My first day at the hospital was... uneventful as far as accomplishing any real work is concerned. I spent most of the day with Biku, Govinda's eldest son. We have decided that we can be of advantage to each other. Every day we will spend any hour teaching eachother our native languages. He will teach me Oriya, and I will teach him how to butcher the english language.
I also spent today going around saying hello to all the people here. I have a great many people here who I consider good friends. It is odd, but even though most of them speak not a word of english, and I speak only a few words of Oriya, we have cultivated a relationship.
There is Chandu. He runs the pharmacy that is next to the hospital. He speak english very well, and is adept at frisbee. these two things are easy ways to win my friendship it turns out. He is 27 and single and likes it that way. He is a devout Hindu, and does his Puja every day. His real name is Rohit, and he is from a village about 4 kilometers away. He is obsessed with Cricket and in school he was an excellent bowler. I know all this because he can tell me. Most of the other people who I know here, I am forced to extrapolate their stories from other people, or just plain guess as to their history.
That sickness I was suffering from turned out to be a sore throat, and I am recovering nicely due to some Ayurvedic losenges given to me by Chandu at the pharmacy. They taste awful, but do the trick. For that I am very thankful. They feel like sandpaper in your mouth, tast like old gym socks, and do not even feel soothing while they are in your mouth, but they make it easier to swallow.
I have settled into my room and I am waiting a day or so to start working. It is difficult to just jump into work in this village. People here want to take their time, and move at their own pace. If I immediately went to work trying to get them to help me accomplsh all that Michael has set out for me to do, I think they will stop thinking I understand their way of life. Which I don't. Here everything is done so slowly. I suppose it is the heat. Which by the way is HOT. I mean like 100 degrees in the shade. The humidity is through the roof. So I am now in the sauna portion of my time here in India.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Thank You For Flying Indian Airlines
Today I travelled.
Traveling is a wondergul way to meet interesting people, people you would never meet in your everyday life. People you would never have a desire to meet in your everyday life. The woman sitting next to me on the plane did not stop talking. Ever. She is a dancer it turns out, in a classic religious style called Odessi. She is coming from Delhi for a dance festival in Bhubhaneswar. That is all I will tell you of her, no reason for you to hear 2 hours worth of life story from me.
This is how people in India travel, I have found out. People make friends on trains, planes, and busses. A very differnt style of travel from what I am used to in the US. There people tend to keep to themselves more often than not. Things are different here.
After arriving in Bhubhaneswar I was collected by Govinda and Utkal. We had lunch at a local restaraunt. Even the restarautns here serve Tali. Tali is what most people here eat every meal of every day of their entire lives. Rice, Dahl, and some other vegetable. The other vegetable is more often than not potato, especially this time of year. Here in Orissa their diets are not governed by taste, instead it is governed by the season. Some seasons Gobi (cauliflower) is the "other" vegetable. However during the spring and summer months, it is almost always potato. I will probably eat enouth potatoes in the next few months to turn even this irishman's stomach from them for a short while.
After lunch we stopped to do some shopping. I needed to pick up some essentials that would not be available in the village. Soap, shampoo, mosquito cream, mosquito coil, toilet paper, and water were the items on my list. With them safely in my possession we started for Juanga.
A few kilometers outside of Bhubhaneswar we hit traffic. I am talking Holland Tunnel traffic. Cars stretched before us for kilometers ahead. I settled in for what was going to be a long trip. The heat of the air mixed with the hot exhaust from the cars and busses surrounding us, making breathing unpleasant. I turned to Govinda and Utkal wondering if they had any idea as to how far the traffic stretched out in front of us, or how long we would be held captive in the belly of the monstrous snake composed of cars, busses, and motorbikes. their guess was as good as mine, so I sat in my seat quietly and remembered what someone once told me.
"Why stand when you can sit? Why sit when you can lay down? Why lay down when you can sleep?"
So I tried to sleep. Did not succeed, but I tried.
After a few hours of traffic, and a few hours of dusty broken village roads, we arrived at my destination at last. The Michael A. Daube Charitable Trust and Hospital greeted me with it's dull fading yellow in the hot sunset. I was shown to my room, on the second floor above the main entrance of the hospital. The room I always stay in when I am here. I am finally to my home away from home.
Traveling is a wondergul way to meet interesting people, people you would never meet in your everyday life. People you would never have a desire to meet in your everyday life. The woman sitting next to me on the plane did not stop talking. Ever. She is a dancer it turns out, in a classic religious style called Odessi. She is coming from Delhi for a dance festival in Bhubhaneswar. That is all I will tell you of her, no reason for you to hear 2 hours worth of life story from me.
This is how people in India travel, I have found out. People make friends on trains, planes, and busses. A very differnt style of travel from what I am used to in the US. There people tend to keep to themselves more often than not. Things are different here.
After arriving in Bhubhaneswar I was collected by Govinda and Utkal. We had lunch at a local restaraunt. Even the restarautns here serve Tali. Tali is what most people here eat every meal of every day of their entire lives. Rice, Dahl, and some other vegetable. The other vegetable is more often than not potato, especially this time of year. Here in Orissa their diets are not governed by taste, instead it is governed by the season. Some seasons Gobi (cauliflower) is the "other" vegetable. However during the spring and summer months, it is almost always potato. I will probably eat enouth potatoes in the next few months to turn even this irishman's stomach from them for a short while.
After lunch we stopped to do some shopping. I needed to pick up some essentials that would not be available in the village. Soap, shampoo, mosquito cream, mosquito coil, toilet paper, and water were the items on my list. With them safely in my possession we started for Juanga.
A few kilometers outside of Bhubhaneswar we hit traffic. I am talking Holland Tunnel traffic. Cars stretched before us for kilometers ahead. I settled in for what was going to be a long trip. The heat of the air mixed with the hot exhaust from the cars and busses surrounding us, making breathing unpleasant. I turned to Govinda and Utkal wondering if they had any idea as to how far the traffic stretched out in front of us, or how long we would be held captive in the belly of the monstrous snake composed of cars, busses, and motorbikes. their guess was as good as mine, so I sat in my seat quietly and remembered what someone once told me.
"Why stand when you can sit? Why sit when you can lay down? Why lay down when you can sleep?"
So I tried to sleep. Did not succeed, but I tried.
After a few hours of traffic, and a few hours of dusty broken village roads, we arrived at my destination at last. The Michael A. Daube Charitable Trust and Hospital greeted me with it's dull fading yellow in the hot sunset. I was shown to my room, on the second floor above the main entrance of the hospital. The room I always stay in when I am here. I am finally to my home away from home.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Fire
So my Debit Card finally arrived this morning and I have booked a flight for tomorrow at noon. This would be great news, if I did not feel like I was coming down with something. Not a stomach thing either, this feels like aches, and dizziness.
Out of the frying pan into the fire I believe is the old expression. Well thankfully I am going to be staying and working at a hospital, so I won't have to travel far to see a doctor if it gets any worse than what it is right now.
My throat is sore too. Maybe it is just allergies? I will take something tonight to try to knock it out of my system.
Anyway, I am finally actually and really on my way! Govinda has taken to calling me, late and often, recently. He cannot wait to see me, and wants me to do many good works for him at the hospital. He is such an emotional person sometimes, that I just can't help but love him.
I will be getting a cellphone number down in Orissa. I will put the number in a post and for those of you who actually go to my blog to read it, it will be on the left hand side of the page. Be careful when calling me, if you do because phone charges from the US to India can be a bit expensive. Going to a corner store and purchasing one of those international calling cards is the best way to go about using a normal land line. Skype is my preferred method for making international calls. But it requires you having a microphone for your computer, and internet access.
Now begins the fun/hard part of my trip. I am comfortable enough in Orissa to go there and do what needs to be done, but am I capable enough to do it? Last few times I have accomplished some goals, and failed others. I do not expect this time to be any different. It will be a challenge. A challenge I look forward to!
Out of the frying pan into the fire I believe is the old expression. Well thankfully I am going to be staying and working at a hospital, so I won't have to travel far to see a doctor if it gets any worse than what it is right now.
My throat is sore too. Maybe it is just allergies? I will take something tonight to try to knock it out of my system.
Anyway, I am finally actually and really on my way! Govinda has taken to calling me, late and often, recently. He cannot wait to see me, and wants me to do many good works for him at the hospital. He is such an emotional person sometimes, that I just can't help but love him.
I will be getting a cellphone number down in Orissa. I will put the number in a post and for those of you who actually go to my blog to read it, it will be on the left hand side of the page. Be careful when calling me, if you do because phone charges from the US to India can be a bit expensive. Going to a corner store and purchasing one of those international calling cards is the best way to go about using a normal land line. Skype is my preferred method for making international calls. But it requires you having a microphone for your computer, and internet access.
Now begins the fun/hard part of my trip. I am comfortable enough in Orissa to go there and do what needs to be done, but am I capable enough to do it? Last few times I have accomplished some goals, and failed others. I do not expect this time to be any different. It will be a challenge. A challenge I look forward to!
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Subway
So Today I went to Connaught Place to pick up some more books. I am chewing through them due to an acute case of cabin fever. I have cabin fever in a city that covers approximately 90 square kilometers.
I walked the outer circle of CP today for something different, and to my surprise I found a Subway restaurant. I decided to give it a try as I had yet to have lunch and to tell you the truth I was oddly fascinated by the prospect of a Subway in India.
The differences were obvious from the start. There are 2 lines of people ordering sandwiches; One is labeled Veg. the Non Veg. I quickly stepped into the Non Veg. line because I was never one to pass up a chance to eat the flesh of a dead animal (Except veal and foi gras... a man needs to have moral standards after all). I decided on what I always get at Subway back home. An Italian B.M.T. For those who are uneducated in the ways of Subway lingo, B.M.T. is Big. Meaty. Tasty. One difference here in India however. The M. in B.M.T. has been replaced by Lamb Salami and Lamb Pepperoni. However after all my travels here I did not even blink at the difference. This is where the differences between American Subways and Indian Subways end.
The similarities are much more fun to point out. Just like in the US there is a Baskin Robbins attached or directly next to the Subway Restaurant. Just like in the US the Subway is staffed primarily by Indians. Just like in the US the sandwiches never live up to the expectations of anyone who has had a REAL Italian Sub.
I walked the outer circle of CP today for something different, and to my surprise I found a Subway restaurant. I decided to give it a try as I had yet to have lunch and to tell you the truth I was oddly fascinated by the prospect of a Subway in India.
The differences were obvious from the start. There are 2 lines of people ordering sandwiches; One is labeled Veg. the Non Veg. I quickly stepped into the Non Veg. line because I was never one to pass up a chance to eat the flesh of a dead animal (Except veal and foi gras... a man needs to have moral standards after all). I decided on what I always get at Subway back home. An Italian B.M.T. For those who are uneducated in the ways of Subway lingo, B.M.T. is Big. Meaty. Tasty. One difference here in India however. The M. in B.M.T. has been replaced by Lamb Salami and Lamb Pepperoni. However after all my travels here I did not even blink at the difference. This is where the differences between American Subways and Indian Subways end.
The similarities are much more fun to point out. Just like in the US there is a Baskin Robbins attached or directly next to the Subway Restaurant. Just like in the US the Subway is staffed primarily by Indians. Just like in the US the sandwiches never live up to the expectations of anyone who has had a REAL Italian Sub.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Guest
So Here I am, still in Delhi 2 weeks after I arrived, and 1 week after I thought I would be in Orissa. I fear I am abusing the hospitality of Shashi and Shammi, and I feel awful for that. One of my biggest pet peeves is being rude, and I find one of the most rude things anyone can do is abuse hospitality. I should be a week gone already. But Shashi and Shammi feel bad for me due to my stolen wallet, and they are truly good people.
Even though they tell me they do not mind, I can feel that I am disrupting their lives. I wish there was some way I could repay them for their kindness. I try to be helpful, but there is little to be helpful with. I try to stay out of their way as much as possible, but they each have busy lives to stay busy with, so I am not interfering with that at least. They go to work, and I either sit down to read a book, or head out to the streets for a walk. Someday I go to Connaught Place, some days I go somewhere else, others I just walk around the nieghborhood.
It is not a nice feeling, feeling as though you are unwillingly taking advantage of someone's kindness. Even if they do not feel I am taking advantage of them, I still feel like I am. I do not want to encroach on their lives a day longer than I must, and unfortunately it seems like I will remain their guest until Monday the earliest.
Even though they tell me they do not mind, I can feel that I am disrupting their lives. I wish there was some way I could repay them for their kindness. I try to be helpful, but there is little to be helpful with. I try to stay out of their way as much as possible, but they each have busy lives to stay busy with, so I am not interfering with that at least. They go to work, and I either sit down to read a book, or head out to the streets for a walk. Someday I go to Connaught Place, some days I go somewhere else, others I just walk around the nieghborhood.
It is not a nice feeling, feeling as though you are unwillingly taking advantage of someone's kindness. Even if they do not feel I am taking advantage of them, I still feel like I am. I do not want to encroach on their lives a day longer than I must, and unfortunately it seems like I will remain their guest until Monday the earliest.
Friday, March 13, 2009
I Go Walking, Close to Midnight, in the Moonlight
Every night Shammi and I go for a brisk walk around the neighborhood. He leads me through the twists and turns of Delhi's streets, and we talk. Every night the conversation is different, and always interesting. Some nights we tell jokes, some nights we talk politics, other nights sports. In all it is part of my day I greatly look forward to.
The streets at night are almost no different from the streets during the day. There are still plenty of people and plenty of cars and motorbikes. More often than not we pass a Hindi wedding. Except tonight. Tonight, there was not a single wedding happening. I asked Shammi about this and he said that today was a bad day for weddings.
I laughed and said it seemed that way. He then corrected himself. He said it was an inauspicious day for weddings.
Turns out Hindu culture is very, very superstitious. More so than I had thought. There are days of the year where not a single Hindu will get married. Simply because that day has been deemed inauspicious. Prime ministers will delay their inaugurations so that they take place on auspicious days. Government buildings have openings to the "4 directions." I am painting a very broad picture, but it is like feng shue to the extreme.
I want to finish with a joke Shammi told me. It is offensive... I think.
A man runs up to a Sikh and says "Hey!!! There is a house on fire!!!"
The Sikh shakes his head and replies, "Get the hell outta here, it is none of my business."
The man say "But it is YOUR house that is on fire!"
The Sikh replies, "Get the hell outta here, it is none of your business."
The streets at night are almost no different from the streets during the day. There are still plenty of people and plenty of cars and motorbikes. More often than not we pass a Hindi wedding. Except tonight. Tonight, there was not a single wedding happening. I asked Shammi about this and he said that today was a bad day for weddings.
I laughed and said it seemed that way. He then corrected himself. He said it was an inauspicious day for weddings.
Turns out Hindu culture is very, very superstitious. More so than I had thought. There are days of the year where not a single Hindu will get married. Simply because that day has been deemed inauspicious. Prime ministers will delay their inaugurations so that they take place on auspicious days. Government buildings have openings to the "4 directions." I am painting a very broad picture, but it is like feng shue to the extreme.
I want to finish with a joke Shammi told me. It is offensive... I think.
A man runs up to a Sikh and says "Hey!!! There is a house on fire!!!"
The Sikh shakes his head and replies, "Get the hell outta here, it is none of my business."
The man say "But it is YOUR house that is on fire!"
The Sikh replies, "Get the hell outta here, it is none of your business."
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Holi-Day and Rememberances of the Water Wars
Today was an Indian celebration of the arrival of spring. The festival is called Holi. And it is a festival of colors. And boy are there colors.
Families gather together and throw small packets of what they simply call "color" on each other. This color, from what I can tell, is just dehydrated dyes and pigments. They smear it all over their siblings, parents, cousins, and distant relatives faces. Their apparent joy is fun to watch, but more fun to participate in.
Yup I got colored today. Pictures will be posted. A good time was had by all.
The other element of Holi is water. Packs of children armed with water guns and water balloons roam the streets. They stalk building to building like well trained combatants dousing all those in their path. Ambush points are set up for the unwary street walker, and balloons filled with water rain down from rooftops accompanied by the sound of children's laughter.
Personally I had 5 water balloons thrown at me. And none of them hit. Seriously? I am a LARGE target here in India. Not a one found it's mark. The balloons exploded behind and in front of me, but none of their aqua ballistics found their mark. I began to become disappointed. Did these children know nothing of leading their target? Biding their time till you were sure your strike would land true? A pity they did not receive the same training I had as a 5 year old boy on the streets of my grandmother's house.
It is a lifetime and a world away, but I remember the water wars as if it was only yesterday. It was soak or be soaked back then. And even if you did soak the other guy first, he would probably soak you anyway. They were tough times. I didn't know who to trust. Alliances were made and broken in instants when water was involved. The only thing you could hope for was being better or faster than the other kids. Water fights are hell.
Anyway. I had a wonderful time with Shashi and Shammi's family. Took some pictures, and I will post them soon.
Families gather together and throw small packets of what they simply call "color" on each other. This color, from what I can tell, is just dehydrated dyes and pigments. They smear it all over their siblings, parents, cousins, and distant relatives faces. Their apparent joy is fun to watch, but more fun to participate in.
Yup I got colored today. Pictures will be posted. A good time was had by all.
The other element of Holi is water. Packs of children armed with water guns and water balloons roam the streets. They stalk building to building like well trained combatants dousing all those in their path. Ambush points are set up for the unwary street walker, and balloons filled with water rain down from rooftops accompanied by the sound of children's laughter.
Personally I had 5 water balloons thrown at me. And none of them hit. Seriously? I am a LARGE target here in India. Not a one found it's mark. The balloons exploded behind and in front of me, but none of their aqua ballistics found their mark. I began to become disappointed. Did these children know nothing of leading their target? Biding their time till you were sure your strike would land true? A pity they did not receive the same training I had as a 5 year old boy on the streets of my grandmother's house.
It is a lifetime and a world away, but I remember the water wars as if it was only yesterday. It was soak or be soaked back then. And even if you did soak the other guy first, he would probably soak you anyway. They were tough times. I didn't know who to trust. Alliances were made and broken in instants when water was involved. The only thing you could hope for was being better or faster than the other kids. Water fights are hell.
Anyway. I had a wonderful time with Shashi and Shammi's family. Took some pictures, and I will post them soon.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Hard to Write, Because I am Reading
This post is hard to write.
Not because of any hardships I am suffering while traveling. Simply because nothing happened today. Me, Shashi, and Shammi stayed in all day watching TV, reading, and making idle chit chat.
I am currently reading 4 books simultaneously. I find it is the only way I know how to read at a pace where books will last a substantial time for me over here in India. I have hours a day where I am able to do just about whatever I want, and because i have none of the normal distractions of home, I spend those hours reading.
At every opportunity I put down the book to socialize with whomever and whatever I can, however over here there are just stretches of time when I am simply alone. Sometimes I write (mostly these posts), sometimes I play an old SNES game on my computer, sometimes I just sit and think, but mostly I read. Anything and everything I can get my hands on. Here is a list of the books I am currently reading:
The Hero With A Thousand Faces By Joseph Campbell
Le Mort de Arthur by Sir Thomas Malorey
The Wheel of Time By Robert Jordan
The Silmarillion Composited by Christopher Tolkien
The nice thing about bing over here is I have easy access to many other books, and I will keep you posted on what I am reading whenever something changes.
Not because of any hardships I am suffering while traveling. Simply because nothing happened today. Me, Shashi, and Shammi stayed in all day watching TV, reading, and making idle chit chat.
I am currently reading 4 books simultaneously. I find it is the only way I know how to read at a pace where books will last a substantial time for me over here in India. I have hours a day where I am able to do just about whatever I want, and because i have none of the normal distractions of home, I spend those hours reading.
At every opportunity I put down the book to socialize with whomever and whatever I can, however over here there are just stretches of time when I am simply alone. Sometimes I write (mostly these posts), sometimes I play an old SNES game on my computer, sometimes I just sit and think, but mostly I read. Anything and everything I can get my hands on. Here is a list of the books I am currently reading:
The Hero With A Thousand Faces By Joseph Campbell
Le Mort de Arthur by Sir Thomas Malorey
The Wheel of Time By Robert Jordan
The Silmarillion Composited by Christopher Tolkien
The nice thing about bing over here is I have easy access to many other books, and I will keep you posted on what I am reading whenever something changes.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Confidence
I have lost my confidence.
It is amazing how that can happen. One moment I was on the move, ready to attempt new challenges and solve new problems, the next moment my world stopped turning. It only stopped for a heartbeat, but it was long enough. I am different now.
Today I boarded the Metro heading for Connaught Place. The train ride felt different. My awareness had shifted from calm curiosity of my surroundings to vigilance. I felt as though I was guarding myself. Even as this was happening I was aware of it. I knew that the only thing that has changed in this world is me. The pickpockets had always been there, somewhere distant in my mind. They were always a threat lurking somewhere else. Today on the metro they were all around me. I hated it.
So I made a decision. I decided to control how I was going to change. I made the decision to not feel like a victim. I need my confidence. It is what allows me to travel and not feel overburdened. It helps me sleep in cheap motels with cheap fluorescent lights. It lets me hop into a taxi with a driver I do not know who speaks a language I do not know going to a place I have never been. I love my confidence.
So I am going to keep it. And I am going to make keeping it one of my daily decisions. I am going to wake up every day and remind myself to keep my cool, and remain confident until I don't have to remember it anymore. Soon it will just become a part of me. This incident will be a distant memory, just one more lesson I have learned while traveling. And as with everything else that happens to me, it is going to be one of my stories. Those stories I love to tell so much.
It is amazing how that can happen. One moment I was on the move, ready to attempt new challenges and solve new problems, the next moment my world stopped turning. It only stopped for a heartbeat, but it was long enough. I am different now.
Today I boarded the Metro heading for Connaught Place. The train ride felt different. My awareness had shifted from calm curiosity of my surroundings to vigilance. I felt as though I was guarding myself. Even as this was happening I was aware of it. I knew that the only thing that has changed in this world is me. The pickpockets had always been there, somewhere distant in my mind. They were always a threat lurking somewhere else. Today on the metro they were all around me. I hated it.
So I made a decision. I decided to control how I was going to change. I made the decision to not feel like a victim. I need my confidence. It is what allows me to travel and not feel overburdened. It helps me sleep in cheap motels with cheap fluorescent lights. It lets me hop into a taxi with a driver I do not know who speaks a language I do not know going to a place I have never been. I love my confidence.
So I am going to keep it. And I am going to make keeping it one of my daily decisions. I am going to wake up every day and remind myself to keep my cool, and remain confident until I don't have to remember it anymore. Soon it will just become a part of me. This incident will be a distant memory, just one more lesson I have learned while traveling. And as with everything else that happens to me, it is going to be one of my stories. Those stories I love to tell so much.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Today I Lost a Friend
My wallet was stolen today.
It was 2 PM local time and I was in Rajiv Chowk Metro Station underneath Connaught Place waiting to board the yellow line with Shammi. Shammi was taking me to see the "real Delhi" before I left for Orissa. The crowds were oppressive and people pressed in on us from every side. My wallet was foolishly in my back pocket, a mistake I have never made in the past while traveling.
We boarded the train and there was one of those automated announcements that they play all the time on the Delhi Metro...
"Pick-pocketers have been identified in the stations and on the trains, please be careful of your personal belongings."
I reach my hand back and give my pocket a half-hearted pat. It is empty. All of a sudden I am hit with feelings of panic and disbelief. My heart races and I check my other pockets. Did I not have it in my back pocket? Did I leave it at Shashi's house? When did I have it last?
I experience what can only be called a poor-choice-by-the-director-flashback. Standing on the metro platform only 5 minutes ago I had reached back and patted my wallet in the pocket.
Being brought back to the present I turn to Shammi and tell him the news. He asks what I had in the wallet, and what I think we should do. I take a mental inventory of my wallet:
2,000 Rupees
My Drivers License
Insurance Card
Photocopy of Passport
Barnes and Noble Membership card
3 credit cards
1 debit card
1 emergency $20 dollar bill hidden in one of the compartments
We get off at the next stop and find an internet cafe. I proceed to call my bank and credit card company and cancel all the cards. Turns out the person who stole my wallet had tried to buy in total $5,000 dollars worth of stuff with my cards. Thankfully none of my credit cards work over here without me calling to authorize them. He did however manage to wrangle $400 bucks from my debit card. All this happened within 20 minutes.
I loved that wallet. I have had it for 7 years. I have lost it 2 times, and both times it has come back to me. It was my friend, and a companion that has traveled the world with me. The worst part of all of this is I never realized how much I cared for that wallet until it was gone. I never told it how I felt, how much it meant to me. And now I don't think I will ever get the chance.
It was 2 PM local time and I was in Rajiv Chowk Metro Station underneath Connaught Place waiting to board the yellow line with Shammi. Shammi was taking me to see the "real Delhi" before I left for Orissa. The crowds were oppressive and people pressed in on us from every side. My wallet was foolishly in my back pocket, a mistake I have never made in the past while traveling.
We boarded the train and there was one of those automated announcements that they play all the time on the Delhi Metro...
"Pick-pocketers have been identified in the stations and on the trains, please be careful of your personal belongings."
I reach my hand back and give my pocket a half-hearted pat. It is empty. All of a sudden I am hit with feelings of panic and disbelief. My heart races and I check my other pockets. Did I not have it in my back pocket? Did I leave it at Shashi's house? When did I have it last?
I experience what can only be called a poor-choice-by-the-director-flashback. Standing on the metro platform only 5 minutes ago I had reached back and patted my wallet in the pocket.
Being brought back to the present I turn to Shammi and tell him the news. He asks what I had in the wallet, and what I think we should do. I take a mental inventory of my wallet:
2,000 Rupees
My Drivers License
Insurance Card
Photocopy of Passport
Barnes and Noble Membership card
3 credit cards
1 debit card
1 emergency $20 dollar bill hidden in one of the compartments
We get off at the next stop and find an internet cafe. I proceed to call my bank and credit card company and cancel all the cards. Turns out the person who stole my wallet had tried to buy in total $5,000 dollars worth of stuff with my cards. Thankfully none of my credit cards work over here without me calling to authorize them. He did however manage to wrangle $400 bucks from my debit card. All this happened within 20 minutes.
I loved that wallet. I have had it for 7 years. I have lost it 2 times, and both times it has come back to me. It was my friend, and a companion that has traveled the world with me. The worst part of all of this is I never realized how much I cared for that wallet until it was gone. I never told it how I felt, how much it meant to me. And now I don't think I will ever get the chance.
Friday, March 6, 2009
Friday Night
Today I started out by heading to a Barista. Barista is the Indian version of Starbucks. What this means is that their coffee is bitter and overpriced. However, it is the ONLY real coffee to be found in India. Ahh the things I will suffer for a cup of java every so often.
After Barista I met up with Shashi and we went to McDonalds. McDonalds is the Indian version of McDonalds. The menu is different, however you are still greeted by the same underpaid teenagers with English as a second language. I had the chicken sandwich and Shashi had some weird veggie burger. They have normal veggie burgers as well, but the one Shashi had was called some odd name that was a cross between western advertisement language and Hindi. My ears decided to block out the name of it because my gentle brain is not ready to behold the horrors of advertisement speak in another language.
After McDonalds, we saw Slumdog Millionaire. The movie was good and I recommend it to everyone. Good story, good music (no line dancing till the end credits), and good acting. It does show a darker side of India, but that is just context.
Gotta run, getting ready to leave tomorrow.
After Barista I met up with Shashi and we went to McDonalds. McDonalds is the Indian version of McDonalds. The menu is different, however you are still greeted by the same underpaid teenagers with English as a second language. I had the chicken sandwich and Shashi had some weird veggie burger. They have normal veggie burgers as well, but the one Shashi had was called some odd name that was a cross between western advertisement language and Hindi. My ears decided to block out the name of it because my gentle brain is not ready to behold the horrors of advertisement speak in another language.
After McDonalds, we saw Slumdog Millionaire. The movie was good and I recommend it to everyone. Good story, good music (no line dancing till the end credits), and good acting. It does show a darker side of India, but that is just context.
Gotta run, getting ready to leave tomorrow.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Leave me a voicemail!
So I got my Skype number working again. It is a local NJ number that has voice mail that I can check every so often. If you want to call and harass me, entertain me, mock me, say hi to me, or simple prank call me I would appreciate it! The number is located over on the left.
I look forward to your calls!
I look forward to your calls!
I think someone is watching me....
I am having troubles starting this post. I have decided to write about my physical appearance in relation to my location. I am a large white man in a country of small brown folk. That is about as boiled down a description of my situation in India that I can make.
Growing up in New Jersey and specifically Hudson County, I quickly grew accustomed to seeing people of all sizes, shapes, and colors. As a young child my best friend was a kid across the street of middle eastern ethnicity named Allah. Throughout grammar school my best friend was an odd mix of Irish and Guyanese. I grew up in a town where the majority of the population is Hispanic. I went to high school in a city where no one ethnic group can claim a majority. And I lived next to the most racially diverse city in the world.
I am not making the argument that India lacks diversity. There are dozens of ethnic groups located in India, and they are all represented in Delhi. It just so happens that none of those groups looks like me.
Everywhere I go I feel eyes on me. I cannot just blend in with the crowd or step to the background and fade away. As I walk down the street almost every single person will stop and look at me, at least for a second. Some children are so afraid of me they run away. Many people are very friendly and will walk right up to me, say something I cannot understand, and shake my hand. Every moment I am out in public feels like a moment I am on display.
I have mixed feeling about all the attention I get. On one hand their interest in me interests me. I take it as an opportunity to interact with people in a way I do not get to back home. I keep a smile on my face and wave to the people staring at me. I play a game with myself trying to keep count of all the people that wave back. Many people do wave back and most of them return my smile with one of their own. It is an odd and distant interaction, but I enjoy it.
On the other hand sometimes I just want to blend in. Sometimes I just want to be able to walk from point A to point B without people staring at me or whispering to each other. A perfect example of a time I wish I could just blend is on the Metro. The train is crowded and you are surrounded on all sides by people. It would be nice to just be one body amongst many. However the Metro is no safe haven. People are still staring and whispering.
It isn't really all that bad. It is just something that is always present. I have gotten used to it.
My plane leaves for Orissa on Saturday. Posts may come a little more sporadically after that as I am not sure when or where I will have internet access. When I get my cell phone number down in Orissa I will post it for people to call me. I would suggest using Skype to call me as international calling rates from the US are unnaturally high.
Growing up in New Jersey and specifically Hudson County, I quickly grew accustomed to seeing people of all sizes, shapes, and colors. As a young child my best friend was a kid across the street of middle eastern ethnicity named Allah. Throughout grammar school my best friend was an odd mix of Irish and Guyanese. I grew up in a town where the majority of the population is Hispanic. I went to high school in a city where no one ethnic group can claim a majority. And I lived next to the most racially diverse city in the world.
I am not making the argument that India lacks diversity. There are dozens of ethnic groups located in India, and they are all represented in Delhi. It just so happens that none of those groups looks like me.
Everywhere I go I feel eyes on me. I cannot just blend in with the crowd or step to the background and fade away. As I walk down the street almost every single person will stop and look at me, at least for a second. Some children are so afraid of me they run away. Many people are very friendly and will walk right up to me, say something I cannot understand, and shake my hand. Every moment I am out in public feels like a moment I am on display.
I have mixed feeling about all the attention I get. On one hand their interest in me interests me. I take it as an opportunity to interact with people in a way I do not get to back home. I keep a smile on my face and wave to the people staring at me. I play a game with myself trying to keep count of all the people that wave back. Many people do wave back and most of them return my smile with one of their own. It is an odd and distant interaction, but I enjoy it.
On the other hand sometimes I just want to blend in. Sometimes I just want to be able to walk from point A to point B without people staring at me or whispering to each other. A perfect example of a time I wish I could just blend is on the Metro. The train is crowded and you are surrounded on all sides by people. It would be nice to just be one body amongst many. However the Metro is no safe haven. People are still staring and whispering.
It isn't really all that bad. It is just something that is always present. I have gotten used to it.
My plane leaves for Orissa on Saturday. Posts may come a little more sporadically after that as I am not sure when or where I will have internet access. When I get my cell phone number down in Orissa I will post it for people to call me. I would suggest using Skype to call me as international calling rates from the US are unnaturally high.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
I am William Purcell
So I am me again! Well my bank thinks I am me again, which is all that counts when you are trying to get your debit card to work overseas. I called my bank again today and this time they were able to verify that I am in fact William Purcell.
I fell asleep rather early yesterday. What I thought was only going to be a quick nap ended up with me waking up at 3 AM local time. I did not want to undo all my hard work of adjusting to the time difference by being up that early in the morning so I reached into my bag and cheated myself to sleep with a Benedryl. I passed out and woke up around 7 AM. I really needed the sleep it turns out.
Over the past few days there has been some de-construction going on in Shashi's neighborhood. 3 men with sledgehammers have completely reduced a 3 story building to rubble. 3 men. 3 sledgehammers. 3 story building. 3 days. Personally, I liked the idea of it. There is something satisfactory in watching something slowly crumble. I suppose it is because I subscribe to the boom-boom theory.
This theory (loosely) states that one of the reasons that we enjoy watching things destroyed or taken apart is because as humans there is part of us that resents living in an ordered and rule filled society. Man made structures are physical representations of the constraints that society places on us. When we see them destroyed it feels exhilarating and liberating because we associate these buildings and possessions as enslaving us in some way. It gives us hope to know that society can be deconstructed.
I finished a book today. Neil Gaimen's American Gods. This book is about all the gods we have imported, created, and forgotten over the years in America. According to the mythology of the book gods are created, and maintained by our belief in them. The Internet, Odin, and Johnny Appleseed are just some of the gods that this book deals with.
The idea that gods are man-made and man-sustained is a theme that is common in many writers I find myself drawn to. Terry Pratchett, Neil Gaimen, and Tom Robbins are just a few of my favorite authors that seem to share this approach to the divine. While I do not necessarily agree with them, I cannot help but see that people actually do create, worship, and abandon their own gods all the time. These authors simply take the human condition a step beyond the believable and manifest the things that we worship as actual gods.
I suppose I like to read these kinds of books because it reminds me to examine the gods I have created in my own life. Ironically enough one of those gods is books themselves. I have an addiction to reading. I will go on month long book binges where I will read everything I can get my hands on. Then I will get bored and not pick up a book for a month or two.
My trips to India have always been book binge times. Here I have a lot of free time, and none of the same distractions I have at home. I suppose it is a way in which I insulate myself from my surroundings, choosing to enter a world in my mind instead of dealing with the new world surrounding me.
I dunno.
I fell asleep rather early yesterday. What I thought was only going to be a quick nap ended up with me waking up at 3 AM local time. I did not want to undo all my hard work of adjusting to the time difference by being up that early in the morning so I reached into my bag and cheated myself to sleep with a Benedryl. I passed out and woke up around 7 AM. I really needed the sleep it turns out.
Over the past few days there has been some de-construction going on in Shashi's neighborhood. 3 men with sledgehammers have completely reduced a 3 story building to rubble. 3 men. 3 sledgehammers. 3 story building. 3 days. Personally, I liked the idea of it. There is something satisfactory in watching something slowly crumble. I suppose it is because I subscribe to the boom-boom theory.
This theory (loosely) states that one of the reasons that we enjoy watching things destroyed or taken apart is because as humans there is part of us that resents living in an ordered and rule filled society. Man made structures are physical representations of the constraints that society places on us. When we see them destroyed it feels exhilarating and liberating because we associate these buildings and possessions as enslaving us in some way. It gives us hope to know that society can be deconstructed.
I finished a book today. Neil Gaimen's American Gods. This book is about all the gods we have imported, created, and forgotten over the years in America. According to the mythology of the book gods are created, and maintained by our belief in them. The Internet, Odin, and Johnny Appleseed are just some of the gods that this book deals with.
The idea that gods are man-made and man-sustained is a theme that is common in many writers I find myself drawn to. Terry Pratchett, Neil Gaimen, and Tom Robbins are just a few of my favorite authors that seem to share this approach to the divine. While I do not necessarily agree with them, I cannot help but see that people actually do create, worship, and abandon their own gods all the time. These authors simply take the human condition a step beyond the believable and manifest the things that we worship as actual gods.
I suppose I like to read these kinds of books because it reminds me to examine the gods I have created in my own life. Ironically enough one of those gods is books themselves. I have an addiction to reading. I will go on month long book binges where I will read everything I can get my hands on. Then I will get bored and not pick up a book for a month or two.
My trips to India have always been book binge times. Here I have a lot of free time, and none of the same distractions I have at home. I suppose it is a way in which I insulate myself from my surroundings, choosing to enter a world in my mind instead of dealing with the new world surrounding me.
I dunno.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Banks 1 William 0
Today I was trying to book a plane or train down to Orissa. I had found some really great rates, had booked the flight, and was ready to pay. Easy as pie, right? Wrong.
My debit card was declined. I checked the account balance. Plenty of money to pay for the flight. So I figured there was some issue. I tried my credit card. Declined. My final option was my reserve credit card. That was also declined. At this point I am extremely frustrated. So I log into Skype and I am going to call my bank. My Skype account is empty. I try to use my debit card to top off the Skype balance. Declined. So I attempt to call my bank using my cell phone. Call failed. At this point I am out of options.
So I borrowed Shashi's cell phone and called my bank. Went through all the automated options and finally reached a customer service representative (an Indian lady). I told her my problem and she said she would help me fix it. But before she could she was going to need to ask me a few questions about myself.
Turns out. I don't know me. I discovered that I am merely someone who thinks he is William Purcell. She said that she would be unable to help me because I failed to answer the questions correctly. So with my new identity crisis I hung up the phone and began pondering how I was going to sort things out. Deciding that worrying about it was only paying interest to trouble I resigned myself to trying again tomorrow.
I spent the rest of the day getting everything else I needed ready for my trip down to Orissa.
At around 4pm Shashi came home and we both got into her car and headed out for lunch. The next part of this story would be fairly boring if not for the fact that I am in India.
We went to a Pizza Hut that was located in a mall.
It is here that I confess to all everyone that India is not actually a strange and beautiful land inhabited by a people whose culture is rich and vastly different from our own. The Pizza Hut was located in the food court of the mall. This food court also contained a Subway, a McDonalds, and a KFC. To top things off the mall was filled with teenagers. All the stores you expect to be in a mall were there. I had traveled 13 hours by plane and ended up in Garden State Plaza.
I would go off on a rant about how the world is becoming homogenized, except my brain has stopped functioning.
Came back from the mall and began writing this post. Right now I think the jet lag is finally really catching up with me. I am going to try to take a quick nap before dinner to see if that helps.
My debit card was declined. I checked the account balance. Plenty of money to pay for the flight. So I figured there was some issue. I tried my credit card. Declined. My final option was my reserve credit card. That was also declined. At this point I am extremely frustrated. So I log into Skype and I am going to call my bank. My Skype account is empty. I try to use my debit card to top off the Skype balance. Declined. So I attempt to call my bank using my cell phone. Call failed. At this point I am out of options.
So I borrowed Shashi's cell phone and called my bank. Went through all the automated options and finally reached a customer service representative (an Indian lady). I told her my problem and she said she would help me fix it. But before she could she was going to need to ask me a few questions about myself.
Turns out. I don't know me. I discovered that I am merely someone who thinks he is William Purcell. She said that she would be unable to help me because I failed to answer the questions correctly. So with my new identity crisis I hung up the phone and began pondering how I was going to sort things out. Deciding that worrying about it was only paying interest to trouble I resigned myself to trying again tomorrow.
I spent the rest of the day getting everything else I needed ready for my trip down to Orissa.
At around 4pm Shashi came home and we both got into her car and headed out for lunch. The next part of this story would be fairly boring if not for the fact that I am in India.
We went to a Pizza Hut that was located in a mall.
It is here that I confess to all everyone that India is not actually a strange and beautiful land inhabited by a people whose culture is rich and vastly different from our own. The Pizza Hut was located in the food court of the mall. This food court also contained a Subway, a McDonalds, and a KFC. To top things off the mall was filled with teenagers. All the stores you expect to be in a mall were there. I had traveled 13 hours by plane and ended up in Garden State Plaza.
I would go off on a rant about how the world is becoming homogenized, except my brain has stopped functioning.
Came back from the mall and began writing this post. Right now I think the jet lag is finally really catching up with me. I am going to try to take a quick nap before dinner to see if that helps.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Alone In Delhi
Today after breakfast I hopped on the Metro and went to the center of New Delhi. Shashi and Shammi both had work so I was, for the first time, alone in Delhi. At first I thought nothing of it. However after about an hour of wandering through Connaught Place it dawned on me that this was the first time I had wandered the streets of Delhi by myself. I liked it. A lot. Usually when I am here I am with familiar people all the time, and on some kind of schedule. Today, however, I was alone and had time to kill. So I wandered, meandered, and strolled through the center of Delhi like I had absolutely no purpose. I browsed bookstores, handicraft shops, and any other shop that caught my fancy. I took the time to stop and talk to the people who were trying to sell me something I did not want or would not buy. I sat and read a book in the City Center Park.
Connaught Place is the center of Delhi's ongoing commercialization and gentrification. It is here where you will find Levi's stores, a Sony shop, and even a KFC. Because it is such a high traffic area, there are many people on the streets trying to sell random junk. Maps of India, travel chess sets, and plastic bracelets are the most common items being forced on the heaps of tourists that frequent Connaught Place. The many tourists (and middle class Indians) have also encouraged a large population of beggars to take up their posts in Connaught Place.
I use the term beggar because that is what their profession is. They are not homeless like we are used to in the US. The people here are not exactly homeless. They may not have a roof over their head, but wherever they live IS their home. People here live in crude shacks or on the street, but even the people who live on the streets live in a constant place that almost, if not actually, belongs to them in some way or another. They may not have a lease or a deed, but they know where they live, and so do other people. I suppose that there are cases like that in America, but the difference is how the rest of the society views it. Here, it is perfectly acceptable for a man running a news stand to sleep on a cot next to the news stand. but that is enough about that.
Today I was approached by an Indian man with an Australian accent. He wanted me to come with him to see his gallery. I happened to have plenty of time, and plenty of patience, so I decided to allow him to drag me through Delhi and try to sell me something. It turns out he works in a carpet gallery. I told them right up front that I was not interested in buying anything, but they insisted that I at least sit down and look at what they had to offer. They assured me that once I saw their wares I would not be able to live without them. So I spent the next hour learning about different qualities, materials, and patterns of oriental carpets. I must say that I was impressed by the quality of some of the carpets this gentleman showed me. some of them were absolutely beautiful. In spite of their beauty I declined to purchase any of their carpets, we said our goodbyes, and I was on my way.
By this time I was ready for lunch. I was near a place that I had been before and decided that it was as good a spot as any to sit down, have a drink, eat some lunch, and read a book. So I went to Rodeo. Rodeo is a wild west themed restaurant in Delhi. The waiters and waitresses all wear cowboy outfits with order pads in gun holsters. The bar has saddles for seats. And old time country music is always playing. I absolutely love this place. I suppose I love it because they aren't trying to mock cowboy culture as we do with similarly themed restaurants back home. This restaurant is a genuine homage to the cowboy.
That was all the exciting or notable stuff that happened to me today.
Oooo. A bird pooped on my head. That was also notable. Just thought you should know.
Connaught Place is the center of Delhi's ongoing commercialization and gentrification. It is here where you will find Levi's stores, a Sony shop, and even a KFC. Because it is such a high traffic area, there are many people on the streets trying to sell random junk. Maps of India, travel chess sets, and plastic bracelets are the most common items being forced on the heaps of tourists that frequent Connaught Place. The many tourists (and middle class Indians) have also encouraged a large population of beggars to take up their posts in Connaught Place.
I use the term beggar because that is what their profession is. They are not homeless like we are used to in the US. The people here are not exactly homeless. They may not have a roof over their head, but wherever they live IS their home. People here live in crude shacks or on the street, but even the people who live on the streets live in a constant place that almost, if not actually, belongs to them in some way or another. They may not have a lease or a deed, but they know where they live, and so do other people. I suppose that there are cases like that in America, but the difference is how the rest of the society views it. Here, it is perfectly acceptable for a man running a news stand to sleep on a cot next to the news stand. but that is enough about that.
Today I was approached by an Indian man with an Australian accent. He wanted me to come with him to see his gallery. I happened to have plenty of time, and plenty of patience, so I decided to allow him to drag me through Delhi and try to sell me something. It turns out he works in a carpet gallery. I told them right up front that I was not interested in buying anything, but they insisted that I at least sit down and look at what they had to offer. They assured me that once I saw their wares I would not be able to live without them. So I spent the next hour learning about different qualities, materials, and patterns of oriental carpets. I must say that I was impressed by the quality of some of the carpets this gentleman showed me. some of them were absolutely beautiful. In spite of their beauty I declined to purchase any of their carpets, we said our goodbyes, and I was on my way.
By this time I was ready for lunch. I was near a place that I had been before and decided that it was as good a spot as any to sit down, have a drink, eat some lunch, and read a book. So I went to Rodeo. Rodeo is a wild west themed restaurant in Delhi. The waiters and waitresses all wear cowboy outfits with order pads in gun holsters. The bar has saddles for seats. And old time country music is always playing. I absolutely love this place. I suppose I love it because they aren't trying to mock cowboy culture as we do with similarly themed restaurants back home. This restaurant is a genuine homage to the cowboy.
That was all the exciting or notable stuff that happened to me today.
Oooo. A bird pooped on my head. That was also notable. Just thought you should know.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Fun with a Family
Today was spent with Shashi and Shammi at their Aunt's house. It was a family get together, and I was invited. For the most part I sat there and listened to their conversations. Well that is not true. I listened to their words, but had little to no understanding of their conversations. I did however take this as an opportunity to practice listening.
It is not that I think I am a bad listener. What I was practicing was being able to listen to individual words that are spoken in Hindi. See, I am learning Hindi right now. And I thought I was doing fairly well learning it. I was wrong. Simple sentences spoken by native Hindi speakers eluded me. This was because I was not used to listening to it.
I have had a similar experience in my own native language. When in the southern USA sometimes I can not understand a damn word some of the people claiming to speak a language of which I was fairly sure I had a solid grasp. So I spent today learning to listen to Hindi. I will get back to you when I have actually made progress.
In the evening We all piled into cars and went to see India gate. It is a huge monument similar to the Arch de Triumph in France. It commemorates all the Indian soldiers who lost their lives in the first world war. Surrounding this impressively large arch are wide open fields, where many citizens of Delhi gather in the evenings to sit and picnic. It was very pleasant to walk around the arch and see all the people just lounging around, sitting, chatting, and having fun. Very peaceful.
After India Gate we headed over to a canteen for dinner. This particular canteen was known for its excellent quality of food. What was not made known to me (immediately) was that it was also famous for being incredibly spicy food. Over the years I have developed a (mostly) respectable tolerance for spicy food. This place, however, made my eyes water and my nose run. That being said, the food really was excellent.
Came home, blogged, went to bed.
It is not that I think I am a bad listener. What I was practicing was being able to listen to individual words that are spoken in Hindi. See, I am learning Hindi right now. And I thought I was doing fairly well learning it. I was wrong. Simple sentences spoken by native Hindi speakers eluded me. This was because I was not used to listening to it.
I have had a similar experience in my own native language. When in the southern USA sometimes I can not understand a damn word some of the people claiming to speak a language of which I was fairly sure I had a solid grasp. So I spent today learning to listen to Hindi. I will get back to you when I have actually made progress.
In the evening We all piled into cars and went to see India gate. It is a huge monument similar to the Arch de Triumph in France. It commemorates all the Indian soldiers who lost their lives in the first world war. Surrounding this impressively large arch are wide open fields, where many citizens of Delhi gather in the evenings to sit and picnic. It was very pleasant to walk around the arch and see all the people just lounging around, sitting, chatting, and having fun. Very peaceful.
After India Gate we headed over to a canteen for dinner. This particular canteen was known for its excellent quality of food. What was not made known to me (immediately) was that it was also famous for being incredibly spicy food. Over the years I have developed a (mostly) respectable tolerance for spicy food. This place, however, made my eyes water and my nose run. That being said, the food really was excellent.
Came home, blogged, went to bed.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Missing:: One Day
I am missing a day. It happens to me every time I travel here to India. I was on the plane for 12.5 hours, and the time difference is 11.5 hours ahead over here. What this means is that I arrived in Delhi at the same time I left Newark, just in the future. I feel odd whenever I think about that missing day. I understand that I still experienced the passage of time. I suppose the weird feeling is spending 12.5 hours traveling 24 hours into the future.
I don’t know what it is about packing, but I am really bad at doing it in a timely manner. I suppose I like to be under a deadline. My plane left was scheduled to leave at 8:40 PM of February 27, 2009. This meant that I had to be at the airport by 6:40 PM of the same day. My bag was 100% empty as on 6:01 PM. I did make it to the airport in plenty of time.
The plane was packed. All the seats were filled. The man sitting next to me kept sleeping on my shoulder. This made for a relatively uncomfortable trip, but nothing I couldn’t handle. I would complain about airline food, but everyone already knows it is terrible. I suppose I did just complain about airline food.
After working my way through customs and baggage claim, I went and got a prepaid taxi as usual. The taxi driver actually knew where he was going. This usually doesn’t happen. So now I am safe and sound at Shashi’s House.
I don’t know what it is about packing, but I am really bad at doing it in a timely manner. I suppose I like to be under a deadline. My plane left was scheduled to leave at 8:40 PM of February 27, 2009. This meant that I had to be at the airport by 6:40 PM of the same day. My bag was 100% empty as on 6:01 PM. I did make it to the airport in plenty of time.
The plane was packed. All the seats were filled. The man sitting next to me kept sleeping on my shoulder. This made for a relatively uncomfortable trip, but nothing I couldn’t handle. I would complain about airline food, but everyone already knows it is terrible. I suppose I did just complain about airline food.
After working my way through customs and baggage claim, I went and got a prepaid taxi as usual. The taxi driver actually knew where he was going. This usually doesn’t happen. So now I am safe and sound at Shashi’s House.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
This blog is not dead!
After one month of rest, I am ready to travel again, and blog. I am going to be leaving the US of A mid February. While I am still here in the states I am going to be blogging about the things I need to do to prepare for this trip.
This time out I am going to be staying at the Hospital in Orissa for a much longer time, and therefore I am going to have different needs, and different preparations. Hopefully my misadventures in planning will be as entertaining for you as they are frustrating and educational for me.
Here are the immediate steps that I am aware I need to take.
1) Purchase actual plane ticket.
2) Find a few laptops to be donated to the project.
3) Get all my paperwork in order so that all my bills are taken care of in the US while I am away.
4) Go shopping for anything I need and do not have.
These are very generalized steps, but I will be going into more detail as I am working on the tasks.
This time out I am going to be staying at the Hospital in Orissa for a much longer time, and therefore I am going to have different needs, and different preparations. Hopefully my misadventures in planning will be as entertaining for you as they are frustrating and educational for me.
Here are the immediate steps that I am aware I need to take.
1) Purchase actual plane ticket.
2) Find a few laptops to be donated to the project.
3) Get all my paperwork in order so that all my bills are taken care of in the US while I am away.
4) Go shopping for anything I need and do not have.
These are very generalized steps, but I will be going into more detail as I am working on the tasks.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
I am a bringer of Rains
I am here in Windsor. It is raining.
This is not a surprise I suppose. England is famous for its wet weather. However Cathy's house is as fun and friendly as ever, so I have no complaints about the weather. I am nearing the end of my 2 month long journey and I am finishing up with a quiet stay in Cathy's House.
The last few days in Jaipur and Delhi were fantastic. Shashi and Shammy are excellent hosts, and my nightly pan walks with Shammy were a great end to my stay in India. Shammy is a wonderful man to sit and talk with. He is educated, smart, funny, and has seen many parts of the world. This combination gives him an ability to provide me with insight into India, and other countries around the world. For instance he was recently working in the Indian Embassy in Cuba, and informed me that the country is absolutely wonderful. In mostly every regard. Everyone is educated, taken care of, and for the most part happy.
We had many reasons to praise Shashi this visit. Not only was she allowing Michael and myself to stay in her house, and cooking wonderful food for us, but some paperwork she submitted in Delhi appears to finally have kicked the government into getting the road to the hospital paved. This is particularly amazing due to the fact that Michael has been trying to get this road built for over a decade. This bit of paperwork that Shashi put in the right hands of the right office will benefit tens if not hundreds of thousands of villagers in Orissa. When the road is complete she will have made a difference in the lives of so many.
My flight over from India to England was very pleasant, except I could a cold on the plane. I did however have an opportunity to watch Lawrence of Arabia, which I have not seen for over a decade. This was particularly interesting because Michael Daube IS Lawrence of Arabia. It is uncanny. He works with the local population in order to help them improve themselves. He is compassionate, and energized. The people he works with on the grounds revere him as a saint, or an angel. He is educated, aloof, and quite wise.
Michael would never tell you he is a great man, or that he does great things. I believe he really has learned so much from his work and travels, that he really understands what it means to do small things with great compassion. I know I sound like I am worshiping him, but that is not the case. He is a good man and a great role model. I feel very lucky to have been able to spend 2 months traveling with him and picking his brain. I think I am better for it.
It is late here, and I am tired. I plan on continuing my blog after my travels are over. I do not know what I will write about, but I think the trick for me is going to be making sure I keep my life interesting enough so that I can keep material for this blog. I do not plan on changing the name of the blog, because I think William Abroad suits the way I think, and the way I want to think and act.
This is not a surprise I suppose. England is famous for its wet weather. However Cathy's house is as fun and friendly as ever, so I have no complaints about the weather. I am nearing the end of my 2 month long journey and I am finishing up with a quiet stay in Cathy's House.
The last few days in Jaipur and Delhi were fantastic. Shashi and Shammy are excellent hosts, and my nightly pan walks with Shammy were a great end to my stay in India. Shammy is a wonderful man to sit and talk with. He is educated, smart, funny, and has seen many parts of the world. This combination gives him an ability to provide me with insight into India, and other countries around the world. For instance he was recently working in the Indian Embassy in Cuba, and informed me that the country is absolutely wonderful. In mostly every regard. Everyone is educated, taken care of, and for the most part happy.
We had many reasons to praise Shashi this visit. Not only was she allowing Michael and myself to stay in her house, and cooking wonderful food for us, but some paperwork she submitted in Delhi appears to finally have kicked the government into getting the road to the hospital paved. This is particularly amazing due to the fact that Michael has been trying to get this road built for over a decade. This bit of paperwork that Shashi put in the right hands of the right office will benefit tens if not hundreds of thousands of villagers in Orissa. When the road is complete she will have made a difference in the lives of so many.
My flight over from India to England was very pleasant, except I could a cold on the plane. I did however have an opportunity to watch Lawrence of Arabia, which I have not seen for over a decade. This was particularly interesting because Michael Daube IS Lawrence of Arabia. It is uncanny. He works with the local population in order to help them improve themselves. He is compassionate, and energized. The people he works with on the grounds revere him as a saint, or an angel. He is educated, aloof, and quite wise.
Michael would never tell you he is a great man, or that he does great things. I believe he really has learned so much from his work and travels, that he really understands what it means to do small things with great compassion. I know I sound like I am worshiping him, but that is not the case. He is a good man and a great role model. I feel very lucky to have been able to spend 2 months traveling with him and picking his brain. I think I am better for it.
It is late here, and I am tired. I plan on continuing my blog after my travels are over. I do not know what I will write about, but I think the trick for me is going to be making sure I keep my life interesting enough so that I can keep material for this blog. I do not plan on changing the name of the blog, because I think William Abroad suits the way I think, and the way I want to think and act.
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