Is There A Doctor In The House?

How many times in my life have I been required to interview a doctor for a job? Today brings the number up to 3.

What the heck am I doing interviewing a doctor you ask? What makes me qualified to check if a doctor is good at his job? What the hell is going on here? If I were to attempt to answer any of those questions I would be hurled Monty Python style into the Pit of Despair. I really do not know what I am doing when I have to interview these doctors. I have absolutely no qualification to check if a doctor is good at his job. I have no idea what is going on here.

What I do know is that It is my job to try to get a feel for the person I am interviewing. I am then to call the Executive Officer of Citta Michael Daube and tell him what I thought about the man. That is what my job is. I am essentially trying to figure out if this person is a good fit for the organization. Needless to say every time I go through one of these interviews I have a good laugh afterwards at how ridiculous the entire situation is.

If you have good taste, and you ever have a chance to watch an Oriya film called “Crazy Love” pass. Seriously. The film was bad. It was bad by my EXTREMELY low standards. I mean this is coming from a guy who has watched Turkish Star Wars, Jesus Christ Vampire Hunter, Dead Alive, Evil Aliens, and Battlefield Earth and enjoyed them somewhat. I have honed my bad movie watching into a finely tuned art. I am like a fricken ninja of watching bad movies.

I don’t really remember when I decided that I was going to watch all the world’s worst movies. All I know is that it has become somewhat a lifelong quest for me. I suppose I do owe the origins of my quest to Mystery Science Theater 3000. Without those brave men (an robots) trapped in space being forced to watch awful cinema, I may have never realized how important schlock is.

There are those of you I know are also on my quest. You know who you are, and I thank you because I do not think I would have the strength to watch all the world’s horrible movies by myself. It is the knowledge that there are people out there, like me, fighting the good fight against Z grade movies.

Snap Shot

Today I made the rounds of all the worksites around the project. There are 2 major construction projects happening here.

One of the projects is an addition of a staff quarters to the hospital. Right now they are still making the bricks for the building and the foundation. So I went over to the large field set aside for the brick construction. 8 men are working on the production of the bricks. They gather the soil that is provided free of cost by local farmers who wish to have the level of their filed lowered for better irrigation. They haul sand from the river that is 4km away. And they pump water from a local well to produce copious amounts of mud. This mud mix is then poured into wooden brick molds. After that the brick-shaped-mud is set to dry in the sun for one day on each side. Doing all this by hand, they 8 men produce 5,000 – 6,000 bricks per day.

The other project is a public restroom. The local village of Juanga has less toilets than homes. Most people go to the bathroom right out in the fields. This toilet project will hopefully give them somewhere else to do their business.

After my rounds and pictures, I spent some time teaching Manu how to take a picture. I am not a photographic genius. I barely qualify as photographically inept. I am personally unable to tolerate the site of any photo I take. Still, the photos I take are of a western style, and the people who fund the project are from a western country, and they have certain expectations of what a picture should be, and that is what I am trying to teach Manu.

For the most part, all the people at the hospital have absolutely no clue what people in the western world would find interesting or engaging in a photograph. Most of the time when a friend of mine shows me some photos they have taken, or one of their friends have taken, it is 3 people standing shoulder to shoulder in front of… something. The “something” is usually a temple, ocean, or car. And the people are never smiling. It is rare to see someone smiling in a photograph here. Even when I want to take a picture I need to coax a smile out of my friends here. I have resorted to tickling.

Pink Floyd Never Made It Big In India

Today I spent the morning at the beach. It was a cool 97 degrees with no wind, and the water was warmer than a bath. There was extremely rough surf with a wicked undertow that made swimming all but impossible. I did manage to get some time in the sandy murky water of the Bay of Bengal despite the surf conditions.

I have been staying at the Hotel Lotus. It is the same hotel that my brother Don smashed his head open in a few years back. After 2 nights in the hotel without any injury I believe I have proven the place safe for Purcell’s to stay in… Except Don… he can never go back.

I went to the ATM today to get some funds to last me the next few weeks. I was shocked to discover that the ATM was in an air conditioned room! This is the part of the story where I confess staying in the room with the ATM for much longer than my transaction required, just to catch a break from the heat.

Speaking of the heat, I have discovered myself complaining more and more in my blog, and less and less in my daily life. I believe I am becoming accustomed to it. I am now referring to 95 degrees as “a pleasant day,” and if it happens to drop below 90 it is “practically chilly.” While the nights are becoming hotter, I am finding it easier to sleep comfortably. What happens when I return to America and experience 70-80 degree weather? I can say one only this: I look forward to it.

A friend of mine in Puri gave me a CD to listen to on the way back to Juanga. It was his favorite songs by Pink Floyd. I do not know what I enjoyed more, they music, or the faces of my Indian compatriots as they tried to understand exactly what the hell was going on with the music. I thought about telling them they should try listening to it after a Bhang Lassi, but thought better of it.

Bhang Lassi, for those of you who are unaware, is a drink. A lassi is chilled curd that is blended into an almost yogurt like drink substance. Bhang is a narcotic leaf that is crushed and added to a lassi. If someone offers you a Bhang Lassi, just say no.

Missionaries of Charity

So I totally chilled with some Missionaries of Charity today, and they invited me to their leper colony! I might just take them up on the offer next week, but for right now I have some work to do.

They are the sweetest, nicest, and shortest women I have ever met. They happened to be at the same Mass I was at today (that being no coincidence as there is only one Church and only one Mass at the one Church). After Church they cornered me at asked me all sorts of questions about what I was doing there, and where I was staying, and... come to think of it they grilled me worse than the police did...

Anyway, they grilled me in a nice way. The Church here is just called the Catholic Church of Puri, but after some wrangling of the Priest I found out that it is dedicated to The Blessed Mother. Yeah there was a HUGE carving of Mary on the outside, but you can never be too sure with these things.

Spent today working on some reports, and lunching at Govinda's place. His mom tried to over feed me again. Practically forcing food into my mouth. She is truly a wonderful woman, but do not trust here with a handful of cauliflower.

Hare Krishna!

I hate that damn car trip.

I am in Puri today. For those of you who do not know Puri is a coastal city in Orissa. It contains the most holy of holy shrines to the Lord Jagganath, who happens to be an incarnation of Krishna. That means that the place is filthy with Hare Krishnas.

The locals really do not like the Hare Krishna. The view them all as low life smugglers who are way to whacked out on drugs to be any real benefit to society. Hare Krishnas are, for all intents and purposes, Hindus. But not according to the Hindus. See to BE a Hindu, you must be BORN a Hindu. There is no BECOMING a Hindu. So all the Hindus around here look at the Hare Krishna as some perversion of their faith.

I am just happy they keep the singing and dancing to the beach.

Happy Friday? Right? What is Today?

It's Friday, and I would not have known that without a calendar. I have been very busy lately, and it pleases me so.

I spend most of my day teaching. Trying to help someone be a better employee for the hospital or school. I take photo's of current projects, and I write reports. It may seem boring to many of you, but here it is a breath of fresh air. To be doing something, and to be working is a great feeling. For a while I would spend each night thinking about what I failed to do today, now I am too busy thinking about what I need to do tomorrow.

Quickly to the Bat Cave!

I have been watching soap operas... In Oriya. The are horrible, which is to say they are exactly on par with American soap operas. The acting is over the top, the camera angles are extreme, and the plots are so convoluted that the only thing less believable is the casts acting (which I have already mentioned is bad). The sad part is this. Even though I can now pick out a few words every now and then... I still know exactly what is going on in these damn shows.

Stories, and especially the kind you find on TV, are becoming less and less exciting for me. The way some people look at a math problem and just see an answer, I look at the plots of stories. I suppose it is because I read (too much), watch a few TV serials, and attend movies regularly. I will say that I am truly joyous when something is executed in a particularly brilliant or crafty manner. I view it as an opportunity to learn, and be entertained.

I have even gone as far as to try to write my own stories and plot lines. However they are nothing I am proud of. Actually they are nothing at all. I have started and stopped a dozen times, and I suppose I will continue to do so, until I surprise myself.

I Am Nobody's Fool

Toady was April fools day, and it turns out they practice it here in Juanga. From the moment I woke up people were attempting to catch me unaware. Dr. Sarangi told me there was a spider on my head. Manu pointed out that my hair was all messed up. Biku tried to draw my attention to a large hole in my t-shirt. Everyone tried these simple pranks.

They were fooling no one. I was forced to educate them on a truly glorious April Fools prank. It involved tact, guile, and many other characters from Street Fighter. Unfortunately they do not have powdered milk here in Juanga. Nor do they have powdered sugar, creamed corn, a bottle of wine, a basket of figs, and 3 mice. So I was relegated to to the old classic of staring quietly with a frightened look on my face right behind someone. That one... that one never fails.

One Month Down

Well even though 2 days ago was officially 30 days for me here in India, Today is the end of my first month. Due to abnormal time fluctuations I find myself feeling like it has been somewhere between one week, and one year since I last saw the United States.

I postulate that only one of 2 things can be true about my experiences with these feelings.

1) My perception of time is messed up due to heat, slow village life, brief periods of frenzied activity, calling people who are in another part of the day than I am, and general lack of interest in knowing what time it is.

-or-

2) Someone has created a machine that controls time and is hiding it in a small village in the middle-of-nowhere India.

I find one to be as likely as the other.

It's All Greek To Me

Preparations are truly underway for the construction of the new staff quarters here. Every day tractors bring loads of dirt and sand to the large field in front of the school. Soon brick workers will be busy making bricks by hand. Five to six thousand per day! It is going to be my job to send occasional reports to Michael and the people who donated the money for this project. Things are starting to get busier here. That means that I am starting to have more energy. It is amazing how working will actually give you more energy.

I do however have a slight problem. I can’t turn my head to the left, or look up. I think this stiff neck was caused by the trip back from Puri io Juanga. The road is filled with bumps, holes, and even ditches. These ditches are large enough to have to drive a car into them, then out the other side. I am taking some medicine for my neck, but it doesn’t seem to be helping. It should be fine in a day or two.

There is another problem. I am reaching an impasse with Oriya. I have taken to start actually writing some of what I learn down, and when I ask for help in the spelling of certain words, 5 people tell me to spell it 6 different ways. The only solution I can see is that I must learn how to read and write in the Oriya alphabet. Learning a language is one thing, but a different alphabet… I am finding it difficult. They have many more letters and letter sounds than we do. It appears there are over 40 characters in their alphabet. I suppose I should just be happy it isn’t Chinese or Ancient Egyptian.

What was I thinking about?

I jump topics too much in my blog. I always start out writing one thing, but by the end of a post, I am somewhere completely different from where I started. It all makes sense as I write, but whenever I read my posts, I wonder what the hell I was thinking.

It is because my brain wanders, and I allow it to do so. Every thought I have leads to something I think is related, and then that thought leads to something else until my original thought was about rice for lunch, and I end up thinking about The Stand by Steven King. It all makes sense when I am thinking it, and even writing it. When I read it, however, I find myself barely able to remember how or why I went from one topic to another. Even now it is taking all my concentration to remain on the topic of going off topic.

I will now demonstrate a moment in the mind of William:

William: My foot is asleep.
Will: Remember when your foot was asleep and you fell into grandma’s pool?
William: Yeah, I remember.
Will: Remember when grandma’s didn’t have a pool?
William: Yeah… seems like a while ago.
Will: Remember the sassafras tree in the backyard, and the swing set?
William: Yeah, of course I remember that!
Will: Remember how you used to swing on the swings and jump off and see how far you could get?
William: I remember that.
Will: Remember when you twisted you ankle doing that?
William: Kinda.
Will: What about when you tore you ACL dancing?
William: I have the scar to remind me.
Will: Pain heals, chicks dig scars, glory is forever. What is that from?
William: Keanu Reeves as Shane Falco in the movie The Replacements.
Will: Yeah… can you imagine Johnny Fav directed Iron Man?
William: He did a good job, I think Robert Downey Jr. was a fantastic choice for Tony Stark.
Will: Stark means strong in German.
William: I really like German.
Will: What is your favorite German word?
William: Entshuldigung. It means excuse me. I just like the way it sounds.
Will: No one here in India says excuse me… ever.
William: I know! But its not like they are doing it to be rude, they just don’t have that concept in their every day life.
Will: It’s hot.
William: Well I am in India, during their summer. What did you expect?

In case you were wondering… every time my brain wanders here in India, I am guaranteed to ALWAYS come back to “It’s hot.” I hope my dialogue with myself has entertained you as much as it always entertains me.

Indian Cell Phone

For those of you who wanted my Indian Cell Phone number... I finally have it!!!

To call from the United States you need to dial as follows:

011 91 977 766 0706

I suggest getting one of those calling cards you can buy at most corner stores and using it to call me. It is much cheaper.

The other option is to use skype, which can be found at www.skype.com. You need to have a microphone and a highspeed internet connection to use it, but it is hands down the cheapest way to call me.

One Night in Puri and the World's Your Turtle

Today I finally made it to Puri to get some time with the internet. What I have been doing is writing my posts every day, and now I am posting them! I find that I enjoy writing more and more every day. I only wish I had something interesting to say.

Puri is a small city on the Bay of Bengal. It is filled with Hari Krishnas. This is one of their high holy cities because of the Jagganath Temple. This is a temple dedicated to a facet of Lord Krishna. So everywhere you look there is some weird white dude with his head shaved except a little pony tail singing Hari Krishna.

I am staying in a hotel called the Pink House, and no it is not called that because it is a place of debauchery and sin. It is called that because it is pink. It is right on the beach, and my room opens to sand and waves. It is really nice... especially for $4 a night.

I defeated the pigeons in my little war. I cleaned out their nest before they decided to start a family, and bricked up the air vent so they could not build another one. It was my nuke option, because it means that the air flowing through that vent is now decreased. In war, sacrifices must be made.

I think that writing this is helping me keep up the practice of using proper english. Most of the time over here I must speak in deliberate and short sentences. Saying words slowly so that people who do speak english understand me. For instance instead of saying:

"Hey! How about you and I go for a walk around the fields?"

I need to say:

"Want to walk?"

After a while, the way I tailor my speech becomes habit, one that I must break before returning to the western world, where people would think I was just plain slow.

All Around Me Are Familiar Faces Part Two

Babu is 19. He was unofficially adopted by the hospital when he showed up on the front steps with a broken leg that was not healing properly. He does have surviving family, but they let him live and stay at the hospital and go the the school that Citta sponsors because it is a better life for him. He is sly, and likes chasing the girls. He has an excellent frisbee arm, and is never far from his Bicycle. Lately he has started to grow a moustache, which just looks odd on him. He is an excellent spades partner.

Tapan is Babu's brother. He is about 12 years old. He recently came to the hospital and begged Govinda to let him stay there with his brother, and go to the school. He desperately wants to learn to read. Govinda of course agreed to it. He is great at cards, and is my favorite spades partner. He is helping with my Oriya lessons.

Utkal is Govinda's right hand man. He is in charge of the office and clerks. He is retired Air Force. He was a radar technician. His english is absolutely perfect, and is always quick with a joke. He has a wife and 2 children. Both are in college now, and both have very promising futures.

There are more people I hang out with, but if you want to know about them, ask me in person, I am tired of writing short biographies for now.

All Around Me are Familiar Faces

I realize that there is only so much I can write about how hot it is here. I do want to stress the point, however, that it is not just hot... it is very hot, and very humid.

I took a nice long walk today with Biku and Babu. For those of you wondering who all these people I mention are, I realize I have been a bad host. I have neglected to actually introduce you to any of the people I interact with here on a daily basis.

Govinda is the managing trustee of the hospital and school, and is the top of the chain of command here. It is his responsibility to make sure everything is running smoothly. He is in his 50's and has 3 sons. His wife died many years ago. He likes Bob Marley music, singing songs he made up himself, and worrying. He is a smart man who hates corruption with a passion. He works hard to ensure that the hospital serves the community, and always looks out for those less fortunate than himself.

Biku is Govinda's eldest son. He is 19 years old and will soon be studying to be a doctor. He plans to become a doctor and work at the hospital in Juanga. He is smart and kind. People in the USA are raising funds to put him through medical college. He has already passed the entrance exam, now he is just waiting on the funding. He is alot like his father in many ways. He speaks english very well, and is an excellent Oriya teacher. He is a good friend.

More on the people here tomorrow.

When Pigeons Attack

Day seven of my battle against the pigeons. I seem to be loosing this war. Every day the pigeons stranglehold on my room grows stronger. They have build a base in a vacant air vent in my room. This gives them a place to rest and regroup before going on more raids.

Making noise no longer scares them. I was foolish for making threats without immediately backign them up. They now think I am weak and unwilling to do what must be done to ensure victory in this war. I have begun sleeping with a weapon. I keep some five rupee coins in my bed with me to throw at them when they attack. I use the coins more as flak, something to discourage their bombing runs. If I fail to hold them off much longer, I will need to take extreme measures.

Yesterday during one of their raids they foolishly attacked my ceiling fan. There were feathers everywhere, but the pigeon somehow managed to get away. They coo ever so softly at me from the air vent above my desk, mocking me. I have tried shutting my windows, but all that does is make my room unbearably hot. They know I cannot keep the windows closed forever. So they sit, and they wait.

Every day, every hour brings me closer to attacking their base of operations. I have checked, so far no innocents would be harmed if I destroyed their construction project, but how long will that be true? If I wait too long, there will be "collateral damage," and I can't have that. I need to find a way to cut off their supply lines, or maybe block access to their base. I may be forced to call in a specialist on this one.

Shhh, I am Narrating.

I think I have a problem, but I am not sure. I have begun to narrate. I am naratting my life. Plain and simple. Everything I do I begin to hear my own voice describing it to me. For instance, this morning as I sat and ate breakfast, I found myself describing in disturbing detail everything that I was experiencing. This narration has become common enough of an experience that I have noticed it.

On top of it all, I do not like my narrative style. I find myself noticing and describing things that I find boring and unnecessary. I have heard of "finding your voice" as a writer, but the voice that seems to be finding me is one I think I would not like to read. I will say this for my narrator, he is getting better slowly. The way I think is slowly coming around to the way I think I think. If that makes any sense to you, please help me make some sense of it.

Maybe it is because so little is happening at any given time here. I find myself with so much time to just sit and think, that I have begun to fill those moments in my own mind. Is it possible that I am internalizing my experiences? What am I getting from this practice of narration? I have no clue. All I know is this, my own personal story teller has a long way to go before I pick up any book he has written.

Learn Your Own Language First, Then Try Something Different

My lessons with Biku are going well. I have learned more Oriya in the last week than I did the entire time I was here the last two trips. He has a solid understanding of English grammar, which makes it easy for him to describe Oriya grammar in a way I can understand.

I have always held the belief that the stronger you are in your native language, the easier it is to learn another. My knowledge of the parts of speech in english has made the transition to Oriya much easier than I could have hoped for If I had to learn the essentials of grammar AND another language.

I am still upset at Oriya for not having a form of "to be." I think it not having "to be" just means the language was too lazy to develop it. One of the other difficult parts of Oriya is conjugating the verbs. I suppose that is difficult in any language, but I am slowly learning the rhyme and reason to this language's particular ways. If only humans only existed in the here and now, without a concept of past and future, language would be alot easier.

To Be, or No To Be

I am have discovered my problem with Oriya. Something about the language always frightened me, and now I know what. They do not have a verb that means to be. For those of you who love language as I do, I will repeat that for emphasis. In Oriya, there is no form of to be. That means there is no I am, we are, or they are not. They simply do not have a way to relate existence as a verb. No To Be.

I discovered this during my daily lesson with Biku. I was asking him to teach me the pronouns in Oriya, figuring I would start where I learned any other language I speak. I would start with the simple phrase "I am." He said he couldn't teach me that. After aa few minutes of discussion I he came to realize what I was asking and told me there simply is no to be in Oriya.

Now that I understand that small little fact about this language, everything else is coming quickly. I am learning the forms of verbs, and how to properly make sentences. It appears that my biggest roadblock was simple existence, but now that that is gone, I am ready to learn more!

Getting Busy

I got busy today.

I spent a few hours in the office with the clerks seeing how things were going with the financial work that they were supposedly working on the 2 months I was gone. Turns out Quickbooks stopped working 2 weeks after I left last time. So absolutely nothing was happening. I checked on the calendar they were going to be using to keep track of important dates. Dates when information was supposed to be sent and the such. The calendar had never even been used. Oh well. back to the beginning.

In the afternoon I played frisbee with Chandu, Babu's younger brother, Biku, and some of the other village boys. It was bloody hot, and everyone was drenched with sweat by the end of our session. Maybe someday next week I can actually gather enough of them to play a game of ultimate frisbee. We will see.

I spent the evening talking to Manu about stories. about writing them, reading them, telling them, and any other kind of thing one does with stories. I truly love stories. The idea of it gives me pleasure. I like to listen to them as much as I love to tell them, and most of you know that I do love to tell stories.

I will hopefully have some interesting stories to tell when I return home.

Oriya Lessons

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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."

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Indian Moment

Today I had what Michael described as an "Indian Moment." I had a long day of Elephant riding and sight seeing at Amber Fort here is Jaipur. I had an overly spicy meal at a very good restaurant. I ate an extremely spicy chili pepper and burned my mouth. And after a few hours of walking through the markets, I kinda flipped out.

It was all internal. I maintained a huge grin on my face, but inside my mind I was screaming to myself to just get away from all these shopkeepers, rickshaws, tour guides, food vendors, and professional beggars. I just needed to get away from the markets, the noise, and the people. In case you are wondering I am better now. I got to my hotel room and recharged my emotional batteries. I am ready for round 2 out there in this strange and beautiful country.

One thing that really gets to me is what I call the white tax. Here in India there are many beautiful tourist attractions. If you are an Indian you can get into these attractions for 10-40 rupees. If you are from anywhere else in the world, you pay anywhere from 10-40 dollars. For those of you who are not up on current exchange rates that is 500-2000 rupees. If the price was low because they wanted to allow impoverished Indians access to historical or cultural works I would understand it. However even the Indian prices are prohibitive to the poor here. These prices are paid by middle and upper class Indians who make very good money. It is solely a price increase because of my status as a foreigner.

That is enough griping about India for today. The Pink City of Jaipur is beautiful. Many people here are very nice. I can't wait to come home and see snow.

That is all.

Jaipur

Here I am in Jaipur in a very nice (cheap) hotel. Things are going great over here except one thing. Travel in India right now is tough. Due to the Bombay bombings airport and all other types of security are on highest alert.

So yesterday I had my haircut at a "gents" salon. So Michael and I are getting a shave and a haircut and there are a bunch of women sitting behind us waiting. After a while a few drunken indian men enter the salon and start haggling with the owner of the shop. They point to 3 of the women and go into a back room. At this point Michael and I realize that we are not in a place dedicated to the styling and cutting of hair. Needless to say the rest of the shave was quite uncomfortable.

Went to Sashi's last night and had some fun times with Shammy her brother. He is back from Cuba to stay for a while. He and I went over to a local Pan shop and had a few of the normal non-sweet pans. This was only the second time I have had normal Pan. It kinda knocked me for a loop. The Beetlenut and whatever else they put in that stuff is strong.

Today we headed out to the Pink City, Jaipur. I finally saw an Elephant here in India. So my checklist is officially done. I saw a snake charmer in Calcutta and an Elephant in Jaipur. That is all I need to see. The snake charmer's snakes were so underfed and malnourished that he had to slap them to get them to wake up.

More to come later as I now have an internet connection that isnt 75 miles away over rough and rocky road.

Bomb-Bay

For all those that are curious, I am far away from Bombay and I am not being directly effected by the tragic events that occured there recently. I am leaving India on the 12th of December so I am not here for much longer. Please do not worry about me.

I hope everyone had a happy Thanksgiving, and I look forward to seeing everyone around Christmas time!

Puri

Here I am in Puri after a week at the hospital. Here in India it is difficult to feel like you accomplish anything, because everything you do, is going to be implemented after you leave. By you... I mean me. Everything I am working on here is going to be used in this nebulous future time that I am unable to participate in. It is very frustrating. Every time I feel like I am accomplishing something, I realize that I haven't actually done anything. For instance. One of my goals was to have better quality internet at the hospital. I had done alot of research and looked into alot of options. As far as I knew it was a done deal. However.... It turns out that the technology I was going to use is not available in this particular district of this particular state in India.

Very Frustrating.

However I am having a good time seeing all my old buds from the Hospital. Chandu is still playing frisbee. All the clerks are still insisting I teach them computer classes for a few hours every day. Govinda is still a great guy. Babu is doing well in school. The Mosquitos are still biting. Everything is going well at the hospital.

I have had some time for good thinking. India is a good place to clear your head of all the distractions of home. It is amazing how you can sit on the roof of the hospital and just stare at all the stars. There are A LOT of stars here. You can see the milky-way every night. It is so peaceful here.

Well I have to go and actually do some work other than sit on the beach getting a massage. Oh the hard life here in India...

Avoiding Riots, Kolkata, The Train, Puri

So we got out of Kathmandu right before the SERIOUS rioting started. It turns out that those innocent schoolk children are starting their own little revolution. I will try to find out more from my friends.

After a few hours in the Kathmandu Airport and a 1.5 hour flight (We spent more time in the airport than on the plane) we arrived in Kolkata(Calcutta). This town is old. I dont mean like ancient archetecture or big monuments with triple digit dates old. I mean old like everything seems to age there. The people, the buildings, the whiskey, the attitude... everything. It is really kind of run down, and the kids on the street are relentless.

As a greeting one of the little kids on the streets decided to run up to me and slap my belly. Unfortunately she was too short to quite get to my stomach so instead she punched me a little lower. Note to all the children of Kolkata that read my blog... punching someone in the groin is NOT the ideal way to introduce yourself.

So we only spent one day in Kolkata at the Paragon Guest house. Nice place filled with hippy travellers. We had lunch at this one really out there place owned by a British lady that I am pretty sure was stuck in the heyday of the empire. She had enough makup on to start and stop traffic if she blinked.

That night we headed out to the Kolkata train station... which is a sight to behold. This trainstation is about 4 airplane hangers worth of crowded people. It is a city unto itself. The trainride was rather pleasant. It was only 9 hours and at night, so we just slept and woke up in Puri.

Since we weren't going to the hospital right away, and had to meet one doctro from spain called Marta, we decided to go to the beach. The sun was warm, the water was cool, and the people were all trying to sell you something... Just like I remember the Puri beaches! Got a little bit of a sunburn, but at least in December when I come home I will be the only one with a tan!

Tomorrow we head off to the hospital, so this should be my last blog post for about 1 or 2 weeks.

Motadaii out (Motadaii is my Oryian nickname... means the same thing, different dialect.)

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but riots can keep me from the airport.

So I was going to India today. Probably still will be, but looks like I am going to be delayed. Today there are riots. As we were leaving our guest house, a group of 4 taxi's came down the street blaring their horns. We thought nothing of it until all the shops around us started shutting their heavy metal shutters.

Ahead in the distance we could hear a dull throbbing noise. We were on our way to the airport, and the only way to get there was to go to the Thamel taxi stand. As we approached it it was clear that stones were being thrown into shop windows, and students were chanting something in Nepali. The mob was disorganized, angry, and had weapons. They ignored the people in the streets and went directly for the businesses. Throwing rocks and any and all exposed glass. Finally one man stood on a soapbox and started issuing directions for the crowd. They throng of people began moving as one towards the center of Thamel. After they passed, the police began showing up in full riot gear marching methodically behind the crowd. The police did not appear to engage the rioters directly or try to provoke an attack.

This kind of stuff happens every day in Nepal. This was just the first time it happened close to me. They riot so often that the shopkeepers and restaurants have protocol that they follow. These bonds can happen over anything. Someone is hit and run and the driver won't come forward... Bond. There is a traffic accident and the two parties can't decide who is at fault... Bond. The students have a day off and are bored... Bond.

I was talking to Binod about these bonds, and he said he didn't mind them too much. He removed all the glass from all his shops, and as soon as the riot starts he closes his shutters and just waits it out. He told me that these organized destructive forces are the only way for anyone to be taken seriously in Nepal. He justified them as a necessary evil, and an extreme way to practice freedom of speech.

Hopefully the taxi's will return now that things have moved further away and Michael and I will be able to get to the airport on time.

Ke Garne?

Turkey Festorama

This is what I have been really been doing in Nepal

I am HUGE in Asia.

Tonight is my last night in Kathmandu. It is starting to get chilly over here. Temps in the low 50's during the day and low 30's in the night. And in one day time I am going to be going back to it being high 70's-80's. Yup! Finally heading down to Orissa. I am looking forward to seeing all my old friends down at the school and hospital.

Kathmandu has been great! There have been parts that weren't perfect, but everything was a little adventure. Meeting lots of new and (sometimes) interesting people is great, and it also teaches you something about people in general. People are People. I hate saying it like that, but I have found that no matter where in the world you are, and no matter how vast your cultural differences are, people really behave the same way the world around. I say this without ever having gone to Africa or China, but I feel confident in my assessment.

The views in this country are amazing. Simply wonderful. Lush valleys and snow topped peaks as far as the eye can see. This country is truly a trekkers dream come true.

Everything in Asia is designed for Asians. This proves to make MY life difficult. I am too big for some cars. Newari stores have a door that is 3 feet tall and 2 feet wide. Even Michael has difficulty getting into them. Crowds press in on all sides in the markets, most of the people barely coming up to my shoulder. That being said. I am HUGE in Asia. Like David Hasselhoff in Germany.

New Photos!

I uploaded a bunch of new photos. For those that are interested there is a link on the left side of the page.

Or you can just go here.

My Photos

Little Britain Coffee Shop

Sitting here in little Britain Coffee Shop with Michael. This is the first place we have found with free, fast, and reliable internet. Something I take sorely for granted back home. This post comes to you in a few parts. Some will be travel woes, so be prepared to hear me whine a little bit.

One thing that made me happy is I finally found out HOW I lost my debit card. Turns out the ATM I was at only returns your card after you hit 2 buttons. The first one being that you do not want another transaction, THEN it asks you if you would like your card returned. No Joke. The options are as follows. Return Card? Yes or No. Who would ever... EVER hit no? And if you do hit no, what then? Does the machine just eat your card? Questions I do not intend to ever find the answer to(Again).

Today we had a meeting with the Citta Nepal board members. They are all very nice people and seem like the want to be more involved in the Humla and Gaikhur project. I got to work with Sushila at the office during some of the meeting. Sushila is brilliant. No joke. She is an extremely capable woman. On top of maintaining the office and keeping things running here in Kathmandu, Sushila is about 8 months pregnant, and still hard at work.

One of Michael's problems in Nepal or India is finding dynamic and intelligent women to work or run the woman's center. Women here in Nepal seem to either be extremely outgoing and smart, or extremely conservative and shy. There appears to be no middle ground. Sushila is a rare breed in that she is down to earth and humble, and extremely capable.

Another woman issue Mike is having is this: He needs a woman who is educated, stylish, well spoken in both English and Nepali, AND able to do handicrafts. These qualities combined seem to not exist together. Either the women here are very educated, OR they are very capable in handicrafts.

Enough about the Woman's Center and on to my immediate future. Next Thursday Mike and I are heading out to Kolkatta, India. We will be spending one day there, and then we are off to Orissa. I have been in Kathmandu for (almost) a whole month! It feels like 6 months, or 1 week depending on what is going on at the time. Time has different meaning here. In the US time also feels varied, but it is different back home. There when you are busy or having fun, time seems to fly, but if you are bored and doing nothing, things seem to take forever. Here EVERYTHING seems like it takes forever while you are doing it. The trip from Thamel to Bhaktipur is only 8 miles, but it takes anywhere from 45 minutes to 1 hour, and feels like 5 hours. when working in the offices or working in an internet cafe, everything seems to take forever. The days seem so long and feel like they drag on and on. However the next day, yesterday's worries and troubles are passed in a blink of an eye. Every day here is fresh and new. I think that is what makes the time feel so different here.

Speaking of between days. I don't usually have dreams I remember, but whenever I am traveling, I find myself having the most vivid dreams. Most of it is processing my experiences from the day, but in really weird ways. For instance after one particularly long day I dreamed I was watching Cricket, and even in my dream, the match felt like it took 3 days. It is odd how the mind deals with information, or lack thereof.

The people here in Nepal are all so friendly. They give you personal space, always smile, and are generally very peaceful in their daily actions. Most people in Nepal seem to glorify a simple existence. The ideal of most people I have met is earn a little bit of money while young. And then return home to the family farm, get married, have kids, and work in the fields.

I apologize for jumping around so much in this post, but I have the time to just sit and type today.

This happened to me yesterday:

A man rode up to me on a rickshaw and asked
Man: "Rickshaw?"
Me: "No Rickshaw."
Man: "No Rickshaw?"
Me: "No Rickshaw."
Man: (Big smile) "Ahhh, Rickshaw!"
Me: "No Rickshaw."
Man: (Puzzled look) "No? Rickshaw?"
Me: "Rickshaw Na."
Man: (Big Smile) "Ah! Rickshaw?"
Me: "Ughhhhhhhhh...."

This continued a few more times until finally I just stopped engaging him. after him saying Rickshaw a few more times, he finally got the idea that what I meant was No Rickshaw.

I really hope everyone is having a good time back home! I miss almost everyone. Except Donnie. He never writes to me or calls me. I bet he doesn't even read this.

Motodaai Out!

Come to Nepal and See Bad Nordic Cover Bands!

So Saturday and Sunday I went to an Intro to Buddhism class near Boudha Stupa. The class was dedicated to the terms and simple ideas of Buddhism. It was essentially a class on terminology. So, although I did not come out of the class fully enlightened and aware of the scope of the universe and my place within it's cycle, I had a good time.

Things here in Nepal are finally starting to pick up their pace. When working here I constantly feel like I have accomplished nothing (I am pretty sure I haven't), but Mike and all the staff seem to think what I am doing is great.

It is a challenge because I keep trying to push things forward, and then after I have made progress, I find out that I need to pull back and start again, from a different angle, with different language, or in a completely different medium. Here in Nepal people will yes you to death, do things the way they need to be done while you are watching them, and then instantly slip back into the Nepali way as soon as you are not watching.

I am not saying that the Nepali way is bad, or inefficient. It is just that Citta is a multinational charity that has donors and Boards in many different countries. Most of the money comes from the western world, and because of that the methods that the local projects use need to be compatible with western ideas, communication, and transparency. Keeping information in a paper log book is fine, if you only need to record the information and deal with it locally. But the information about the Hospital budgets, expenses, Volunteer Data, and international orders needs to be able to be communicated in a clear and efficient manner to the US, Germany, the UK, and any other places where people donate their time or money to Citta.

Enough ranting about work. Last night Michael and I went to the Reggae Bar to see some Nepali friends that work there. We sat in our usual table over looking Thamel, far enough from the stage so we could talk. The Nepali cover band was great as always, and we had a few drinks and settled in. At about 10PM the band announces it is going to hand off the stage to another band. This alone was weird, but what made it even weirder was the band that took the stage was a bunch of white guys. Michael and I thought we were in for a treat.

It was not to be however because this new band of white guys immediately started singing the worst cover of "You ain't nothing but a hound dog" I have ever heard. This was the type of band you might find in a lounge in an airport Motel 6. So we started trying to guess where these guys were from. Michael took a shot in the dark and stated that they must be from Denmark. It seemed to make sense, but I decided to apply a little bit of critical thinking to the problem and asked myself a few questions. Where in the world is there a country of white people obsessed with American Culture, obsessed with music, and about 50 years behind the rest of the western world culturally. After asking myself these questions I came up with the only answer that made sense to me. Norway.

So we begin asking the staff where the band is from and no one has any clue. We had given up finding out until a girl with a HEAVY Irish accent comes up to the table and asks us if we want to sign a petition that will be sent to the government in an attempt to lift the 11pm forced closing of bars. We got to talking with her a little, and to our surprise she was a friend of the band, and from Denmark! She claimed the Irish accent was because her best friend was Irish, but I still don't believe she was from Denmark.

Anyway we asked her if the band was from Denmark, and to Mike's dismay they were not. They were however from Norway! After much celebration and libations we signed the petition (twice, Nancy Lanigan and Duane Reade also want the bars open later) and had a rather pleasant night.

Motodaai Out.

Motodaai

Its weird how after even just a short this place feels familiar. Kathmandu and Nepal has not lost it's charm, but how I view things have changed. I suppose I am quick to become accustomed to places. Because of my comfort level rising, I am finding it harder and harder to write about interesting things that happen here. Instead it feels like things are just happening. So I am going to try to talk about some of the interesting things I have observed during my now 2 week stay in this amazing country.

The first thing that comes to mind are the glue sniffers. These gangs of boys between the ages of 5 and 16 are all over the place in Thamel. Actually the seem to be located EXCLUSIVELY in Thamel. Here is the rundown on them. You see them sitting on the street breathing deeply from plastic bags. There are usually between 4 and 10 of them in any given group. And they have clearly established territories. They walk up to you one or two at a time and beg for money. Giving it to them is kinda pointless, because the moment they get a few rupees they dash off to a store and buy glue. If you instead offer to buy them some food they usually walk away or change what they want. See... They will ask you to buy something non-perishable so that as soon as you leave they sell the goods back to the shopkeeper for a little less than what you paid for it, and THEN they buy glue. Which is another part of the problem.

The shopkeepers are accomplices in their addiction. Actually most of the shopkeepers are in on any of the street scams that happen in Thamel. Another popular street scam is a woman will approach you clutching a baby. She will beg you not to give her any money, but please come with her to a store and buy some canned or powdered baby formula. Well if you buy it for them ($10) they will wait for you to leave, and sell it back to the shopkeeper for a nice little profit. After some snooping (and eventually asking Michael) it turns out that many of the women just share a baby to beg with, and hand it off after they have made enough money for the day.

Some other advice for the would-be traveler to Nepal, Don't get hit by a car/bus/truck. I know that seems like very straight forward advice, but here it can be even worse than just the injury received from an accident. In Nepal the law is if you injure someone in an accident, you must pay for ALL their medical bills until they reach 100% recovery. If you injury someone in a way that will require constant medical care, you will have to pay for that. However. However, if you simply kill someone in an accident, you only have to pay a flat price to that person's family. So, sometimes, when someone gets hit by a car/bus/truck, they will back over them, or try to hit them again just to kill them because it will cost them less in the long run! I repeat, DO NOT GET HIT BY AN AUTO IN NEPAL.

Last night I officially got my Nepali nickname. Here I am now referred to as Motodaai. Loosely translated it means Very Big Brother. Translated exactly it means Fat Older Brother. I actually really like the nickname because they don't mean the fat part in a big way. They are just unabashedly, totally, brutally honest here in Nepal. They tell you exactly what they think about anything. And there is no motivation behind it other than communication. David Driver (46) got the nickname Grandpa because he looked a little weary and hard-traveled.

Here they don't have the same sense of "proper" conversation that we have in the west. Actually I think we suffer from it in the west. Here what people think is what they say to each other. It lacks the complexity of western interpersonal relationships. The best way to describe the way they communicate is "refreshing."

Motodaai Out.

Cheap and Best

We headed out to Bhaktipur on Tuesday to do some work at the Woman's Center. I spent the entire day with Prakash, the manager/clerk of the Center. He is a smart guy who is really into his job. Actually he is a nerd, so we got along great. I showed him how to better use outlook and better keep his records in a western style. I also tried to institute the new communication system that Michael had me develop for Citta. So far so good.

After Bhaktipur we went to Roadhouse (again) but I didn't have the pizza this time. Had a few glasses of red wine and talked about The meaning of life, the universe, and everything. It was David's last night in Kathmandu so we decided to celebrate by going out to Reggae Bar and have a few drinks. Weeeeeeeellllll a few drinks turned into a few more drinks and a fun time was had by all. The music was really good, the staff was really friendly, and the drinks were cheap enough. On this momentous occasion, David officially Dubbed Kathmandu the city of Then, Now, and Tomorrow.

The reason we came up with this name was because Nepal is experiencing a political revolution, agricultural revolution, industrial revolution, sexual revolution, woman's liberation, Bad hair of the 80's, AIDS epidemic, rise of cellphones, and the Age of the Internet all at once. Kathmandu is like looking at NYC develop in stop-motion. Skyscrapers are being built next to goat farms. Marijuana is being smoked openly in bars that are forced to close at 11pm due to strict public policing. Cellphones are being used by people who don't know what a radio is.

Because of all this development, Nepal has some serious growing pains. Things in the west happened slowly, over time. In Nepal, everything seems to be happening all at once. Because of the rapid development here, the population does not have the (very little) wisdom of the proper use of technology we have in the west. Seeing some of the social policies and unspoken rules of Nepal has given me insight into the impact of technology on society. I am not passing judgment on the advances of civilization, I just realize that left unchecked, and without wisdom to accompany knowledge, the modern world can be a pretty intimidating place.

Wrap Party, Nepali Politics, Miami and Morocco, Don't Drink the Water

So the past few days have been very busy(fun).

Monday night was the wrap party for David's filming project. It was hosted at Cafe Mitra in Thamel, Kathmandu. This place has some amazing food, and a great atmosphere. I had the opportunity to talk to Renu Chatra, David's translator for his film, and starting that day she is a senior journalist at the Kathmandu Post. First day on the job and she got on page one. After many congratulations and some red wine I asked her to describe her perception of the political situation in Nepal. I figured if a senior journalist didn't have an opinion about it, no one would. Here is a run down of what information I was able to gather.

The Maoists essentially ran on the platform of we will fix Nepal and repair the shattered(and mostly non-existant) infrastructure. Renu was kind enough to remind me that what little infrastructure Nepal had was in fact shattered by none other than the Maoists. Despite their violent history, Renu felt that the Maoists were the best bet for the rural and more-backward regions of Nepal.

That being said, even though the Maoists control most of the 601 seats of their "Congress" They are essentially crippled due to the fact that they do not have an overwhelming majority. Due to this lack of voting majority, the Maoists have been forced to form alliances with other parties. The other 2 major players in the congress refuse to deal with the Maoists on principle, so the Maoists are forced to court the smaller WGF. The WGF is a brand new political machine in Nepal that was formed in the wake of the Maoist success. This party is largely located in the Terai region of Nepal, that realized its power and influence when it decided to completely cut Nepal off from all Indian imports for a few days. The Terai region of Nepal is the low flat land that shares a border with India, and most, if not all of Nepal's imports come through this region.

This interim government has a 2 year time-line to write a new Nepali Constitution, and they haven't even started. So Renu, and many other locals I have spoken to, are not optimistic about the way the government is heading, but they are happy for peace, and security.

After the wrap party, we joined a woman named Wanda for some drinks at a very stylish place called Thomas. White sheets hung from steel rafters, low lights and dramatic shadows, and low table with couches around it gave this place what David Driver described as a "Morocco meets Miami" feel to it. Good drinks, and even better company ended the evening on a very high note.

More to come, My stomach problem is back.

The Election (as not seen from Nepal)

One thing that I have been constantly thankful for on my trip here is that I have heard blessed little from McCain or Obama. Every time I see a headline with Obama or McCain's name in it I immediately turn my head away and keep walking. This is something I would not have been able to do in the US.

Most of the people who I have met here feel the same way I do. The election is going to happen, I have cast my vote, and I do not care anymore. I don't need to know who McCain is getting money from, or what Obama did as a child. It is not important. It doesn't matter. Have I said that it isn't important?

The reason is this. They have been campaigning for over a year. IF you don't know about the candidates now, you either a) don't care, b) live in Nepal, or c) live in the US, but under a rock.

I say all these negative things about the election, but in reality I miss all the hype, the illusion I used to have that any bit of information about the candidate was so important and necessary to my every day life. It took a few thousand miles, a few rounds of Puja with the local Porcelain Deity, and 2 weeks of detox, but I finally understand that the election has been over for months. The only thing keeping it going was the lack of a vote.

Here whenever someone is trying to sell you something they will ask who you are voting for. Its their way of getting you invested in them, and by extension, their product. Ahh.... reminds me of home.

Kathmandu Art Scene

So after a brief bit of work at the Citta Nepal office (This time without the overpriced Taxi) I arrived back in Thamel for some R&R. I am coming down with a cold, so R&R primarily means black tea with lemon and a nap.

A few hours later I am awakened by Michael Daube RUSHING into the room and telling me to get up we are going to an art gallery opening on the other side of the King's Palace.

Now.... I like art. I appreciate art. And I even like some of this guys pictures. However I am not an art gallery guy. Thankfully this was a gallery/cafe called Imago Del. Good food, nice atmosphere, and there was even a nice warm fire to warm up by.

I just hope this cold doesn't get the better of me.

On to some musings. I have been learning Nepali while here. And while it is VASTLY different from every western language, some things apparently never change. It was something I had learned from Anthropology, but until you experience it it is hard to internalize. People communicate more through their body language than their mouth.

Gestures reign supreme when you can't talk to people. And it is such a basic and pure form of communication that you can get a lot of information accross than if you wasted the time to try to teach each other the language. A few things to note about gestures in the east however. Shaking the head from left to right, while in America and most of the western world means "No." Here it is "Yes, Ok"

Another gesture that I find very interesting in Nepal is the 2 handed pass off. Nepali tradition states that it is considerd polite to hand someone something with both hands. That goes back many thousands of years supposedly. However in the modern day and age it has evolved into a new type of gesture. Now you are polite by touching your left hand to the inside joint of the elbow while handing with the right hand. You see it happening everywhere, and unless someone points it out to you, or you spend enough time here, you may just miss it.

Speaking of miss. I miss you all, but it is time to go for dinner.