of recommendation, or simply need to wait. I am told that many things which require 5 min or less of work take days or weeks, and if you don't call/come again (thank you), people believe you don't care enough for them to complete the task.
People are key. Just as in the US, if you drop the right name, you are in. Sometimes any name will do, and now I always carry a letter of recommendation. Other times I need to have my boss call a friend, who calls a friend, and then all doors are open. With so many people in India, there is no surprise doors are closed. After all, who can you trust?
The reason I am writing all of this, is because the project I work on is a sensitive topic. Because water is a limited resource, any allocation of already allocated water equals conflict. Therefore I tell officials nothing about other projects between states or cities on the Krishna river, but instead simply indicate my focus on urban drinking water.
At this point my project involves going into the city for a couple of weeks to collect data. If nothing else, this alone is fun. I get to leave the artificial atmosphere of the campus and experience India.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
Sunday with Ramesh and Satish - India 7
Sunday, I decided to take it easy and recover from my trip to KFC. The only plan I had was to go to Chandinagar and make 5 passport photos for my police registration. Around 3 or 4, as the day was cooling, I went to the bus stop at the liquor store just off campus and caught a bus to the closest town.
For those who are unfamiliar with buses in third world countries, catching a bus in India is easier said than done. Buses may have a short (5sec) stop but usually they just slow down. This is because the bus usually only has men getting on or off and the bus is already packed. In Andhra Pradesh the first 6 rows of every bus are reserved for women. The back is packed with men, some of which are just barely in the stairwell. The 8th bus that came by (3min) had room enough for me to squeeze on.
5 Rupees later I arrived in town, outside the only supermarket (the size of a large 7-eleven). Like many shops it was nestled in an open concrete 3-story mall (1 floor sunken). Not seeing a photo-booth I wandered into some back streets until I came to a photo-shop.
I talked with the proprietor, who spoke well-enunciated English, to determine I would pay 60 rupees for 8 passport size glossies, made with a digital camera. He told me it would be five minutes until his brother-in-law, the owner of the shop arrived. We chatted about work and education. He introduced himself as Ramesh.
A few minutes later, his brother-in-law came in and entered the studio. Apparently this place specialized in glamour shots and portraits, which were posted on the walls about the place. My passport photos presented a special challenge, as I wanted a white background and was wearing a white shirt. As the brother-in-law made adjustments, several family members came out of the woodwork.
Ramesh, told me of how he was a math teacher in a nearby village, and that he was on holiday. Satish, another young English speaker, told of his love of American movies, and how he had just completed his M.S. in Computer Science. His job? Computer game gold farming to sell to rich Westerners in the game World of Warcraft. He was happy to practice English and hoped to get a new job.
Once my pictures were done, 45 min and a free cup of Fanta later, Ramesh and Satish wanted to know if they could get pictures with me. They had portraits made with their American friend. Afterwards they offered to be tour guides or otherwise help me, and practice their English. When I mentioned that I needed to buy a mosquito net, we spent an hour scouring the furniture and clothing stores until we found one.
Not only did they find me a mosquito net, they gave me their mobile (cel) numbers. I told them I planned to call them next weekend to see about going about Hyderabad with them. They offered to take me to the church where their family was from and introduce me to the Bishop. I think I will have to take up their offer. With "Best wishes!" and a "Cheers!" they got me aboard my bus. I returned to ICRISAT 2 friends richer.
My German friend Phillip says the best time to travel is when you have time to go where the currents may take you.
For those who are unfamiliar with buses in third world countries, catching a bus in India is easier said than done. Buses may have a short (5sec) stop but usually they just slow down. This is because the bus usually only has men getting on or off and the bus is already packed. In Andhra Pradesh the first 6 rows of every bus are reserved for women. The back is packed with men, some of which are just barely in the stairwell. The 8th bus that came by (3min) had room enough for me to squeeze on.
5 Rupees later I arrived in town, outside the only supermarket (the size of a large 7-eleven). Like many shops it was nestled in an open concrete 3-story mall (1 floor sunken). Not seeing a photo-booth I wandered into some back streets until I came to a photo-shop.
I talked with the proprietor, who spoke well-enunciated English, to determine I would pay 60 rupees for 8 passport size glossies, made with a digital camera. He told me it would be five minutes until his brother-in-law, the owner of the shop arrived. We chatted about work and education. He introduced himself as Ramesh.
A few minutes later, his brother-in-law came in and entered the studio. Apparently this place specialized in glamour shots and portraits, which were posted on the walls about the place. My passport photos presented a special challenge, as I wanted a white background and was wearing a white shirt. As the brother-in-law made adjustments, several family members came out of the woodwork.
Ramesh, told me of how he was a math teacher in a nearby village, and that he was on holiday. Satish, another young English speaker, told of his love of American movies, and how he had just completed his M.S. in Computer Science. His job? Computer game gold farming to sell to rich Westerners in the game World of Warcraft. He was happy to practice English and hoped to get a new job.
Once my pictures were done, 45 min and a free cup of Fanta later, Ramesh and Satish wanted to know if they could get pictures with me. They had portraits made with their American friend. Afterwards they offered to be tour guides or otherwise help me, and practice their English. When I mentioned that I needed to buy a mosquito net, we spent an hour scouring the furniture and clothing stores until we found one.
Not only did they find me a mosquito net, they gave me their mobile (cel) numbers. I told them I planned to call them next weekend to see about going about Hyderabad with them. They offered to take me to the church where their family was from and introduce me to the Bishop. I think I will have to take up their offer. With "Best wishes!" and a "Cheers!" they got me aboard my bus. I returned to ICRISAT 2 friends richer.
My German friend Phillip says the best time to travel is when you have time to go where the currents may take you.
Saturday in the City - India 6
Amu, a coworker from South Africa, turned 24 Saturday. Consequently, we went to a uniquely Indian restaurant that would nonetheless to remind her of home. We went to a place advertised for 3 weeks in the paper. We went to KFC.
Many of you have traveled throughout the world and have seen that lovely conspiracy of American culture: exported chain food stores. Between McDonald's, YUM Foods (KFC, Pizza Hut, T-Bell), Subway, and Burger King, I could travel the world and stick to "safe" food. While not entirely ubiquitous here in India, it doesn't take much to find one in Hyderabad. Although not my cup of tea, a friend here on a medical vacation is not only recognized at Subway, they know her order.
Each of these chains is subtly changed for the local consumer. Pizza Hut, where I intend to eat, has several varieties of Indian spiced pizzas as well as traditional Indian pizza. McD's serves neither pig nor cow, unless one refers to the occasional consumer. None offer free drink refills.
Amu bought six of us a family feast, including "Hot and Tasty" chicken, cole slaw, and french fries. While indicating that her friends would make fun of her for going to a "high school" restaurant, she was happy to get leftovers. Whats more, because it was her birthday, the staff all came out. They told Amu to stand on a chair and tell everyone in the restaurant that it was her Birthday. With a whistle, the staff then proceeded to pat their legs twice and chant "Happy Birthday, Amu!" three times. Even the Indians in the restaurant were surprised.
After our semi-service meal (after you bring your food from the counter the staff will get anything for you), our hired driver (7hours $20) took us to "Our Place" an atmospheric oasis of trees, manicured grass, and terraced seating secluded between buildings in the city. Not only did they breakout the red carpet, but the low lighting and live music gave great ambiance. Following the example of nearby tables, we (not me) got out our mobile phones and played games. My Indian guide and guru, Valentine Gandhi, had Mechwarrior on his.
Many of you have traveled throughout the world and have seen that lovely conspiracy of American culture: exported chain food stores. Between McDonald's, YUM Foods (KFC, Pizza Hut, T-Bell), Subway, and Burger King, I could travel the world and stick to "safe" food. While not entirely ubiquitous here in India, it doesn't take much to find one in Hyderabad. Although not my cup of tea, a friend here on a medical vacation is not only recognized at Subway, they know her order.
Each of these chains is subtly changed for the local consumer. Pizza Hut, where I intend to eat, has several varieties of Indian spiced pizzas as well as traditional Indian pizza. McD's serves neither pig nor cow, unless one refers to the occasional consumer. None offer free drink refills.
Amu bought six of us a family feast, including "Hot and Tasty" chicken, cole slaw, and french fries. While indicating that her friends would make fun of her for going to a "high school" restaurant, she was happy to get leftovers. Whats more, because it was her birthday, the staff all came out. They told Amu to stand on a chair and tell everyone in the restaurant that it was her Birthday. With a whistle, the staff then proceeded to pat their legs twice and chant "Happy Birthday, Amu!" three times. Even the Indians in the restaurant were surprised.
After our semi-service meal (after you bring your food from the counter the staff will get anything for you), our hired driver (7hours $20) took us to "Our Place" an atmospheric oasis of trees, manicured grass, and terraced seating secluded between buildings in the city. Not only did they breakout the red carpet, but the low lighting and live music gave great ambiance. Following the example of nearby tables, we (not me) got out our mobile phones and played games. My Indian guide and guru, Valentine Gandhi, had Mechwarrior on his.
Friday, May 26, 2006
A bit about ICRISAT / IWMI - India 5
The ICRISAT campus is a fenced in several acres separated from India. Not only are the grounds clean, but they also smell good (or so I thought)! Most of the campus is research fields (30,000ha), covered by the watchful eye of a 5 or 6 story water/guard tower. In addition to crop fields, a small international neighborhood (20 houses), a larger Indian neighborhood (45 houses) and 5 apartment buildings populate the campus. A covered walkway connects a further eight research labs, 2 auditoriums, and a 4 story cavernous exhibition hall, where local Indians are taught agricultural techniques (eg. growing millet underneath the trees of an orchard).
ICRISAT stands for International Crops Research Institute for the Semi-Arid Tropics
IWMI is part of an international U.N. consulting group, which has offices in Sri Lanka, Ghana, Thailand, Nigeria, and India. Except for the India and Sri Lanka offices, there has been vast shifts in location of offices in the past few years. India, however, remains cheap enough that this location has grown. Here at ICRISAT, IWMI is a standoffish partner. While IWMI does coordinate with ICRISAT, and rents a building, IWMI is over 50% foreign nationals, as where ICRISAT is about 10%.
IWMI stands for International Water Management Institute
Also on campus there is a clubhouse with a minimal exercise room consisting of a pulley weight system, a treadmill, and an exercise bike. They also have table tennis. I joined $5 for the summer. For Indians it is $3 for the year. This also gives access to the pool, which is rather crucial. The temperature gets up to 100ºF most days. Three of the ten or so foreigners, who I have met, have had to go to the hospital for heat stroke/dehydration.
The pool is also the only place on campus that serves Kingfisher.
Most of the younger people living on campus, PhD researchers and post-docs, regularly eat in the canteen. Some of the professionals hire cooks to come in and they avoid the cafeteria. The canteen has limited hours, but also acts as a grocery store, for those who don't want to take bus (Rs7) or auto (Rs7 if you catch one with someone it it-Rs25 on your own) to town.
I enjoy the food at the canteen, but then I would. I was recognized by a South Indian as regularly choosing the spiciest food there. The food has some interesting characteristics, lots of rice or flatbreads (Chapathi, Roti, Paratha) and at lunch always some kind of biryani. In addition a soup, chicken or lamb curry, vegetarian curry, and fruit juice (mango, orange, pineapple) are each available at lunch and dinner. Dinner usually has a western dish (e.g. fish and chips, vegetarian cordon bleu).
Breakfast has papaya, hardboiled eggs, croissants, spicy chickpea sauces w/flatbreads, omelettes by request, and corn flakes. Milk is served warm here. Although refrigerated it is reheated and released through a spigot. The cream has a tendency to jam the spigot, causing hot sprays of milk to lash out at the unweary breakfaster. To remedy this, I have purchased a liter bag of milk and keep it cool in the dorms in a shared (8 person) fridge.
There are no green vegetables. A salad plate (Rs. 8) contains 2-3 slices of onion, 2 slices of tomato, and 2 slices of cucumber (green removed). At some point I will have to go to a western restaurant with a clean salad.
Coffee and Tea (Rs.4) are available and drunk with every meal. I am strange in that I have neither. Sodas are available, and a German here has a propensity for mixing fanta and cola to make spritzi or 7up and kingfisher to make radler.
ICRISAT stands for International Crops Research Institute for the Semi-Arid Tropics
IWMI is part of an international U.N. consulting group, which has offices in Sri Lanka, Ghana, Thailand, Nigeria, and India. Except for the India and Sri Lanka offices, there has been vast shifts in location of offices in the past few years. India, however, remains cheap enough that this location has grown. Here at ICRISAT, IWMI is a standoffish partner. While IWMI does coordinate with ICRISAT, and rents a building, IWMI is over 50% foreign nationals, as where ICRISAT is about 10%.
IWMI stands for International Water Management Institute
Also on campus there is a clubhouse with a minimal exercise room consisting of a pulley weight system, a treadmill, and an exercise bike. They also have table tennis. I joined $5 for the summer. For Indians it is $3 for the year. This also gives access to the pool, which is rather crucial. The temperature gets up to 100ºF most days. Three of the ten or so foreigners, who I have met, have had to go to the hospital for heat stroke/dehydration.
The pool is also the only place on campus that serves Kingfisher.
Most of the younger people living on campus, PhD researchers and post-docs, regularly eat in the canteen. Some of the professionals hire cooks to come in and they avoid the cafeteria. The canteen has limited hours, but also acts as a grocery store, for those who don't want to take bus (Rs7) or auto (Rs7 if you catch one with someone it it-Rs25 on your own) to town.
I enjoy the food at the canteen, but then I would. I was recognized by a South Indian as regularly choosing the spiciest food there. The food has some interesting characteristics, lots of rice or flatbreads (Chapathi, Roti, Paratha) and at lunch always some kind of biryani. In addition a soup, chicken or lamb curry, vegetarian curry, and fruit juice (mango, orange, pineapple) are each available at lunch and dinner. Dinner usually has a western dish (e.g. fish and chips, vegetarian cordon bleu).
Breakfast has papaya, hardboiled eggs, croissants, spicy chickpea sauces w/flatbreads, omelettes by request, and corn flakes. Milk is served warm here. Although refrigerated it is reheated and released through a spigot. The cream has a tendency to jam the spigot, causing hot sprays of milk to lash out at the unweary breakfaster. To remedy this, I have purchased a liter bag of milk and keep it cool in the dorms in a shared (8 person) fridge.
There are no green vegetables. A salad plate (Rs. 8) contains 2-3 slices of onion, 2 slices of tomato, and 2 slices of cucumber (green removed). At some point I will have to go to a western restaurant with a clean salad.
Coffee and Tea (Rs.4) are available and drunk with every meal. I am strange in that I have neither. Sodas are available, and a German here has a propensity for mixing fanta and cola to make spritzi or 7up and kingfisher to make radler.
Thursday, May 25, 2006
Hyderabad for a bit - India 4
I parted ways with Ashish at 6:30am to wander Hyderabad in the early morning. While I should have had all the contact info for work written down, I foolishly expected things to go according to plan. I wandered past Ek Minar Mosque (Greg's translation: One Minaret) and found that rather than frequent taxi's soliciting, I had several people including an old man on foot encouraging me to go to whatever Hotel I was near (for their commission of course). I briefly considered spending $6 to get a hotel and drop off my baggage, but I resolutely decided that I could wait until 9 or 10 when I estimated that the internet cafe's would open.
Consequently, I wandered down neighborhood passages bedecked in backpack and bag, unexpected around every corner I turned. As I wandered past a row of milk cattle, two guys on a bike warned me I was walking to a dead end. I decided to walk it anyway, and was rewarded to see a clean part of town, not trashed because there were not enough people to trash it. Similarly, I stumbled into a open play area next to the local police station. One girl was rollerskating in lazy circles on the blacktop; she only had one rollerskate.
Keeping the streets clean are mostly women and some men, sweeping dirt and refuse into piles, preferably not in front of their shop/house/place on street. The area only remains clean until a couple of vehicles drive by, carrying a pile of dust with them. I can see why female empowerment can drastically affect impoverished areas by preventing futile work.
By the time 9 and 10 am rolled around, none of the I-net cafes had opened up. I decided to take matters into my own hands, but was quickly approached by young hipster who told me I should pay no more than Rs.20 to get to the British Library. Subsequently, no autorickshaw(auto) driver knew of this place, could understand my map, or knew anywhere near there. It took a group of five boys to tell the auto-wallah where I wanted to go.
I was dropped off at the local tourism bureau near the library, so I stepped into the bureau and inquired about internet. They sent me across the street to the state government headquarters. The guards there attempted 3x to persuade me to go back across the street to the tourism bureau. Once through, I walked to the state tourism office, where I was told to wait so I could use an Asst Director's computer to check email. Once he returned, a flunky was made to give me his computer, where I found my boss at ICRISAT's number. The govy then dialed my boss, and ordered me an auto for 40km at a price I could never get: Rs. 200.
I was told to wait 1 hour and was given every English tourism pamphlet in the state. Armed with my literature I was ushered to the auto and set on my way with a driver who did not know where our destination was. We stopped twice and picked up a hitchiker in order to find our way. Once on the UN campus, the driver then tried to scam me for another Rs. 50, which was enough (>$1) that I was alerted to his scam and paid only the agreed upon $4.50.
ICRISAT fed me lunch ($.85), settled me into an airconditioned furnished room with netted
veranda ($68/month), and enrolled me in the campus fitness club ($5 for the summer). While my alternative plan to write a book and see the islands by working as a dance partner/evening entertainment on a cruise ship remains, there would be far less distraction moving to ICRISAT campus in India. Although, I suspect either way I would have to do some work in order to have the cheap berth. Fortunately, today is Saturday, so I have time to relax.
Consequently, I wandered down neighborhood passages bedecked in backpack and bag, unexpected around every corner I turned. As I wandered past a row of milk cattle, two guys on a bike warned me I was walking to a dead end. I decided to walk it anyway, and was rewarded to see a clean part of town, not trashed because there were not enough people to trash it. Similarly, I stumbled into a open play area next to the local police station. One girl was rollerskating in lazy circles on the blacktop; she only had one rollerskate.
Keeping the streets clean are mostly women and some men, sweeping dirt and refuse into piles, preferably not in front of their shop/house/place on street. The area only remains clean until a couple of vehicles drive by, carrying a pile of dust with them. I can see why female empowerment can drastically affect impoverished areas by preventing futile work.
By the time 9 and 10 am rolled around, none of the I-net cafes had opened up. I decided to take matters into my own hands, but was quickly approached by young hipster who told me I should pay no more than Rs.20 to get to the British Library. Subsequently, no autorickshaw(auto) driver knew of this place, could understand my map, or knew anywhere near there. It took a group of five boys to tell the auto-wallah where I wanted to go.
I was dropped off at the local tourism bureau near the library, so I stepped into the bureau and inquired about internet. They sent me across the street to the state government headquarters. The guards there attempted 3x to persuade me to go back across the street to the tourism bureau. Once through, I walked to the state tourism office, where I was told to wait so I could use an Asst Director's computer to check email. Once he returned, a flunky was made to give me his computer, where I found my boss at ICRISAT's number. The govy then dialed my boss, and ordered me an auto for 40km at a price I could never get: Rs. 200.
I was told to wait 1 hour and was given every English tourism pamphlet in the state. Armed with my literature I was ushered to the auto and set on my way with a driver who did not know where our destination was. We stopped twice and picked up a hitchiker in order to find our way. Once on the UN campus, the driver then tried to scam me for another Rs. 50, which was enough (>$1) that I was alerted to his scam and paid only the agreed upon $4.50.
ICRISAT fed me lunch ($.85), settled me into an airconditioned furnished room with netted
veranda ($68/month), and enrolled me in the campus fitness club ($5 for the summer). While my alternative plan to write a book and see the islands by working as a dance partner/evening entertainment on a cruise ship remains, there would be far less distraction moving to ICRISAT campus in India. Although, I suspect either way I would have to do some work in order to have the cheap berth. Fortunately, today is Saturday, so I have time to relax.
Last Train to Hyderabad - India 3
The next day I took the last, and only, train to Hyderabad from Victoria Station. For $27 I had an overnight 2nd class AC bunk, in a compartment shared with a navy officer and his wife (posted to the command post in Hyderabad) and a tech worker Ashish. For the most part the accommodations were acceptable, similar to overnight trains in Europe, only having salespeople hawking their wares at regularly intervals.
In addition to the standard lunch and dinner offers, there was a tea purveyor (mostly sugar and milk), a soup salesman (Dixie cup full of spiced tomato soup), a water salesman, a softdrink guy and a candy vendor (mostly varieties of nut brittles). Furthermore, a magazine salesmen, a book salesmen, and two kids with children's books also came through. After the first two hours of 10 minute solicitations, we closed the curtains to our cabin. This, surprisingly, stopped all solicitation. I had come to believe that Indians were more persistent.
Ashish, 23, was happy to talk with me in English. Among other things, he indicated that most people working in Mumbai would prefer to work in another city. This is due to the overcrowding of the Mumbai area. The geography is very similar to San Francisco, only it lacks bay bridges. Ashish was leaving Mumbai for a couple of months to work on the far side of Hyderabad in a coastal beach/port town.
Because much of India's growth is through knowledge service, there isn't much need to concentrate people in Mumbai. Aside from Mumbai's high concentration of intellectuals, there is little to recommend working there. Mumbai has no more technology than most other cities, so hopefully the lower cost will fuel growth in other cities. Although, even slower growth won't help Mumbai's overcrowding.
Ashish indicated a few other things to me. Much of his generation enjoyed American news: NYTimes and Washington Post. Due to high competition the typical India works 6 days a week (Ashish worked 7, although not by choice). Due to India's overpopulation students commonly work 12 hour days. Ouch.
In addition to the standard lunch and dinner offers, there was a tea purveyor (mostly sugar and milk), a soup salesman (Dixie cup full of spiced tomato soup), a water salesman, a softdrink guy and a candy vendor (mostly varieties of nut brittles). Furthermore, a magazine salesmen, a book salesmen, and two kids with children's books also came through. After the first two hours of 10 minute solicitations, we closed the curtains to our cabin. This, surprisingly, stopped all solicitation. I had come to believe that Indians were more persistent.
Ashish, 23, was happy to talk with me in English. Among other things, he indicated that most people working in Mumbai would prefer to work in another city. This is due to the overcrowding of the Mumbai area. The geography is very similar to San Francisco, only it lacks bay bridges. Ashish was leaving Mumbai for a couple of months to work on the far side of Hyderabad in a coastal beach/port town.
Because much of India's growth is through knowledge service, there isn't much need to concentrate people in Mumbai. Aside from Mumbai's high concentration of intellectuals, there is little to recommend working there. Mumbai has no more technology than most other cities, so hopefully the lower cost will fuel growth in other cities. Although, even slower growth won't help Mumbai's overcrowding.
Ashish indicated a few other things to me. Much of his generation enjoyed American news: NYTimes and Washington Post. Due to high competition the typical India works 6 days a week (Ashish worked 7, although not by choice). Due to India's overpopulation students commonly work 12 hour days. Ouch.
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Mumbai Wandering - India 2
As I continued through Mumbai, I came directly to a cricket stadium. There was a team practicing there. And then I came to another field with a cricket team practicing. A short walk later, I saw another cricket team practicing. Around the corner from that was a 4th cricket team practicing. I get the feeling that Indians enjoy cricket.
The last cricket team was practicing at the edge of a construction site. Like most of Asia, the construction site was braced through many wooden poles. What was unusual about this urban construction site was the lack of both netting and pigeons. The poles were completely bare of birds.
All the pigeons covered one small fenced in area nearby. There was barely enough space between the birds to see what the birds were walking on. This little space was completely filled with birdseed, perhaps a couple inches thick. While this feeder might not be for construction, it prevented the birds from resting there.
In addition to Cricket teams, Mumbai has a beach. It is a city beach in a bay, so one would expect that only the poor would go in the dirty water. Yet again Bombay had a surprise: there were Kite Surfers renting boards for $120/hour. In addition, a few wave runners were zipping around. On the other end of the beach, a couple families, who apparently lived on the beach, were cooking dinner and fixing wooden boats. At the end of the beach the edge of the roadway was reinforced with concrete polyhedrons reminiscent of water mines.
For my evening entertainment, I decided to make a pilgrimage. Haji Ali's tomb is across a causeway which is covered in water at high tide. Yet during low tide, when I crossed, it was covered in both merchants and beggers. While I later saw a beggar drag himself, it appeared as though many were too malformed in arms and legs to move. Most had at least one appendage withered useless. I am told that many religious structures have such beggers outside.
The polished marble entrance to the tomb was slimy, although not from kissing, but still slippery under the feet. While, some people were there simply to watch the beautiful sunset from the western edge of the city, the two Rajasthani salesmen and I were there to look at the tomb. The unremarkable marble dome outside was covered in discoball mirror pieces on the inside. The tomb was brightly lit and draped in prayer cloths. Not bad for an Islamic sage.
On my way back from the tomb I had my first, "I lived in America, so give me some money interaction." John was more than happy to tell me about his time as a cab driver before asking me for 2x what I had paid for dinner. I rebuffed him, but it has encouraged me to tell people I am British (if they look harmless) or German (if I don't want to talk/can't understand them). So far no similar person has asked for money.
Later that evening I purchased some light reading: the Mahabharata (1700pg Indian epic)
The last cricket team was practicing at the edge of a construction site. Like most of Asia, the construction site was braced through many wooden poles. What was unusual about this urban construction site was the lack of both netting and pigeons. The poles were completely bare of birds.
All the pigeons covered one small fenced in area nearby. There was barely enough space between the birds to see what the birds were walking on. This little space was completely filled with birdseed, perhaps a couple inches thick. While this feeder might not be for construction, it prevented the birds from resting there.
In addition to Cricket teams, Mumbai has a beach. It is a city beach in a bay, so one would expect that only the poor would go in the dirty water. Yet again Bombay had a surprise: there were Kite Surfers renting boards for $120/hour. In addition, a few wave runners were zipping around. On the other end of the beach, a couple families, who apparently lived on the beach, were cooking dinner and fixing wooden boats. At the end of the beach the edge of the roadway was reinforced with concrete polyhedrons reminiscent of water mines.
For my evening entertainment, I decided to make a pilgrimage. Haji Ali's tomb is across a causeway which is covered in water at high tide. Yet during low tide, when I crossed, it was covered in both merchants and beggers. While I later saw a beggar drag himself, it appeared as though many were too malformed in arms and legs to move. Most had at least one appendage withered useless. I am told that many religious structures have such beggers outside.
The polished marble entrance to the tomb was slimy, although not from kissing, but still slippery under the feet. While, some people were there simply to watch the beautiful sunset from the western edge of the city, the two Rajasthani salesmen and I were there to look at the tomb. The unremarkable marble dome outside was covered in discoball mirror pieces on the inside. The tomb was brightly lit and draped in prayer cloths. Not bad for an Islamic sage.
On my way back from the tomb I had my first, "I lived in America, so give me some money interaction." John was more than happy to tell me about his time as a cab driver before asking me for 2x what I had paid for dinner. I rebuffed him, but it has encouraged me to tell people I am British (if they look harmless) or German (if I don't want to talk/can't understand them). So far no similar person has asked for money.
Later that evening I purchased some light reading: the Mahabharata (1700pg Indian epic)
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
Bombay - India 1
Clearing the airport and customs was a snap. Finding an ATM, no problem. Trying to get Rupees from an empty ATM: Problem. There is a bank across the street from the airport (no money exchange person working) and a travelex back on the other side of security (who had given directions to the ATM). So there I was in India, without a Rupee to my name.
Thankfully, the Westerner with whom I had chatted, had a car waiting to take her to the Hotel, and the person whose name was on the card the driver was holding hadn't shown up. So I spent the first night shacked at the Leela, which casually accepted my American credit card, fed me a buffet breakfast, portered my luggage, gave me all manner of toiletries (which I hadn't packed) and even started me off with business contacts. I love 5 star hotels.
John Greyman, South African, Jewish, Steel Purveyor and I had breakfast together. While I didn't receive a firm offer of employment on the spot, I was encouraged to meet him for dinner. This put me in a dilemma, particularly because the breakfast buffet included South Indian, North Indian, Bacon, Roast Beef, and all manner of conceivable breakfast. I had a feeling that Muslim/Hindu India might be a bit short on the Bacon and Beef. However, I had to throw caution to the wind, and decided to spend the day running around Bombay.
So I passed through 30 minutes of slums and 10 minutes of middle class on my way into the city. The slums, however, did have several places selling phone services and/or faxes and copying. I had to wonder what people would fax or copy anything in the dirt poor (dirt rich) slums.
After purchasing a train ticket to Hyderabad using hard currency on the tourist quota (1 person line rather than taking a number for one of 40 tellers), I set off through the city.
Many people say the crowds or the poverty are what first strikes them in India. For me it was the Dollar Store variety in the stands lining every walkway. Not only were the stores selling everything, but people with a cart setup next to a pillar sold everything as well. Fortunately for me, my hotel covered everything I needed, so I simply swept past and decided to wander West.
Thats when the poverty hit me. Its no problem to avoid kids begging or older people asking for money, but when they grab your arm and walk with you continually asking, well, I had to give the poor kid my scary face, the kind when you were little and your parents were mad at you. Instantly, the kid released my arm, looked back once, and went away.
Thankfully, the Westerner with whom I had chatted, had a car waiting to take her to the Hotel, and the person whose name was on the card the driver was holding hadn't shown up. So I spent the first night shacked at the Leela, which casually accepted my American credit card, fed me a buffet breakfast, portered my luggage, gave me all manner of toiletries (which I hadn't packed) and even started me off with business contacts. I love 5 star hotels.
John Greyman, South African, Jewish, Steel Purveyor and I had breakfast together. While I didn't receive a firm offer of employment on the spot, I was encouraged to meet him for dinner. This put me in a dilemma, particularly because the breakfast buffet included South Indian, North Indian, Bacon, Roast Beef, and all manner of conceivable breakfast. I had a feeling that Muslim/Hindu India might be a bit short on the Bacon and Beef. However, I had to throw caution to the wind, and decided to spend the day running around Bombay.
So I passed through 30 minutes of slums and 10 minutes of middle class on my way into the city. The slums, however, did have several places selling phone services and/or faxes and copying. I had to wonder what people would fax or copy anything in the dirt poor (dirt rich) slums.
After purchasing a train ticket to Hyderabad using hard currency on the tourist quota (1 person line rather than taking a number for one of 40 tellers), I set off through the city.
Many people say the crowds or the poverty are what first strikes them in India. For me it was the Dollar Store variety in the stands lining every walkway. Not only were the stores selling everything, but people with a cart setup next to a pillar sold everything as well. Fortunately for me, my hotel covered everything I needed, so I simply swept past and decided to wander West.
Thats when the poverty hit me. Its no problem to avoid kids begging or older people asking for money, but when they grab your arm and walk with you continually asking, well, I had to give the poor kid my scary face, the kind when you were little and your parents were mad at you. Instantly, the kid released my arm, looked back once, and went away.
Flights, Hong Kong, Singapore - Pre India 2
Flying Singapore Air Rocks. While all international flights I have been on give good treatment, with slippers/blanket/pillow, Singapore Air does a nice job with the food selection. I had seafood including shrimp and scallops for 2/3 meals.
The Hong Kong layover was only noteworthy because I enjoyed the Singapore Air food so much that I did not stop to buy a meal.
Upon being turned loose on the city of Singapore I attempted to share a taxi into the city with a greybeard wearing a t-shirt with cyrillic slogans. To my suprise, not only did he agree to share a cab, he told me he would drop me off wherever I wanted in the city, because his office/apartment was on the other side of Singapore. After a bit of talk I found 1) he was German 2) he traveled 300 days a year 3) for a civil engineering firm 4) had flats in 4 different cities and 5) was a hasher.
Consequently, he dropped me off in front of an expat bar (The Sportsmen), home to hashers, including the bartender, "Handjob", who put me in touch with "Virginia Slim(e)". After finding there was a hash that evening and drinking two pints of Kilkenny with a Scottish Kayaker retired to China (its cheap), I set off to see Singapore before the hash.
I made it as far as Chinatown, where I found a mosque and a temple nearly on top of each other. These were not my goal. Nor was I going to the beach, as a muslim IT worker recommended ("Singapore is a boring city"). No, I was headed to the Imperial Herbal Restaurant, Metropole Hotel - 3rd Floor, 41 Seah St.
Why, you may ask was I headed to IHR? Was I hungary? Did I want to taste Chinese food before sampling the rumored "best chinese food ever" in India? All this and more! IHR is known for diagnosing your ailments and cooking a scrumptious herbal meal to heal you.
Armed with an address and a building I set off through Chinatown for IHR. After about 20 minutes of walking, I found it. I went up to the entrance, and attempted to open the door, only to find it locked ... in the middle of the day. Looking around, I found they were closed from ~2-5. Sighing an ailment-full sigh, I realized that I had to make a choice between the restaurant and the hash.
An hour later I had stowed my travel bag in someone's trunk and was running on a hash run through the jungle in my sandals. The jungle hash was short (3km), but there was plenty of beer (Tiger - Singapore Beer) at the end. The hashers were constrained due to the lack of available land and general avoidance of shenanigans in Singapore. However, the run was good, and the beer flowing, and at the end showed up a Virginia Tech alumnus, Virginia Slim.
Slim brought the only thing he had left from his Bleaksburg days, a pair of Hokie Shotglasses. 2 Shots of Johnny Walker Black later, the hash's $8 seven course Chinese dinner was wonderful. Slim realized that just a couple of shots and dinner was not enough for the Singapore Hokie reunion of the decade (how many can there be?).
So we went to a bar, where Slim, his last 25 years in Asia, spoke local languages with other patrons. The patrons encouraged him to show me the more interesting side of Singapore. A couple of shots of Slime's reserve at the bar and we left for the Orchard Towers.
Orchard Towers is the nightlife of Singapore. The first bar we went into had a band that was Singapore's answer to Led Zeppelin and around since the 70's. They were playing Steve Miller Band and Styx covers while we were there. Across the street, we went to a basement place with a screaming Asian band, where Slime was greeted like an old friend. The madam was more than friendly and recommended some lovely Indonesian girls. However, the S$200 price tag was a bit rich for my blood, so we continued on to the other meat markets in the building.
Never before had I seen a meat market quite like this. Then again, I hadn't been around so many working women in a club, rather than a red-light district. 3 clubs, 3 deafening bands, and way too many approachable Asian girls later, I took a cab to the airport, with a souvenir Virginia Tech shotglass.
The Hong Kong layover was only noteworthy because I enjoyed the Singapore Air food so much that I did not stop to buy a meal.
Upon being turned loose on the city of Singapore I attempted to share a taxi into the city with a greybeard wearing a t-shirt with cyrillic slogans. To my suprise, not only did he agree to share a cab, he told me he would drop me off wherever I wanted in the city, because his office/apartment was on the other side of Singapore. After a bit of talk I found 1) he was German 2) he traveled 300 days a year 3) for a civil engineering firm 4) had flats in 4 different cities and 5) was a hasher.
Consequently, he dropped me off in front of an expat bar (The Sportsmen), home to hashers, including the bartender, "Handjob", who put me in touch with "Virginia Slim(e)". After finding there was a hash that evening and drinking two pints of Kilkenny with a Scottish Kayaker retired to China (its cheap), I set off to see Singapore before the hash.
I made it as far as Chinatown, where I found a mosque and a temple nearly on top of each other. These were not my goal. Nor was I going to the beach, as a muslim IT worker recommended ("Singapore is a boring city"). No, I was headed to the Imperial Herbal Restaurant, Metropole Hotel - 3rd Floor, 41 Seah St.
Why, you may ask was I headed to IHR? Was I hungary? Did I want to taste Chinese food before sampling the rumored "best chinese food ever" in India? All this and more! IHR is known for diagnosing your ailments and cooking a scrumptious herbal meal to heal you.
Armed with an address and a building I set off through Chinatown for IHR. After about 20 minutes of walking, I found it. I went up to the entrance, and attempted to open the door, only to find it locked ... in the middle of the day. Looking around, I found they were closed from ~2-5. Sighing an ailment-full sigh, I realized that I had to make a choice between the restaurant and the hash.
An hour later I had stowed my travel bag in someone's trunk and was running on a hash run through the jungle in my sandals. The jungle hash was short (3km), but there was plenty of beer (Tiger - Singapore Beer) at the end. The hashers were constrained due to the lack of available land and general avoidance of shenanigans in Singapore. However, the run was good, and the beer flowing, and at the end showed up a Virginia Tech alumnus, Virginia Slim.
Slim brought the only thing he had left from his Bleaksburg days, a pair of Hokie Shotglasses. 2 Shots of Johnny Walker Black later, the hash's $8 seven course Chinese dinner was wonderful. Slim realized that just a couple of shots and dinner was not enough for the Singapore Hokie reunion of the decade (how many can there be?).
So we went to a bar, where Slim, his last 25 years in Asia, spoke local languages with other patrons. The patrons encouraged him to show me the more interesting side of Singapore. A couple of shots of Slime's reserve at the bar and we left for the Orchard Towers.
Orchard Towers is the nightlife of Singapore. The first bar we went into had a band that was Singapore's answer to Led Zeppelin and around since the 70's. They were playing Steve Miller Band and Styx covers while we were there. Across the street, we went to a basement place with a screaming Asian band, where Slime was greeted like an old friend. The madam was more than friendly and recommended some lovely Indonesian girls. However, the S$200 price tag was a bit rich for my blood, so we continued on to the other meat markets in the building.
Never before had I seen a meat market quite like this. Then again, I hadn't been around so many working women in a club, rather than a red-light district. 3 clubs, 3 deafening bands, and way too many approachable Asian girls later, I took a cab to the airport, with a souvenir Virginia Tech shotglass.
SFO - Pre India 1
While waiting at PDX, despite the free Internet in the airport, I picked up a recommended book of short stories for my trip. I found it somewhat fitting that the introduction said that all the life stories one needs, one can get at home, here, in America.
My fortune cookie from lunch: A sudden change in plans will have fortuitous results.
I still decide to go to India, and board my flight to transit stop 1: California.
In San Francisco I meet an old friend from 4th grade, Andrew Winerman, and head to Golden Gate Park. As fits SF in the summer, the fog rolls in and the Ultimate Frisbee teams are out in force: about 20 teams man the fields. After working up a Healthy Appetite™, Andrew and I head to another bastian of SF: New Age cuisine.
The gimmicks are twofold, not only is everything vegetarian (maybe vegan) but all the grains are sprouted. The second gimmick is the way one orders: meals are named things like "I am Divine" or "I am Satisfied". When the food comes, the repeats back "You are Divine" or "You are Satisfied". Missing from the menu was "I am Hungry" so I attempted to be Satisfied instead. [Insert Rolling Stones joke here]. In addition to gimmickee food, the restaurant had prepay cards, which gave around a 1/6 discount. My buddy had over $1k prepaid. Nice.
My fortune cookie from lunch: A sudden change in plans will have fortuitous results.
I still decide to go to India, and board my flight to transit stop 1: California.
In San Francisco I meet an old friend from 4th grade, Andrew Winerman, and head to Golden Gate Park. As fits SF in the summer, the fog rolls in and the Ultimate Frisbee teams are out in force: about 20 teams man the fields. After working up a Healthy Appetite™, Andrew and I head to another bastian of SF: New Age cuisine.
The gimmicks are twofold, not only is everything vegetarian (maybe vegan) but all the grains are sprouted. The second gimmick is the way one orders: meals are named things like "I am Divine" or "I am Satisfied". When the food comes, the repeats back "You are Divine" or "You are Satisfied". Missing from the menu was "I am Hungry" so I attempted to be Satisfied instead. [Insert Rolling Stones joke here]. In addition to gimmickee food, the restaurant had prepay cards, which gave around a 1/6 discount. My buddy had over $1k prepaid. Nice.
India Trip
Greetings to Everyone reading this,
I haven't played with this blog much at all, but I will be giving it a shot for the duration of this India trip. I expect to have posts every couple of days until early August, when I will leave my office to travel around India exclusively.
Currently, I am going to try to catch up from the last week when I left Portland, OR. As I have time over the next week or two I expect to embellish my posts a bit with photographs (when developed & scanned) and with links to information online. I plan on putting links within my posts so that one can skip to preferred topics, but this may take me a few days, as I have plenty of work cut-out for my time here at IWMI, ICRISAT.
Cheers,
Greg
I haven't played with this blog much at all, but I will be giving it a shot for the duration of this India trip. I expect to have posts every couple of days until early August, when I will leave my office to travel around India exclusively.
Currently, I am going to try to catch up from the last week when I left Portland, OR. As I have time over the next week or two I expect to embellish my posts a bit with photographs (when developed & scanned) and with links to information online. I plan on putting links within my posts so that one can skip to preferred topics, but this may take me a few days, as I have plenty of work cut-out for my time here at IWMI, ICRISAT.
Cheers,
Greg
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