Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Pondy Bazaar
We have been so very busy. The school is showing us around in a group in a van. The city is so enormous, and I am just now beginning to recognize landmarks. They took us to Pondy Bazaar on Sunday. It has shops where the price is fixed, and many street vendors selling everything imaginable. Bargaining prices is a given. Prices quadruple for white people, which seem quite rare. It was hot, hectic and crowded, and I loved every minute. I bought some cleaning supplies, a hand made broom, and a salwaar kamise (modern wear for Indian women, a dress over pants with a matching scarf) for $5.00 U.S. = 200R (rupees). I love watching the people. There is never a minute of boredom--one just needs to open eyes for new delights to see, or close them and listen and smell all of the newness around.
Monday, July 28, 2008
technology blessings and mysteries
These are photos from my first walk to the Bay of Bengal. I plan to walk through this neighborhood everyday so people become used to me. Sylvia gave me lessons to BLOG before I came. Last night nothing worked for me on the computer, and so I gave up and slept for 8 hours. This morning I am having a little better luck, but still hitches. I have a SKYPE account and I love talking with Tim and Sylvia everyday. What a funny world. I was able to add a few pictures, but now it seems I can't add the rest. I am getting many e-mails from friends at home. THey come to me like little packages of electronic love.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
arrival
They whisked me through amazing traffic passing inches from each other to my new home. Off the main road down a bumpy dirt 2 track, through a lot of construction, past little frond huts and large stucco clean gleaming houses we stopped in front of my new house. It is a large yellow and cream stucco, new construction 2 story house. I live on the bottom floor, and no one lives above me. My yard is completely bricked in and there is a fence and wall around it with a gate which a security guard is ever present just waiting for me to come or go. He appears to live here. There is a little storage building that he keeps his gear in and a shower and toilet room in the back. He has a thin straw mat that he lays out to sleep on. He told me yesterday that he was leaving for a half an hour to go eat--although I think that is what he said--he only speaks tamil. This morning we had tea and fruit and bread together.
I headed out immediately for the beach and to check out the neighborhood. My neighbors are called Gypsies, or bird killers. The driver from the airport told me that they kill a lot of birds and eat cats. They are distinguished by their children who are naked except for a g-string and wear a lot of bangles on their ankles. The plot they live on has a hand pump and the woman was doing her laundry. I entered the labyrinth that led to the beach. It is a windy path through very densely populated houses, some substantial and some made of tin or palm fronds. People were washing laundry in pans in the street, a lot of old women and men sat out front of their houses. People stared at me but with no animosity. Children called out to me, "Hello Auntie!"
In front of the humblest of homes people made chalk drawing on the dirt, and decorated their entrance with some kind of chalk like coloring. Most houses have tiles with a god's picture on it. There is a lot of pride in their homes. I noticed no trash in this area and people were sweeping their areas with hand made brooms. There were cows and dogs ambling about. On the short walk I saw many small shrines and 2 temples where people were milling about. There is a local school in this neighborhood and the children wore white shirts and blue shorts. They were playing ball at their break time and laughing and yelling like children anywhere. I could smell the ocean before I saw it. A mixture of salt and fish and heat. I think mostly fishermen and their families live on the beaches here. The beaches have a lot of garbage dumped on them from the settlement. And then they are lined with these beautifully painted fishing boats. There were cows resting on the sand. They looked at me with their soulful eyes and I could understand why one would think they are reincarnations of ancestors. Many of them had their horns painted and one wore a flowered lay on her neck. Down the beach was a gathering that seemed like a family they were playing a steel drum and dancing and eating. No one was swimming but playing in the surf as it splashed up to them. I was wearing a salwaar kamise (dress with pants under it), I had my bathing suit but just went into the water in my clothes. I later learned that this was a good thing. The area I live in is quite conservative and traditional and it would have been offensive for me to to wear less. I wandered back through the maze, checking land marks carefully to make sure I could find my way. No easy feat. When I came home, there was my security guy holding the gate open for me, Permeal.
He is an older man and has white hair and paints a white horse shoe shaped sign on his forehead with a red stripe down the middle of it. It is a tribute to a Vishnu, a Hindu God. Last night when I just fell asleep I heard a loud banging outside of my home, I looked out my bedroom window as it came close and it was him. He was going around my house with a big stick banging it every step he took. Curious. This morning at 4:45 he decided it was time to wash and sweep around the house--loudly. He wasn't the only one up and about--what a cacophony of sounds! The crows are abundant, and there were dogs barking, and in the distance music began from one of the temples or mosques--beautiful melodies wafting in and raising my curtains over head as I opened my eyes. In the very dim light I watched one of the many lizards dart. The breeze was delicious, carrying in smells of rotting fruit and blooming jasmine. Better than a dream.
I headed out immediately for the beach and to check out the neighborhood. My neighbors are called Gypsies, or bird killers. The driver from the airport told me that they kill a lot of birds and eat cats. They are distinguished by their children who are naked except for a g-string and wear a lot of bangles on their ankles. The plot they live on has a hand pump and the woman was doing her laundry. I entered the labyrinth that led to the beach. It is a windy path through very densely populated houses, some substantial and some made of tin or palm fronds. People were washing laundry in pans in the street, a lot of old women and men sat out front of their houses. People stared at me but with no animosity. Children called out to me, "Hello Auntie!"
In front of the humblest of homes people made chalk drawing on the dirt, and decorated their entrance with some kind of chalk like coloring. Most houses have tiles with a god's picture on it. There is a lot of pride in their homes. I noticed no trash in this area and people were sweeping their areas with hand made brooms. There were cows and dogs ambling about. On the short walk I saw many small shrines and 2 temples where people were milling about. There is a local school in this neighborhood and the children wore white shirts and blue shorts. They were playing ball at their break time and laughing and yelling like children anywhere. I could smell the ocean before I saw it. A mixture of salt and fish and heat. I think mostly fishermen and their families live on the beaches here. The beaches have a lot of garbage dumped on them from the settlement. And then they are lined with these beautifully painted fishing boats. There were cows resting on the sand. They looked at me with their soulful eyes and I could understand why one would think they are reincarnations of ancestors. Many of them had their horns painted and one wore a flowered lay on her neck. Down the beach was a gathering that seemed like a family they were playing a steel drum and dancing and eating. No one was swimming but playing in the surf as it splashed up to them. I was wearing a salwaar kamise (dress with pants under it), I had my bathing suit but just went into the water in my clothes. I later learned that this was a good thing. The area I live in is quite conservative and traditional and it would have been offensive for me to to wear less. I wandered back through the maze, checking land marks carefully to make sure I could find my way. No easy feat. When I came home, there was my security guy holding the gate open for me, Permeal.
He is an older man and has white hair and paints a white horse shoe shaped sign on his forehead with a red stripe down the middle of it. It is a tribute to a Vishnu, a Hindu God. Last night when I just fell asleep I heard a loud banging outside of my home, I looked out my bedroom window as it came close and it was him. He was going around my house with a big stick banging it every step he took. Curious. This morning at 4:45 he decided it was time to wash and sweep around the house--loudly. He wasn't the only one up and about--what a cacophony of sounds! The crows are abundant, and there were dogs barking, and in the distance music began from one of the temples or mosques--beautiful melodies wafting in and raising my curtains over head as I opened my eyes. In the very dim light I watched one of the many lizards dart. The breeze was delicious, carrying in smells of rotting fruit and blooming jasmine. Better than a dream.
They whisked me through amazing traffic passing inches from each other to my new home. Off the main road down a bumpy dirt 2 track, through a lot of construction, past little frond huts and large stucco clean gleaming houses we stopped in front of my new house. It is a large yellow and cream stucco, new construction 2 story house. I live on the bottom floor, and no one lives above me. My yard is completely bricked in and there is a fence and wall around it with a gate which a security guard is ever present just waiting for me to come or go. He appears to live here. There is a little storage building that he keeps his gear in and a shower and toilet room in the back. He has a thin straw mat that he lays out to sleep on. He told me yesterday that he was leaving for a half an hour to go eat--although I think that is what he said--he only speaks tamil. This morning we had tea and fruit and bread together.
I headed out immediately for the beach and to check out the neighborhood. My neighbors are called Gypsies, or bird killers. The driver from the airport told me that they kill a lot of birds and eat cats. They are distinguished by their children who are naked except for a g-string and wear a lot of bangles on their ankles. The plot they live on has a hand pump and the woman was doing her laundry. I entered the labyrinth that led to the beach. It is a windy path through very densely populated houses, some substantial and some made of tin or palm fronds. People were washing laundry in pans in the street, a lot of old women and men sat out front of their houses. People stared at me but with no animosity. Children called out to me, "Hello Auntie!"
In front of the humblest of homes people made chalk drawing on the dirt, and decorated their entrance with some kind of chalk like coloring.
I headed out immediately for the beach and to check out the neighborhood. My neighbors are called Gypsies, or bird killers. The driver from the airport told me that they kill a lot of birds and eat cats. They are distinguished by their children who are naked except for a g-string and wear a lot of bangles on their ankles. The plot they live on has a hand pump and the woman was doing her laundry. I entered the labyrinth that led to the beach. It is a windy path through very densely populated houses, some substantial and some made of tin or palm fronds. People were washing laundry in pans in the street, a lot of old women and men sat out front of their houses. People stared at me but with no animosity. Children called out to me, "Hello Auntie!"
In front of the humblest of homes people made chalk drawing on the dirt, and decorated their entrance with some kind of chalk like coloring.
Arrival
After a 30 hour trip I got off the plane into a steamy tunnel leading me into my new life. The best worst smells clung to me like my salwaar as I waited for the baggage off the plane. 3 young me came up to me with trolleys to help me unload my heavy bags and take me through customs. Barely a second glance and I stepped out to see the smiling faces of three more Indian men waving a sign with my name on it.
Arrival
I have arrived! It was a long and complicated trip getting here, but when I arrived and came out of the airport with all of my luggage and saw the smiling faces waving a sign with my name on it, it all felt worth it.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Monday, July 21, 2008
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)