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.
Monday, July 31, 2006
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]
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