Fish and Mangos

For the last ten days in March, I took a vacation inside a vacation and ventured to the southernmost region of the Indian subcontinent. Specifically the states of Tamil Nadu, Kerala, and Karnataka, about the latitude of Panama. I'd heard too much about the food, beaches, ancient temples, and over-the-top palaces to miss out on this part of the country. South India did not disappoint. My first impressions were of endless palm trees, the casual mix of mosques, temples, and churches, and the fact that almost every man I saw was wearing a skirt. I later learned that they are called lungis, which offer great ventilation in the sticky heat. My parents taught me to go "full native" wherever I visit, so a lungi was quickly incorporated into the wardrobe.

It was fiercely hot down there - which I had been warned about - but meant fewer tourist clowns like myself to deal with. This turned out to be a double edged-sword; the local trinket peddlers had fewer outsiders to keep them in business, so I got plenty of attention. Business is good - let me know if you need a straw hat or shell necklace. Here's a little bit about each spot with a few pictures:

Kanyakumari (Cape Cormorin)

They say that Kanyakumari, the last settlement on the mainland, is where three different seas converge: the Arabian Sea, the Bay of Bengal, and the Indian Ocean. You can watch the sun both rise and set over the ocean from the same spot. This is an undeniably picturesque location, "furnishing a sight unequalled in the world" as Ghandi put it. The whole town has a very unique energy; literally, it is a documented radiation hotspot. Two rocks emerge from the water off the shore - one the sight of a temple, the other a giant statue of an ancient Indian poet. Also, like many tourist destinations, the streets are lined with shops and aggressive salesmen. Hidden among them is the Kumari Amman temple, which is over three thousand years old and has a strict no-shirt policy. As a result of these sensational characteristics, many people make a spiritual pilgrimage to Kanyakumari - the end of the Indian world. 

 Kanyakumari sunrise

What it looks like at the very tip of India

The Mahatma Ghandi memorial building. A hole has been cut into the roof, designed so that once a year on his birthday, the sun shines right through onto the alter where his ashes were held before immersion into the ocean. Pretty neat

Vivekananda rock. In the late 19th century, a Hindu monk named Swami Vivekananda meditated on this rock for three straight days before traveling to the US to create awareness of Hinduism in the West. They built this temple in his honor

Giant statue of Thiruvalluvar, an ancient Indian poet and philosopher 

Varkala Beach

Hanging onto the edge of a cliff that surrounds a vast but naturally walled-in beach, Varkala is the kind of place where you arrive planning to stay for two days, then look back three months later wondering where the time went. The atmosphere is one of active relaxation - everyone is making an effort to be as laid back as possible. Varkala is also a bit of a Western oasis; it seems to have a magnetizing effect on eccentric Europeans. I met some truly fascinating people here, almost all non-Indians who had been here for a few months if not years. As you can imagine, the folks here are really easy to get along with, and after a few hours I was having beers with new friends from a dozen different countries. You could power up a jumbotron with the positive energy in this place. Three days of frisbee throwing, swimming in the ocean, and eating mangos sliced by a warm hearted local woman who sings the words "eating, eating, yum, yum" while you enjoy them. It's not difficult to see how you can get stuck here. 

Varkala beach from the cliffs

Indian side of the beach. There is a pretty clear separation between the local beach zone and the foreign zone, enforced by the lifeguards. This struck me as a little strange, but I gues it's necessary to avoid awkward cultural situations

Notice the fully clothed Indian women 

Now the half naked Westerners on the other side

Lifeguard calling it a day for the swimmers. The guy splayed out on the ground there has the right idea

Kerala Backwaters and Cochin

The backwaters of Kerala are a vast network of brackish lakes and canals that played a big role during the heyday of the spice trade. While the industry focus has shifted over the years, the area remains serene and beautiful. Many people must feel the same way because Alleppy, the jumping off point for most boat rides in the area, is overrun with tourism. Without any plans or reservations, I got completely bamboozled (unknowingly thrown into an overpriced trip) within minutes of disembarking the train. It was fine; a few hours floating peacefully through a tropical bayou is worth a few extra bucks. It's also necessary to step back sometimes and realize that "expensive" in India is very reasonable compared to most other places. I stayed that night in Fort Cochin, an old Dutch settlement made famous for its spices, essential oils, and variety of cultural influences.

It looks just like this for hundreds of miles

Getting from A to B the old-fashioned way

This picture is here to point out two things: one is that the villagers will do anything to attract tourists, including the ethically questionable domestication of dangerous birds of prey. The other is the fashionable lungi (man-skirt) he's wearing

Houseboat. These are the traditional boats of the backwaters, and are now used almost exclusively for tourism. They are everywhere

Fresh fish lunch on a banana leaf. These are tasty

I just like this picture

Chinese fishing nets of Fort Cochin at sundown

Cardimum, nutmeg, tumeric, star spice - a few of the many spices that put Cochin on the map

Front gate of a Jain temple 

A few steps away from this church is a mosque, a synagogue, and a temple

Spice Garden, Wayanad

Through a puzzling series of misunderstandings, I found myself in Wayanad, a rural "hill station" (high-elevation agricultural area) dotted with spice and tea plantations. I planned on visiting a wildlife sanctuary to see some elephants, maybe a tiger, but ended up here in the middle of the night after 13 hours of bus rides. I didn't realize that I was at the wrong Spice Garden guesthouse until I laid my head down to sleep, at which point I just giggled to myself until passing out from exhaustion. I made lemonade out of it though, and it turned out to be a highlight of the trip. The hard working family man in charge, Santhosh, was eager to show me around his property and make me feel at home. The food here was great, all served on banana leaves and straight from his farm. His dad is also a complete boss - we planted banana trees and shucked coconuts one morning. Glad I fell into this place.

The only elephant I saw the whole trip. Got this shot of him as my bus flew by

Spice Garden Guesthouse

Raju happily scaling the coconut trees. He reminds me of a video game character

A more frightening shot of Raju creeping through the shadows

I got up there myself with these cable-pulley tree climbing machines

Santhosh showing me aroud his property. Notice his sweet lungi

Collecting the rubber. They've got this setup on rubber trees all over the place

Rolling out the rubber into sheets that they store or sell

Typical tea plantation

The end of an unplanned adventure 

Mysore

Opulent. This is the all-encompassing word for Mysore, the royal city of South India. It's known for it's pure silk and high quality sandalwood oil. It was the capital city of a large kingdom for six centuries, so they know how to do it right. 

Mysore Palace

Typical South Indian temple artwork

I can't remember what this place is called, but they guy buried inside killed a tiger with his bare hands

Rows of colorful mounds of unfamiliar powders - exactly what comes to my mind when thinking Indian markets

 Banana salesman frustrated with the saturated market


Mysore Palace at night

That was a big one, thank you for sticking through it. I only have one month left here, let's hope I can make it count. 

HOLI

Totally soaked, exhausted, and covered with colors. This is how I drove home on Monday after 'playing' Holi with the kids at Manavya. Most everyone else I saw on the road that afternoon looked the same way. A celebration unlike any I have been a part of before, Holi is essentially a sixteen hundred year-old paint war among friends and strangers all over India. Mix the chaos of Mardi Gras with a country-wide water balloon fight and splatter everything with a rainbow of bright colors, then you get Holi.

Of course there is much more to it than what I've just described. The "festival of colors" is an annual celebration marking the end of winter and the coming of spring. A chance to repay (or forgive) debts, let go of grudges, and get rid of any regrets from the past year. Holi is recognized over two days, typically around the same date and always during the full moon phase. Day one begins at sundown with a spiritual ceremony and a large bonfire, followed by a day of slinging paint all over anyone around you while yelling "Holi Hai!" I first saw children playing in the streets at seven thirty in the morning, and by nine I had been slapped in the face by a random handful of orange powder and drenched with a bucket of pink water. Most of adults I saw tried to avoid this, but were ultimately dragged into the pandemonium against their will. Holi appears to transcend all social and economic boundaries - young, old, rich, poor - no one is safe from the colorful chaos.

This is an amazing tradition to see in India, but I am glad it only happens once a year - it's a week later and I am still cleaning the green paint out of my ears. The few photos I was able to sneak in between soakings are below.

As of now, I am visiting the southern state of Kerala for a week. It's a tropical paradise. When I get back to Pune, I'll tell you all about it. Come on back, ya hear. 

Slumber Party at the Orphanage

Last Wednesday I slept at our orphanage for the first time. Typically I stay in a comfortable apartment within the city, but that night Maya (the wise lady I live with) was having her old grade school lady friends over so she kicked me out. I guess they wanted to be up late and gossip without having to censor themselves. The people at the shelter often ask me to spend the night there anyway; I think the slumber party aspect is appealing to them.

What I didn't realize is that every Wednesday evening, a group of students from a nearby boarding school go to the orphanage to sing songs and play games with the kids. Cultured folks from all over the map and much more mature than anybody I knew in high school. The children loved them too, sack racing and egg tossing all over the place. Those future diplomats served me up with a nice plate of humble tikka masala, but after they left it was all me again. Then came my first spiritual ceremony. We all took off our shoes and stood around a small temple in front of the orphanage. A large speaker blasted gorgeous music while everyone clapped and sang along for a while. Afterwards, each person enveloped their faces with the smoke from a single flame, then took a pinch of sugar from a small brass bowl at the alter. That was that. Short and, well, sweet.

At this point I saw the serious face of the children and staff. They had a very disciplined role-call into a deep meditation session. Adorably, a few of the kids relaxed so hard that they fell asleep. I am sure they do this every night, I'm just not used to seeing this side of them. Afterwards we all sat in a circle for dinner. I can't sit cross-legged for hours or eat the way they do, so this meal was a particularly awkward one. I got through it though, and after eating more rice than I ever thought possible (clean-plate club is mandatory), they showed me to the top floor of the orphanage hospital where I would rest for the night. It was as spooky as it sounds, but everyone was super nice and excited that I was there so it wasn't all that bad.

One more noteworthy event: I got pulled over for the first time on Sunday. It was all my fault; I had no idea that some bridges are off limits for two-wheelers. I cannot be expected to handle one machine, avoid other machines, and pay attention to street signs all at the same time. Either way the cop was waiting for me on the other side, telling me to "pay the fine and take the receipt, man." When he asked what I was doing here, I told him and he cut the fine in half. A compassionate man indeed. I never saw a receipt, but I did realize that in India, no fine is set in stone.

An assortment of photographs, including a few from that night:

An old man scrubbing his oxen in the river

Hard at work while another farmer with looks on. Amusingly, lots of old men color their hair bright orange like that

Ladies doing the laundry while the men watch

Mom's washing my clothes, might as well jump in this river

Losing composure when realizing what is happening here. Felt like some kind of sick rice club initiation

I just want to fit in

Stubborn livestock

Health clinic stop at the village temple

Acting out Shiva's multi-armed wife at an outdoor musical. I was on the way here when I was pulled over

This coming weekend, India celebrates Holi, one of the year's biggest festivals. I'll let you know how it turns out. Thanks for being here.

An Oblivious American in Mumbai

Last time I mentioned that I was en route to Mumbai for the weekend. Two days to experience what is referred to here as "The Maximum City." I knew it would be overwhelming, but I was naive enough to think that my three weeks of adjusting to India was preparation enough. This was like walking into a classroom expecting a quiz and getting the final exam. Dorky analogy aside, I didn't know what I was getting myself into.

The trip was a turbulent mix of seeing the sights and trying to experience real life in Mumbai. I began day one by honoring an important American stereotype at Starbucks. Next stop was the Gateway to India, probably the single most touristy spot in Mumbai. Immediately upon arrival I was accosted by dozens of people offering private trips around the city. With no time for indecision, I hired the least abrasive salesman to show me around southern Mumbai. I'm not sure I would characterize this as a tour; it was me and this guy named Dilip cruising around town for a few hours. We got out at a few locations, namely Dhobi Ghat (the largest open-air laundromat in Asia), Colaba fishing village, and Mahatma Ghandi's home/museum. These were fascinating places, but my Indian counterpart's English left a lot up to my interpretation. After paying Dilip more than I am prepared to admit, I spent the remainder of the day exploring - alone and surrounded by people at the same time.

A highlight of the weekend was visiting Dharavi, one of the world's largest slums. This was an organized tour, unlike my escapade with Dilip the day before. Everyone in Dharavi slum is constantly on the grind, and you can't help but feel completely alive while experiencing the sights, sounds, and smells of this place. Their ability to utilize resources and essentially create an informal economy is truly impressive. The people there are not all poor - the annual turnover in Dharavi is north of half a billion dollars - many choose to live there because of the close-knit community. And I assume the tax laws are flexible. Lots of people find slum tourism exploitive of the less fortunate, which is often the case, but our tour company uses the majority of their revenue to support an education-based NGO they started there. So this was the least ethically questionable way to see the place. I made two friends during this tour: A British fellow named Ben and Urban the Slovenian economist. The three of us spent the rest of the weekend trying to fit in at fancy hotel parties and night clubs. It was good to be around a few other foreigners and see a completely different side of the city - I also spent more money on this night than the past three weeks combined.

If I were graded on my overall performance this weekend, I would have passed. F+. Mumbai is such a multi-faceted city, a solid plan of attack and much more time than one weekend is essential. The best way to visit is with a local, no question.

There are only a few pictures, mainly because I was such a tourist already, I did not need to force the issue with a big clunker around my neck. 

The Gateway to India

Outside of the Colaba fishing village

From above Dhobi Ghat

Power wash

 Jain temple in Malabar Hill

Enjoying a few doritos stolen from an unsuspecting tourist

Front side of the Gateway to India. Taj Mahal Palace Hotel in the background

Cchatrapati Shivaji train station

Thali - a whole mess of tiny bowls filled with vegetables

Thanks for coming back, always great to see you.

Malaria Pills Make Strange Dreams

Thursday, February 27: Hello there! Welcome back. As I write this, a train is taking me to Mumbai for the weekend. Actually I'm watching the sun go down over the hills and villages we're passing by, and the only word that comes to mind is breathtaking. But this will be my first time to visit the city and I don't have many friends there yet; I just couldn't let everybody in New Orleans 'rage' for Mardi Gras while I eat leftovers with my seventy year-old roommate. Anyways, now that we're both here I might as well bring you up to date on what I've been getting into.

Me and the folks at Manavya are getting along great. When we're not telling jokes (they may just be laughing at me, not real sure), they keep me busy between the orphanage and the admin office. In the office I am mainly editing various English documents, since they have never really been before the eyes of a native English speaker. The idea is that a cleaner document will be more appealing to the international donor/grantmaker. I've also taken tons of pictures of these kids, so the plan is to use a few of those to freshen up the website and Facebook page. At Gokul (the name of the orphanage) I'm giving informal English lessons to the kids and staff, fielding all manner of questions about life in the United States, and getting some basic cultural exchange going. I am learning a ton from the women and kids here every day. Their ability to stay upbeat, happy and hard working in the situation they're confronted with simply blows me away. Pretty inspiring all the time.

On the weekends I'm able to get outside and hike around the area. Pune is situated right between the Deccan Plateau and the Sahyadri mountain range, so there are lots of interesting places to explore. This includes countless military forts from past dynasties and rulers of the region. So far we've visited two forts and some Buddhist caves, all apparently dating back to around the second century BC. From what I've been told, there are more than 300 of these forts strewn about the mountains around here, so there's still plenty to discover.

In case you were wondering:

- Locals continue to laugh at me when I eat because I'm not doing it right

- I would still describe the language barrier as strong to quite strong. I've thrown a few more words and phrases into the rotation, which keeps people happy but that's about it. Reading and writing at this point, just get out of here

- I'm keeping it together on the motor scooter, but it's still terrifying and feels like a high stakes virtual reality video game

- As mentioned earlier, these malaria pills are giving me some pretty bizarre dreams. Sometimes they're exciting, sometimes traumatic, scary, or really fun, but always emotionally exhausting. I've started a dream diary to keep a record of what I remember.

Before we go our separate ways, let me tell you about something I've discovered called Laughter Club. This is a group of about 15 eighty year-old men that meet in a wooded park near where I'm living. Every morning, they circle up and engage in 21 different light exercises, each one involving some form of laughter. In one exercise they position themselves like they are drawing a bow, making uniform laughing noises as they pull back the 'string,' then erupting into laughter as they release. Another they call "mobile laugh," where they put their hand to their face like they are laughing into a cell phone. Then they say "popular laugh: Chinese laugh!" and they all get in each other's faces and make loud, high pitched laughing noises. In one exercise they jump in place 100 times, while uniformly clapping and laughing. The only exercise that doesn't require laughter is the 'lion's roar,' where they all lunge at each other and roar until they are out of breath. These exercises are done in the same order every day, each one repeated three times. This all lasts only about twenty minutes, and at the end of every session, they all yell in unison "We are the happiest people in the world! We are the healthiest people in the world!" Then they jump around in a circle, clapping and repeating "East or west, laughter is the best!" in various silly voices. I have participated three times so far, and while the laughter is more or less a forced breathing exercise at first, it always turns into genuine belly laughter. It is a terrific way to start the day.

I'll leave you with another handfull of photos that I've made since the last time we were together:

Beyond the walls of Lohagad, one of the many ancient forts around here

Enjoying some tea with our ambulance driver. I'm doing at least a half dozen cups a day over here

A goat herder tending the drove outside of a slum in the middle of the city. Our mobile health clinic visits this slum and one other on Saturdays

Same place, but from the inside

Main building of Deccan College, where they write the Sanskrit to English Dictionary. There is a large number of colleges and universities in Pune, which is why it is referred to as the 'Oxford of the East'

View from the top of Sinhagad, or 'Lions Fort,' about 25 km from Pune. You can vaguely see the city in the top left 

A gentleman at the top of Lions Fort explaining some history 

Bhaja, the ancient Buddhist caves

Chandni assuming a thoughtful, yet disarming pose

I fall asleep and the children harass me

From the top of Lohagad fort  

Monkeys on the temple wall in India. Now that's exactly what I'm looking for

Heart check at a pediatric health camp Manavya put together in a nearby village

Post check-up. Looks like they just want a sucker, not sure if they do that in India. I'll get on it

Whap

He doesn't know it, but Vishal's about to get tagged with some bunny ears

From the look of it, this incredible man is teasing his mustache with his own toes

Maya taking a quick breather after our hike up to the fort

Saw my first Indian monkeys this past weekend, now I want you to see them

Thanks again for taking the time to check this out, I hope you're enjoying it. Take care.