Home again, home again, jigitty jig

Feb 1

It's dark. Something has changed. The train has stopped moving. What time is it? I peer groggily at my clock. 6 AM. Oh my God, it's Preshanthi Nilayam or maybe not, maybe its Anantapor. I struggle my bags down the passageway and peer out into the darkness. There is a sign there, but I can't read it. My glasses, under the pillow, rush back, try to locate my compartment, if this is Puttaparthi it's a very short stop. Find the glasses, rush back, still can't read the sign, it's all in Hindi and Telegu so I call out to a guy on the platform, is this Preshanti Nilayam? Yes, it's the conductor, good, the train won't move off until he gives the all clear. I can get my bags off without breaking an arm. Of course there are no porters, they are all up at the entrance gossiping with the taxi drivers. The little wheelie is fine but that big bag won't steer worth a damn, I make my wavering way up to the entrance and all the porters and taxi drivers wake up and mob me at once. I'm back.

Good to have my own apartment to come to and not have to get off the train all buzzed out and groggy and try to find a hotel.

Well, that was interesting, not at all what I expected. And I still have to get up to Goa and do some business in the near future but I'll do it the easy way and just fly out of Bangelore. Meanwhile, back to work here in Puttaparthi. I have to get a bed and mattress to put my new sheets on.

My internet connection works again. Have to go down to the shop and ask why it would not on the road. Suposed to have a roaming feature. Have yo find out why that is not working for me.

Train time

Jan 31

I head down to the railway station two and a half hours early determined that if that wait list ticket can't be confirmed I am going to head out to the Volvo bus stand and book on to the next bus to Bangelore even if it doesn't leave until evening and I have to rent a hotel room for the day. I need some sleep. People were partying, loud voices, feminine squeals, loud TV until after four in the morning. I just wish they had been doing that the night before when police came waking me out of a deep sleep to check if I had a man in my room. Get it all over at once. Not a great hotel.

Anyways, enough said, I am in a foul mood. I guess it shows, even the guy at the ticket desk looks first abashed when I ask if I am going to be taking this train or getting my money back and then relieved when he checks his terminal and finds there is a berth for me. Glad I'm there early, have to wait for the train doors to be unlocked, but I am first on the carriage and have space and time to haul the little wheelie out of the big bag when it turns out it is too fat to fit under the seat.

I'm alone for a while, then while I am eating lunch the conductor puts a young couple with a baby into the compartment. Works out great. I finish lunch, baby finishes bottle, I crawl up into my berth and sleep, baby sleeps, parents sleep. Turns out they had a late night too. They are a young NRI couple in Visag for the lady's sister's wedding. They live in California. So odd to hear that soft American accent in India. Such a nice little baby, so quiet and content, five months old. The baby in the next compartment is the exact opposite, the journey is punctuated by frequent shrieks of childhood outrage. When the father brings her for a visit I can see why, bouncy bouncy, push her face up into strangers faces, squeak squeak with the toys, this poor kid is so overstimulated she doesn't know whether she is coming or going. Can't be still for a second, wiggles and squirms like a eel non-stop. She even falls off the seat onto the floor in the next compartment. I wince. Serious wails when she finally gets her breath back from that one. Meanwhile the little boy just smiles and gurgles, waves his legs about and snoozes through everything.

Chance Encounters

One way or another it is my last evening in Visag. Went down to the Train station the morning to check the status of my ticket. Still waitlist 1, no one has dropped out yet so I have to start thinking of alternate strategies. If I'm still waitlisted an hour before train time tomorrow I'll just get my money back and go book on one of the Volvo busses, I'm tired of waiting around.

Kind of frustrating day today. Got a lift down to the beach, far end near that sub parked on the beach, wanted to do a tour of that. No chance, the exhibit doesn't open until two. Then lunch at the Dolphin, another five star I like to stop into for a beer, a bite and some serious air conditioning at noon. Waiter asks me if I am free tomorrow evening. He's starting a new hobby, taking people on tours of Visaskhapatnums local attractions. Would have done it anytime this week end but I'm going to be on a train or bus tomorrow. I'll look him up next time I'm in Visag.

Did have a couple of interesting conversations down on the beach. A young man came by with a group and approached me. He told me he was a Christian minister and was coming down to the sea to do some baptisms asked if he could come back and talk to me afterwards. I said sure and soon he came back to tell me his tale. He used to be a Hindu, worshipped false idols, hung around this Christian church and criticized the music. Eventually he went into the church became a convert and started his own ministry. I told him I'm not religious; I believe it creates disunity by focusing on differences instead of what is common to all humanity. I was however impressed by his quiet, simplicity and obviously joyous involvement with his local community so I gave him 500 Rs just because I liked his aura.

A little further down the beach another man approached me. He had a scrap book of photos and text documenting his involvement with several gurus in the Himalayas and asked me if I wanted to become his family friend. I wondered if his wife would be quite as enthusiastic about dragging a beer drinking, cigarette smoking foreign woman in as a family friend without a little discussion first so I graciously declined, but promised if I knew any groups in Canada who needed workshops in meditation and yoga techniques I would recommend him. Two faces of Indian spirituality, the contradictions are always in your face here.

I'm getting myself a decent bed made as soon as I get back to Puttaparthi, I'm always afraid I'm going to fall off that skimpy little cot I'm using now. So when I noticed a big household linen supply place I went in and bought some sheets. The salesman tried to talk me into a poly/cotton blend because they don't need ironing but with dobie fees at 3 rupees an item I feel quite all right about indulging my love for the feel of crisp freshly ironed white cotton sheets, just like when I was a kid. $30.00 for four double bed size sheets and two single sized sheets, 100 % pure cotton, solid and substantial. Cut them right off the bolt, the in-house tailor ran up the hems while I waited. I like the way some things are done in India. Visnakhaputnam may not be well known for cotton but you can sure get some nice stuff here.

Out of the woods (I hope)

Railway station again today. Got down there about 11:15 and experienced this sinking feeling as I saw the line to the token counter snaking away across the parking lot, a feeling not enhanced by the big sign over the door saying the ticket office closes at 14:00 hours on Sundays and holidays. Surprise, ripped through the token line with minutes to spare before they shut down that window at twelve. Indian officials can be such sadists. Ten minutes before twelve I was the second in line when the lady behind the counter took off to enter a lot of stuff on a computer, leaving us all to wonder if she was going to come back before shift end. Indians cannot handle this sort of stuff. The ones behind me became frightened and started cramming their arms and fistfulls of paper under the glass, waving them at her frantically. Luckily I was one of the few others she gave numbers to before slamming down the wicket.

And luck it was, only forty people in front of me this time and a whole two hours to go before they shut the place down. Piece of cake. Took waitlisted ticket one, I felt it was pretty good odds at least one person would bail before traintime. Now I can figure out how this business of changing a waitlist ticket to a confirmed ticket works.

And I have finished the newspaper. Gives me two days off to do tourist things and go hang out on the beach in the morning, take some photos.

I suspect the whole railway station scramble had a lot to do with the celebration of Republic Day on Friday. Probably a lot of people using the stat to grab a long weekend with relatives.

Now I have my own India train booking story

So far I have been lucky. When I want a train ticket I just go down to the station and buy one. Today I had one of those experiences other people talk about traveling in India.

Went down to the station to get my ticket. Stood in a very long line to get a token to go up to the window and submit my requisition. Waited watching little green numbers flicker on a television monitor while the guys behind the counter chewed through the 350, (I'm not kidding) people ahead of me, over lunch hour and into the afternoon. I already had found out that I had to travel down the coast and catch the train to Vasco de Gamma at Vijidawada. I was quite loking forward to a cross continent drive behind that salt encrusted behemoth. Alas, it was not to be. After much to and froing between three different counters it was finally established that the only ticket I could have was waitlisted with eleven people ahead of me, or I could wait until the fourteenth. Didn't want either, will fly from Bangelore, but might as well go all the way to Puttaparthi and drop off my very large new Indian style suitcase first. (It's got my snazzy little airline wheelie inside it.)

Left the hotel at 10 am, reached a bar and downed a Kingfisher by four thirty. I needed that, buying train tickets is thirsty work. Tomorrow, something simple, one train, already know the name and number or else I take a bus. I like Visag fine but I don't have any relationships going here so it's not someplace I want to stay for a really long time.

One good thing, decided to get serious about the ATM issue. Wrote down a list of all the different bank ATM's I have used in India and told the rickshaw driver,

"I want to visit every ATM in town till I find one that works."

Disapointed him terribly that I hit paydirt on the first try, and found a new brand of ATM that works, and in Vishakaputnam, bonus. So my card is ok, it's just the Syndicate Bank machine in Puttaparthi that is wonky. That's good to know.

Onward!!!!!!!!!!!

Onward to Visag

Jan26

Bit of a panic this morning. I could not get on the train I wanted at Gunter Junction, had to catch it one more stop up the line which meant catching another train at Gunter to go intercept it. Buying the ticket was easy enough, 13 rupees, and the directions were simple enough. Show up at 4:30 am. That was where simple ended. Got there at 4:30 and the helpful guy at information looked non-plussed when I asked what track to go to to catch a train to this one stop up the line. He said that the express to Vishakaputnam had gone by at 3:30. I pointed out where my ticket instructed me to board at Vijayawada at 6:55.

A by-stander suggested track three and he agreed. I went to track three. There was a completely dead train sitting there all locked and dark with numerous Indians attempting to gain entrance through every possible door and window. Finally a group did find an open door and got on to sit in the dark. This seemed like an odd way to do business. I guess I looked non-plussed enough that a guy asked me if I knew where I was going. I told him Vijayawada Junction, to intercept the Presanthi Express. He said this is the Golkerna Express, the train you need is on track four. So off I go to track four, where a train coming all the way from Vasco de Gama over on the other coast in Goa is just pulling into the station. Indian rail officials are like cops, thick as theives when I am trying to sneak a cigarette but never there when you need one. Finally I went way down the train to the reserved section and asked a guy hanging about catching a quick puff if this train was going to Vijawada Junction. He said, that's one stop up the line, just grab the porters seat and come along. A few other guys with brief cases got on and stood in the passage and off we went. Nobody to check tickets or anything. Got to the stop 20 minutes before the Preshanti Express pulled in. The Golkerna train came in ten minutes later, so the dead train would have worked as well. There was a notice by the door that a special train had come through at 3:30, express to Visag, but not the one I was catching so I guess that was what the confusion was about. I did a little praying that the train would come in on track one so I wouldn't have to haul my luggage up and down more steps, and merciful heavans, my prayers were answered. After that it was a pretty uneventful journey. Nice chat with an Indian real estate mogul in Houstan Texas. 150 apartment buildings, can you imagine? Then caught a few hours of catch up sleep before Vishakapatnam.

I like Visag. 250 rupee rooms are easy to find and it is an interesting town to go for a walk in. It's situated on both sides of a rocky hump sticking out into the sea. One shore line is naval base and container ship port and the other is public beach. The city streets run up and down and over this promontory.I always get lost. You can go do a little beach time if you want. It's a city beach, not a resort beach, no swimming because of the rocks and undertow and the beachside ammenities run to lots of statues of famous Indian's and some odd fantasy creatures rather than beach shacks and restaurants. They even have a submarine beached on the waterfront you can tour. Not a lot of lounging about on the sand slurping down beer on this side of India. But the sea air is still lovely and it's wonderfully cool at this time of year. No, I didn't take all those photos today, I'm not that much of an overachiever. Those are from last year.

There is an emporium there that has the most wonderful hand woven and hand printed cottons. This is the only place I have seen selling them, bought a whole bunch of huge bedsheets for 350 for the doubles and 150 for the singles. The guy remembered me from last year, gave me his card if I ever want him to ship me some. Got some wonderfully embroidered cotton dress goods and short and long men's kurtas in that wonderful cotten. I has so much character and texture in the hand. I love it. Then I went down and splurged 550 rs on a meal at the Taj, one of India's five star chains. They have amazing food and world class service. Even their coffee is wonderful, wish I could afford to check in one day.

Wanted to find out what it would cost to fly to Goa, guy at Air India told me, forget it, the airport has been closed for seven days because of fog with no end in sight. So I guess it's the train again for me.

And so, back to my cubical to work some more on the newspaper.

Tomorrow I am going to grab a rickshaw and hit every ATM in town and see if any of them will give me money after I figure out the train stuff. I'd love to buy more cotton, and the huge Indian suitcase I'm going to need now to carry my prizes, but I don't want to arrive broke in Goa, still have to get back to Puttaparthi.

In Transit

Jan 25

This morning I went to get tickets onward from Gunter. Glad I was not trying to do it in a hurry or with luggage. They have an odd but effective booking system. The local booking and information system is on the east side of the tracks. It is an incredible zoo with hundreds of people pushing and shoving to get their tickets for the local comuter services.To get bookings for the long haul trains you have to cross the tracks via the underground concourse, up out and way down the street, past the post raj palatial splendor of the Section chiefs quarters and to the other booking office on the western edge, of the station property. It is effective, if you are not carrying luggage, because that booking office is quiet without much in the way of lineups, unlike the scrum on the local platform.

So, I can get a train tomorrow, same one I got off yesterday, but that berth isn't vacated until the train reaches another station about an hour down the line. Back all the way across the tracks and buy a twelve rupee ticket on the same train I took up to Repalle leaving at 4:30 am tomorrow. I booked A/C 2 tier even though it is just an eight hour ride during the day and I could do it in a chair car or bus because in A/C 2 tier there is a pretty good chance I can lie down and get some of the stress off the old coccux for part of the journey, (and catch a little snooze to get over that 4am wake up call before the whole train switches into day mode.) If I had known how this was going to play out beforehand I would have been able to do the whole stop over on a break-of-journey ticket for much less money.

I find that the local people have as much trouble understanding my accent as I do their's, so am writing my questions down, makes for much faster comprehension. Everybody, even railway people are very patient and helpful. That is unusual, they always seem pretty stressed out.

Well, off for my day of exploring Gunter.

Did my usual random walking tour. Ended up circumnavigating the railway station instead of bisecting it as I did earlier this morning. Very strong Christian presence here. Big Cathedral, lots of different Christian themed institutes. Looks like they have been around for a while, an old building reminiscent of Goan churches now houses another institute. tried to take a photo of some roadside dhabbas and had the usual street urchins pop up and demand to be in the photo.

I was looking for a restaurant where I could sit down under a fan. Found two but I was half an hour to early for them, lunch at twelve. Decided when I got to a familiar corner just to send room service out to get me something and eat it under the fan in my hotel room.

I think I will spend the afternoon working on Edmonton Street News, take a nap, and head out for dinner when it gets a little cooler.

In India anything can happen, and usually does.

Jan 24th

Finally got some rupees in hand. I e-mailed a money transfer from my bank account in Edmonton to my friend Remi, a commonplace procedure I have done many times before. He took rupees out of his Indian account and gave them to me. Remi is really into doomsday and conspiracy stuff so over and over again he warns me,

"You trust technology too much, you are going to loose your money!"

Sure enough, he checks his email twice that day and still the email he has to respond to to be able to put money into his account has not arrived in his in-box. It's gone from my account and I get to hear many warnings that all this teck stuff will soon pass away, Shiva is rising to destroy the world.That is what Babba is doing in Chennae. Next morning I check the status of that transaction, my bank tells me that the email has been recieved but noty responded to, so I check his e-mail account myself. Nothing in the in-box but there the little bugger is, hiding in Junk mail. Funny how the universe sometimes tries very hard to give you exactly what you ask for. Anyway, finally get it sorted out, I don't loose my money and the world doesn't come to an end. I don't know if Remi is happy or sad about this.

I still do not know if the problem is with my card or the machine. Talked to another Canadian, her Royal Bank card stopped working, perhaps all of us canucks are being frozen out by changes in banking protocol or some sort of financial treaty. Hard to understand some Indian processes. Will try the card out in Vishakaputnam in some banks that have worked before that they don't have in Puttaparthi..

Have an uneventful train ride and transfer to local train up to where Ram's wedding is to be held in Repalle. Ram meets me at the station.

"Did you get my message? My grandmother passed away yesterday".

The wedding is now a funeral. Wow! That's harsh! I say what I can to offer comfort to the family and try as much as possible to just stay out from under foot. It's not a good time for visitors.

So I will continue on my planned itinerary, go up to Visnakaputnam and then to Goa a little earlier than planned. I can zip back up when Ram's wedding finally is celebrated, now I know how to get here.

And my internet isp is not picking up. This account is suposed to have roaming but neither Ram's text message arrived or my internet connection connected. We may just be too far away from a microwave tower here. Or I may just be out of time, though that's hard to believe.Will try it later at Gunter and find a Reliance shop and ask what the problem is.

Andrah Pradesh is often called the rice bowl of India. In this part of the state you can certainly see why. The fields are flat, lush with crops, rich with water. The green is incredible, soft and lush and rich. In the evenings sea mist rolls in from the Bay of Bengal The air is soft with moisture.. Hundreds of large haystacks dot the cleared fields, not those rocky stupas that give Puttaparthi it's name, "Anthill".. The cows loll in the street plump with water and sleek. The little town of Repalle is beautifully clean with totally reasonable traffic. It's a beautiful, colourful, prosperous looking little place, mainstreet about a mile long I'd estimate. Ram says his extended family loves coming back to their native place for holidays with the family. It is his mother and late grandmother's home.

At the train station people came over to tell me that they believed in Christ and ask if I was a missionary. It was spooky, they were standing around two deep. I felt very self concious about all the attention. Hey Rainbow, one lady asked me to take her back to Canada to peel vegetables!

Ram told me I should be able to get a good hotel room in Gunter for 100 rs so I decided to splash out and get one for three hundred. very nice room, just perfect for my needs. Now to find out how long it's going to take me to get a ticket to Vishakaputnam.

New India

Yet more adventures with Indian technology. Went to the bank day before yesterday to try to get some cash for my trip with my bank card at the ATM machine. No luck, transaction times out. This can just be an international connectivity issue, happens sometimes, but I have a secret fear. Brousing through the support material for my new phone I have seen a warning to not carry it in the same place as bank cards or anything else with a magnetic strip with data on it. Of course I read this is after carrying my phone in the same purse as my bank card.

No panic yet, another lady tells me the machine wouldn't respond to her credit card. But it could be a real hassel. Lost my card to purse snatchers last trip, had to get my daughter to send me cash via Western Union for the rest of the trip, very inconvienent and expensive for both of us. My bank is so paranoid about identity theft they will not issue a card unless I go to one of their bank tellers, and it better be at my home branch because it takes them days and days to validate a request from out of town. Went through all that in North Vancouver when I got back last time! No chance of them couriering a new card to India.

Next day, back to the ATM. Same result. Now I can start to panic a little. I have a low daily limit on my card so I was planning to take out that limit for three days prior to the trip because where I am going is pretty rural and there is a good chance that there are no ATMs. So I have lost one of those days now and it's the weekend, not much chance of anything being done to the bank machine until Monday, if that is where the problem is.

It's a bad time for this to happen. Remi took off for a yatra in Chennae yesterday. He has an account in the same bank as I do in Edmonton, an interbranch transfer on the internet would be easy and he could just get me the rupees with his card, but he is out of town and won't be back until after I leave. I haven't found any machine yet which will accept my card from another Canadian bank. I don't have a credit card and basically only enough cash for food and walking around money till I go on the train.

It's not really the end of the world. I have my rail ticket and can probably buy a few rupees from Ram via a Canadian bank transfer when I go up to his wedding, but I may have to scrub my trip to Goa. I can just come back to Puttaparthi and set up a State Bank of India account I can transfer Canadian funds into via Paypal and get an ATM card from them. There are State Bank ATMs all over India and they even pay interest on depositors funds. Bonus. But it takes weeks to get the card so I will have to get Remi to get me some funds with his card to tide me over or just go in and make a withdrawal at the counter. That should be ok, he'll be arriving back here a couple of days before I get back. It's all just nerve racking. Here I am again in a third world country with $40 Canadian in the local currency in my pocket and machines blandly telling me "operation cancelled", on a weekend.

Anyway, I'll go down to the ATM and try again today.

PS: a note to those with limited vocabularies, comments are moderated.

New Link

Hey everybody, (especially you Bren and the gals in North Battleford), if you want to really motivate yourself to get to India check these tales out. See Linda's Yoga Journey on the favorite sites list below.

It's official- I'm an addict

My euphoria of last night was short lived. Half way into downloading the files my editor was sending for February's issue of Street News my connection was abruptly terminated. In the morning I went back to the shop. As I thought, no minutes left in my account. Not good, because I had already paid for 1000 Rs worth. The guy explained that he had been worried that maybe the handset was what was jamming up so he had replaced it with another. Fair enough. Then he had sold the original handset to someone else with the 1000Rs attached. Not so good. He put more rupees into my account. Then before I fired up again I checked my balance. I now have 1000 more rupees than I paid for, and the moral dilemma of whether I should go back to the shop and pay for the windfall. Oh my, after all the hassle and aggravation of the last week getting this puppy to work am I not entitled to just a little bit? About $27.00 Canadian? But 1000 Rs is half a months salary for some of the white collar working stiffs around here. Arrrrggghhhh!!!!!!!!

I cannot believe the absolute sense of relief to have my own connection ready and waiting for me any old time of day or night, though night is much cheaper, and the luxury of a great big fan to keep me and my baby cool while I check out all those sites that I routinely cruise daily, especially India Mike. Not having a live connection in my own room makes me feel so totally cut off from animportant part of my life. I am an addict, just no way to get around that.

But even addicts have to eat. Got to go get supper now. I'm looing forward to a long, inexpensive prowl through cyber space in the wee hours again. What luxury.

Back on the air

Well, it only took seven days of running back and forth between the telephone shop and the computer place to get my new, very expensive phone modem to work. That CD that was suposed to load a driver to activate the USB device that connects phone and computer was not in the folder with the name of the handset I bought. It was in a folder for another handset, some sort of programming gaffe in a backroom in Delhi I suspect. Boy did it take a lot of tech time to find that puppy.

It's dial up, it's slow, but it's mine. Yes!!!!!!!!

Now I can get back to having some sort of life and let my aching shoulder heal, cheap laptops are not light. I think if I rent this apartment for a year I may leave this one here as my Indian computer. Almost time to upgrade anyway.

A nice massage, with lashings of warm oil to sort out the tension is my next project. I think I need some pampering , especially before I head out on the train to Ramu's wedding on Tuesday.

Good Idea, Wrong Day

Remi's favorite driver approached me on the street the other day and asked me about taking pictures. I thought he wanted me to take pictures of his family, so I said sure, bring them along in the morning and we can find a nice backdrop and do some photos. He didn't show the next day, so I forgot about it. Showed up this morning. Turns out he just wants to take me out to take some pictures, and go up to where Remi is painting murals at the school. All this would be still ok, except that I foolishly had taken a glass of freshly blended grape juice the night before and had a lot of rumbling in the tummy stuff going on and the odd rather painful cramping. Enough said. Right in the middle of taking photos in a potters village I struck down by Ganesha's Revenge in the middle of the street and had to tell the driver to take me home right away, I need to change my clothes. What fun!

There is a lake to the south of Puttaparthi, usually dry cracked mud, and a road that goes around it and up to Pondicherry just to the east of Puttaparthi, makes a nice circle tour. I particularly wanted to see a small roadside shrine just on the lakeside, seems to be the earthworks of an old bridge or pier abutment with steps climbing up to the flat top of the platform. Last time I had been very charmed by the spot, very beautiful view out over the lake bed under the dappled shade of huge old trees. This time there was a little water in the lake, they have had a few good monsoons in the last couple of years, but someone had cut down the big trees and reft the spot of all beauty, grace and magic. Looks like it is used more as shrine again, lots of white paint splashed about, but I mourned for India there.

It reminded me of what my daughter has told me about the dangers of dieting. When the body is in a starvation situation, more calories expended than coming in, the first place it goes to rob cells to meet the deficit are from the muscles and organs. It does not use fat cells until those resources have been used to the point of danger. In the starvation condition that India as a whole exists in, the resources that people go after is not the fat of the rich or super rich, but the heart and lungs and organs of the land itself. Wood is very expensive in this part of India, hardly any trees left on the hills, all gone for firewood and the construction boom in Puttaparthi. Their other functions of creating oxygen, moving water from underground into the atmosphere and blessing us witheir shade and long lived patience are nowhere near as important as fueling the money economy.

Around on the other side of Puttaparthi Sai introduced me to a potters village. I was fascinated by the big pit kiln the potters were firing their ware in. I had done quite a bit of primitive type firing back when I made pottery. The sawdust firings in barrels worked pretty good, but the pit firings just took off and flared up in the wind and gave the pottery thermal shock right when it didn't need it. Clay is very temperamental. There are two places in the process where it is critical to keep the temperature rising very smoothly. Right at the beginning while you are driving the last of the water out of the pots and in the middle of the firing where the alumina-silicate bonds begin to break and the silica melts and starts to migrate into the pores of the clay. We could manage to keep the fire smoldering along quietly enough for the first part but eventually that prairie wind would whip up great gusts of flame and crack most of the pieces we were firing at this critical juncture. I saw how the design of this kiln was so much better. There was a large basin of rock constructed with pots piled in a heap at least as high again with a thick layer of thatch on top. But enclosing the whole was a stone wall higher than the whole kiln, to keep the wind out. The stone basin collects heat, lets some air in from the bottom, and additionally along the sides broken pots were set onto the walls to vent additional air into the stack. Very nice design. Can see how they would have a far higher success rate than we ever did with our heaps of straw out on the bald prairie.

Pity the ubiquitous green and yellow plastic water jugs people use now have almost destroyed the business of Indian potters. You mostly see these clay jugs hanging tied to balconies. Soak them down with water, put your fruits of vegetables and milk products in them and the water evaporating out of the clay will keep your food cooler than the ambient air temperature.

Smells of India

It's the smell grabs me everytime I walk out the door. You would think with so much shit and garbage around that it would smell bad. Actually when the steet sweepers burn piles of plastic bags on the corner it does. Other times though you can almost tell the time of day from the smell in the air. Each meal smells different, evening the scent of insence is is everywhere. It's a heady perfume of animal and people odours layered with fruit and perfume from the trees and the burning offerings. I love it.

I like my new apartment. It's on the cool side of the building, got great cross drafts, the veranda ends at my doors so no-one is looking in my windows, very clean, good water and more than enough room for my needs. I'm thinking of renting it for the whole year. At $650 for the year it is cheaper than a storage locker in Canada. I can put a padlock on the inner room door and leave my India stuff there. Let Remi have a key to the outer rooms and while I am away let the pilgrims in distress who are always coming to him for help have a little temp shelter till they find their own place. It's always those first few days in a new place that cost the most. Hotel keepers really soak you for last minute rooms.

I'll make up my mind by the end of March.

Freebee programs are so frustrating. Been putting photos up on Flickr. Putting them in sets that open reasonably quickly. Then I find out that free service only allows you three sets. Arrrghhh!

Tried putting all my trip photos in one set but here in India I cannot even get the slideshow to open. Perhaps those with broadband connections will have better luck. Piss, I'm going to have to pay that thirty dollars or so for a paid account. Wonder how long before they start trimming back on that too? Anyway, enough time messing around with these slow upload speeds for today.

Beginning to get the urge to take some photos finally. There is such a cute little baby just down at the end of the block.

How do you put a Giraffe in the Fridge?

Jan 4, 2007

Went down to the train station and bought train tickets for Remi and myself. The process reminded me of a quiz my friend Ken presented to a group of us one time.

Question one:
How do you put a giraffe in the fridge?

Answer:
You open the door and put in the giraffe.

Remi wanted me to perform some sort of legerdemain on the Internet to order tickets and pay with a credit card. When I said "I'm just going to take a rickshaw down to the station" he started questioning. Would there would be anybody there to sell tickets, (it's quite a quiet station, only a few trains come through); didn't I want to telephone first at least? He has had some harrowing experiences with paying for tickets that turned out to be waitlisted, which was not explained to him clearly. No, I'm not going to phone, I hate telephones anyway. I'm just going to go down to the station and buy tickets. This I did under the fascinated regard of half a dozen hangers on pressing up to the counter to closely watch the foreign woman buy train tickets. Doesn't take much to amuse some people in India. Open the door and put in the giraffe.

Question two:
How do you put an elephant in the fridge?

Answer:
You open the door, take out the giraffe and put in the elephant.

Told my friend Ram I had got a ticket to come up for his wedding but the line I was on only went as far as Gunter, I would have to take a bus or taxi to Repalle. He is sure the Puttaparthi guy is wrong, there are four or five trains go from Gunter to Repalle. Doesn't matter to me. If there is a train leaving in a reasonable amount of time I'll take that, if not if there is a bus also leaving in a reasonable amount of time I'll take that or I'll just hire a taxi. Figure it out when I get there. Open the door, take out the giraffe and put in the elephant.

Question three:
All the animals are at a conference in the forest except one. Which Animal is missing?

Answer:
The elephant is missing. The elephant is in the fridge.

I'm already way ahead of the game because I haven't wasted any of my emotion on worrying about stuff before I have any hard information. The elephant is in the fridge.

Question four:
There is a river that is full of crocodiles. You want to cross the river. How do you do it?

Answer:
Just swim across, the crocodiles are all at the conference.

Don't know how that one is going to work out yet.

India is so chaotic I find it really a waste of time to worry about stuff. None of your plans are ever going to play out exactly the way you plan them anyways, so it's best to just hang loose and go through the doors that open, not drive yourself nuts worrying about the ones that don't, especially before you try them.

Having fun posting all my photos to Flickr. Going to put all my collection of family snaps up too with a password for family members. Driving the guy at the computer shop crazy uploading twelve to fifteen Megs a day. He's hoping the extra rupees he's charging me will pay for the increased bandwidth charges at the end of the day. I hope they do also.

Above, my roomate.

Anything Can Happen In India

I've started uploading pictures and narative from my first trip to India, have never shown them before. It will take a while at these upload speeds but sometime I hope to get all my photo files sort of organized. Looking forward with great anticipation to taking the train across country to attend Ram's wedding at the end of this month. Getting that train reservation is my project for today.

Collecting the household bits and pieces I'll need while I am here.

Something about starting from scratch......

Very energizing.

Have Computer will travel

Happy New Years everyone

Jan 1, 2007

Best New Years Day I have had in ages. Moved into my new apartment, very happy with it. Found the correct bank ATM, ran around picking up a few household esentials, met some old aquaintances. It's eight o'clock at night and the thermometer says 28 degrees C. Frabulous joy. Got to get an umbrella tomorrow. I'm already sunburnt.

I'm tempted to rent this place for a whole year, cheaper than a storage locker at home, then I wouldn't have to keep buying all this household junk over and over every time I come.

New Years Eve is not a good day to try to get a bus to Puttaparthi

December 31

Feeling so laid back, I'm in India and feeling groovy.

Well India has a cure for that.

After a breakfast of puri, curry and chutney, my favorite high calorie guilty treat in India I'm off to the bus station feeling pretty on top of things because I managed to get the rickshaw driver to turn on his meter.The Super Delux is loading, no chance, completely full, there is an Andrhra Pradesh bus leaving in an hour and a half. Go to buy a ticket. All booked till three. Decide to try my luck with the one o'clock one anyway, someone might have given up. No such luck. The bus driver kicks us all off and decides to load from his handy dandy printed list. As I'm struggling to get my bulky bags off the bus again a beautiful young Indian girl offers to help me and asks me if I would like to share a taxi.I don't want another two hours in the midday Indian sun.Split four ways the fare is reasonable. So off I go with a very nice young couple from Kerala and the lady's father. Thank you so much Sneha and Vipindas.

The taxi driver is young and very modern, India Shining, you can tell by the elaborately embroidered racing jacket he's wearing. But he hasn't been to Puttaparthi before, keeps asking every one at cross roads the way to Puttaparthi. Bet it sounded like a pretty good fare when he started out. Out past the airport the roads are pretty good, fast four lane asphalt, but pretty soon things narrow down to where those big busses have to negotiate a peace treaty with each other to pass going opposite directions. And of course everybody has to weave around those guys carrying a goat on a moped, cyclists, bullock carts and odd constructions of rocks and marigold petals in the middle of the road. The other taxi drivers are all giving the newby a crash course in Kamakazi driving techniques, horns blaring as they bull on by. It was a fun drive.

Anyways we made it. I had hardly any rupees left, I was planning to go to the ATM on the edge of Puttaparthi that I usually use to replenish because I hate the money changers exchange rate, my own bank gives the going international rate. Anyways the machine tells me my card is invalid, that bank has stopped honoring Cirrus. What fun. To make a long story short, got it all sorted out with only the usual amount of hassel a person can expect in India.

Found Remi in the usual place at the usual time. He had found me an apartment till April, 2000 Rs, about $55 a month. Signed the papers for that. Got a little bit of running around to get settled tomorrow, but I'm basically here.

Love one cultural difference. Remi is promising to make me run up and down a lot of stairs to help loose all that unsightly fat I put on eating Ram's delicious cooking for eight months. My Indian gentleman friends are happy to see me looking fat and healthy and sexy again. Cool. I like that attitude.

Anyways, quite enough running up and down stairs and lugging heavy bags around for one day, I feel those leg cramps coming on already.

Bangalore the Town I Love to Hate

December 30

Finally here. Usual hassle at the airport. At least an hour at the baggage pickup waiting while suitcases big enough to smuggle a small pony or at least a donkey go by. One guy beside me keeps stretching forward and lovingly caressing different bags. And I mean different. Everything from hard red plastic to sleek black wheelies. Wonder if he remembers what his bag looks like? Or would he just rather have someone else's? That grab your own bag off a carousel process is really hard on Indians, lots of nervous faces. Bet they would much rather line up and present a ticket stub to make sure no-one else grabs their item and makes a dash for it. Or maybe it's just the airport lottery we all play. Did my bag make it on to my flight or is it in Hyderabad?

Big change, Bangalore has carts now and a couple of dispirited porters offering to push them for people. The coolie-man business has been trashed in one swell foop. Airport is definitely getting more organized and easier to negotiate physically. It wouldn't feel like the same place at all if they were to break down and slap on a new coat of paint. I love landing in a major international airport that has all the amenities of Abbotsford. That Singapore airport is a city center in it's own right.

Psychically there is the same damn run around. Hotel guy tells me nothing less than 1100 Rs available. The government doesn't want them listing cheap crumby places, it's all for the travelers own good. Grrrrr!! I don't want to pay more than 500 Rs. Take a taxi, visit three hotels down near the bus station. Get a 200 Rs room for only 712 Rs. Tired of running around and if I don't take something soon I'm going to start feeling guilty about not giving the taxi guy a bigger tip. Enough!

Such a relief to be back on my own timetable. I start decompressing. A big glass of Irish whiskey with enough water to make it taste sweet. Ah! Lovely!

Break open that big punishing heavy bag. Haul out the smaller one on top. Four bags now instead of three but at least I can finally lift each of them. Stash the boots, have a feeling they will be handy in Kashmir and haul out my sandals. Find my nightgown instead of the slip I've been sleeping in. No more air conditioning, ceiling fan. Hand held bidet hose instead of toilet paper. Wish I could have one of those at home. The room boy has sweet smile and isn't worried about waiting till tomorrow to get his tip. It's the little things make the difference.

One more leg. Bus to Puttaparthi tomorrow. I think there's a Super Deluxe with air suspension around ten.