HERE IS IRENE'S THIRD INDIA E-MAIL POSTING:
There was no reason to be shocked when Lewis came down to the hotel lobby barefoot for tea yesterday. He was initially skeptical as to whether we should be returning to India on this trip rather than heading to a new destination altogether. With every new movie we saw that was set in India and every news report from India, he remembered more and more the things that did not appeal to him in India. The country does indeed show some of the worst, ugliest, most revolting aspects of mankind but it also has the most exquisite, appealing and beautiful.
India somehow manages to seduce you. It works its way into your soul and permeates your being. It has been interesting to watch as India transforms Lewis. I think that the first sign was the head wagging! When an Indian person is following a conversation, the head inclines slightly and with moderate speed from side to side (ear towards shoulder). I would be relating something to Lewis and suddenly realize that his head was wagging!!
More inscrutable is the swivel. Think of nodding "no" but only turn your head slowly and go just half way....then stop. Is that a "yes" or a "no" or an indication of disinterest? I am still not sure but Lewis seems to be adopting that habit too!
Then, when I would tell Lew a story , he would start saying "aachaa" (the Indian version of "uh-huh"). He says it even when we are talking with Indians. It is now a part of his lexicon. The latest is "tee-kay" (okay, fine) which is stated frequently.
Before we left on the trip, Lew vowed that this trip would be easier than the last one...that we would not make it so hard on ourselves. We would stay in more upscale places and have reservations made ahead of time. I did reserve a hotel in Delhi for our arrival but getting a room at the lovely Hotel Ganges View in Varanasi was impossible so I booked us in at the basic Sahi River View Guest House next door(1200R or about $27). We went to make dinner reservations at the Ganges View and were told that there had been a cancellation. A room was available for 3100R. "Why on earth should we change! We have checked in already and why pay 3 times the price! What more do we need?" was Lewis' reaction. I can understand that- why live excessively in a country where so many lack basic necessities. I had not thought of Lewis as the new Gandhi.
Our carry-on luggage is now straining at the zippers and is increasingly hard to "carry on". Lewis has begun to collect "dhokra". I do feel badly for our kids because this new collection of primitive handcast metal sculptures will occupy a large space in the garage sale they will have to hold to liquidate our estate.At the tribal markets in Orissa Lewis was in full form negotiating for the figurines.
And the food....!!!! Usually Lewis complains about the food in India. All of that heavily spiced and sauced food! But now he has rediscovered his love of Indian Chinese food (Chindian, I call it). It is a bit sweeter, saucier and without the heavy soy base of the Chinese food we usually have at home. Chindian, chindian, chindian. He eats heartily and feels great. He also now maintains that he will stay a vegetarian....well with chicken....and maybe shrimp....fish perhaps...eggs definitely. Am I am losing him to India?
On our last day with car, driver and guide in Orissa, we stopped at a roadside dhaba (eatery) for a lunch break. Lew and I weren't hungry so we waited at a little drink shack at the side of the highway (another story there) and sipped our Thumbs Up (coca cola equivalent). " Just a minute". said Lewis and he got up. I looked over and there he was standing next to a pile of garbage and debris , his back to the road and with that unmistakable posture of a male marking his territory.
I think the Indianization of Lewis is complete.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Thursday, April 29, 2010
DELHI UNDERGROUND
IRENE'S SECOND POST FROM INDIA:
At present, we are in the NE state of Orissa and we are visiting
the tribal area. It is fascinating and very far removed from the email
I had prepared when I was last at an internet facility. Nevertheless,
I will proceed in order of the voyage. Just to keep you well informed
our itinerary is Delhi - Varanasi- Hyderabad- Bhubaneswar (Orissa)-
Calcutta - Gangtok (Sikkim) - Darjeeling - Delhi (perphaps a change or
two as we proceed. We are still relatively healthy!
Lewis was to meet with the vice chancellor (dean) of law at the National Law
Unversity, Delhi. We had imagined going to an old British colonial building
in the heart of Delhi perhaps with a leafy green courtyard. Instead we were
told that NLU Delhi is located in Dwarka - a remote suburb not far from the
airport.
Delhi above ground can be a very challenging experience. As our friend
Suhail told us," Delhi is not as organized as Mumbai. In Mumbai they do lane
driving". In Delhi, road traffic is a free for all. I often feel that the
vehicle I am riding is a ball in a multi-ball pinball game and someone else
is pulling the pin and tilting the surface. Cars clog every available
opening between the curbs creating ever changing flows of traffic. Gridlock
is not uncommon. Vehicles fight for supremacy and priority. Suhail's sage
advice to us: "Take the metro". Lewis had been told that the law school was
"just opposite the metro station" so we decided to try our luck.
If we were dubious about Delhi aboveground, what chaos would reign below? We
venture out of our tranquil Golf Links neighbourhood and flag a passing
rickshaw. A brief negociation of fare takes place and we speed off to
Paligiri Maidans Metro station.It is surrounded by lots of rickshaws, cars
and buses at the entrance. We passed through, put our knapsack on the Xray
belt, Lewis walks to the "gents'" scanner and I to the "ladies". I received
a very timid frisking from a bashful young woman in a khaki uniform who
averts her eyes.
We proceed to the wicket to purchase our tokens - fare is the equivalent of
50 cents. We follow the signs to the platform to await our train. The
station is spacious and CLEAN!!! An LED display announces the time of
the next train. A prim voice announces its arrival in Hindi and then repeats
it in English. Should we be expecting something more sinister? Where is
India?
The train is quiet and modern. There are maps above each door and stops
illuminate as we travel along the 45 stop length. Announcements in Hindi and
English rattle off the various stops and ask passenger : "Please do not sit
on car floors"..., "Remember to yield your seat to the physically
handicapped, the elderly and ladies"..."Kindly refrain from spitting in the
cars or in the station". It seems that every stop elicits a new request!
The metro ride to Dwarka 14 takes over 45 minutes. We are amazed at the
expanse of Delhi. The metro runs below ground in central Delhi but soon
climbs its way above most of the buildings and we are treated to quite a
view. Endless buildings are punctuated by occasional squares of green. Only
one unpleasant slum on the way to Dwarka. Innuumerable temples, huge white
gleaming stupas or red sandstone pyramidal temple entryways with gigantic
painted cement Shivas, Durgas, and Kalis. And just before Dwarka stop is an
area with sheds and yards housing dozens of water buffalo. We cannot figure
out if it is the Delhi Dairy or a stockyard.Suddenly the buildings, by some
unheard agreement, disappear - there is an expanse of open undeveloped land:
Dwarka 14.
We descend from the spanking clean, steel and glass metro station to a
dusty, treeless, featureless development zone. A few bicycle rickshaws are
in a line across the street, their drivers sleeping in the heat.We can see
several cement blocks of buildings rising in the distance , a mile or so
away. We rouse a driver and we perch awkwardly on the narrow board that
masquerades as a seat. We are grateful for the rickshaw's awning as the sun
is now very hot. Our driver rises on his pedals, leans heavily, and we begin
our progress to the newest law school in India...by bicycle.
Looking over my shoulder, I marvel at the constant contrast of India: the
most modern hand in hand with the old. Leaving a clean efficient metro with
computer driven trains that run on time to catch a dilapidated bicycle that
will bring us to the campus of the law university! And we could not have
made it to Lewis' appointment without either.
Irene
At present, we are in the NE state of Orissa and we are visiting
the tribal area. It is fascinating and very far removed from the email
I had prepared when I was last at an internet facility. Nevertheless,
I will proceed in order of the voyage. Just to keep you well informed
our itinerary is Delhi - Varanasi- Hyderabad- Bhubaneswar (Orissa)-
Calcutta - Gangtok (Sikkim) - Darjeeling - Delhi (perphaps a change or
two as we proceed. We are still relatively healthy!
Lewis was to meet with the vice chancellor (dean) of law at the National Law
Unversity, Delhi. We had imagined going to an old British colonial building
in the heart of Delhi perhaps with a leafy green courtyard. Instead we were
told that NLU Delhi is located in Dwarka - a remote suburb not far from the
airport.
Delhi above ground can be a very challenging experience. As our friend
Suhail told us," Delhi is not as organized as Mumbai. In Mumbai they do lane
driving". In Delhi, road traffic is a free for all. I often feel that the
vehicle I am riding is a ball in a multi-ball pinball game and someone else
is pulling the pin and tilting the surface. Cars clog every available
opening between the curbs creating ever changing flows of traffic. Gridlock
is not uncommon. Vehicles fight for supremacy and priority. Suhail's sage
advice to us: "Take the metro". Lewis had been told that the law school was
"just opposite the metro station" so we decided to try our luck.
If we were dubious about Delhi aboveground, what chaos would reign below? We
venture out of our tranquil Golf Links neighbourhood and flag a passing
rickshaw. A brief negociation of fare takes place and we speed off to
Paligiri Maidans Metro station.It is surrounded by lots of rickshaws, cars
and buses at the entrance. We passed through, put our knapsack on the Xray
belt, Lewis walks to the "gents'" scanner and I to the "ladies". I received
a very timid frisking from a bashful young woman in a khaki uniform who
averts her eyes.
We proceed to the wicket to purchase our tokens - fare is the equivalent of
50 cents. We follow the signs to the platform to await our train. The
station is spacious and CLEAN!!! An LED display announces the time of
the next train. A prim voice announces its arrival in Hindi and then repeats
it in English. Should we be expecting something more sinister? Where is
India?
The train is quiet and modern. There are maps above each door and stops
illuminate as we travel along the 45 stop length. Announcements in Hindi and
English rattle off the various stops and ask passenger : "Please do not sit
on car floors"..., "Remember to yield your seat to the physically
handicapped, the elderly and ladies"..."Kindly refrain from spitting in the
cars or in the station". It seems that every stop elicits a new request!
The metro ride to Dwarka 14 takes over 45 minutes. We are amazed at the
expanse of Delhi. The metro runs below ground in central Delhi but soon
climbs its way above most of the buildings and we are treated to quite a
view. Endless buildings are punctuated by occasional squares of green. Only
one unpleasant slum on the way to Dwarka. Innuumerable temples, huge white
gleaming stupas or red sandstone pyramidal temple entryways with gigantic
painted cement Shivas, Durgas, and Kalis. And just before Dwarka stop is an
area with sheds and yards housing dozens of water buffalo. We cannot figure
out if it is the Delhi Dairy or a stockyard.Suddenly the buildings, by some
unheard agreement, disappear - there is an expanse of open undeveloped land:
Dwarka 14.
We descend from the spanking clean, steel and glass metro station to a
dusty, treeless, featureless development zone. A few bicycle rickshaws are
in a line across the street, their drivers sleeping in the heat.We can see
several cement blocks of buildings rising in the distance , a mile or so
away. We rouse a driver and we perch awkwardly on the narrow board that
masquerades as a seat. We are grateful for the rickshaw's awning as the sun
is now very hot. Our driver rises on his pedals, leans heavily, and we begin
our progress to the newest law school in India...by bicycle.
Looking over my shoulder, I marvel at the constant contrast of India: the
most modern hand in hand with the old. Leaving a clean efficient metro with
computer driven trains that run on time to catch a dilapidated bicycle that
will bring us to the campus of the law university! And we could not have
made it to Lewis' appointment without either.
Irene
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Mr. and Mrs. Magoo Do India 2
Hello Everyone:
I know it's been a long time. But the Pundit is back. Irene and I spent the last few months in India and Phoenix. While we were in India, Irene sent a series of e-mails to friends describing her experiences. They make for interesting reading. I thought that it would be a good, non-controversial, way to return to punditry by posting her India memoirs on the blog. So here it is: the first one. Hope you enjoy them, and if you do, pass it on.
The Sounds of Delhi:
I think of this trip as " Mr. and Mrs. Magoo Do India 2" . Our first trip, 4 years ago, despite everyone's warnings and dire predictions went so smoothly that we were perhaps deluded into thinking that travel in India was a piece of cake.
We have been here for over a week. Four days spent in Delhi and three in Varanasi and maybe we are indeed the Magoos but we find travel here to be easy to manage and ever fascinating.
Arriving at the modern Indira Gandhi airport was smooth...not even a line up at immigration. Having only carry-on luggage for the month meant we could immediate proceed to the "Prepaid Taxi" counter. We gave the address of our hotel and paid the required amount to the ticket seller. We brought our receipt to the first in line at the queue and our second trip to India was underway!
Our taxi was one of the typical Delhi fleet. The cars look like 1958 Vauxhalls or Holdens that have been bashed around, scavenged, and generally mistreated but manage to run on determination alone (not unlike much of the Indian populace).
After a few kilometers, the driver made a swift stop at a gas station. Drivers never seem to like investing too much money on fuel - obviously they are not confident that they will be able to find another paying customer among the 1.4 billion people here. In reality, they often rent their cars and rickshaws to use for a few hours in the hope of making a few rupees in that time. Obviously they do not want to leave too much fuel in the tank for the next renter.
We fueled up, asked directions to the Delhi neighbourhood a few times, and finally made it to the Ahuja Residency. The hotel is small - a converted house in a leafy residential and central neighbourhood, the Golf Links, near the Khan Market. It became our oasis in Delhi.
The area is completely gated and each block of the neighbourhood is built around its own small park.
On our first morning, I woke at 5:30 AM and listened to the sounds of our new world. It was as though a symphony was being created outside. First there was a distant staccato-a wavering musical teletype of a muezzin supported by a soft, far-off bass of a train. These sounds soon quieted and a swelling chorus of birdsong took over filling the airspace. Over a period of time the birdsong reached a crescendo and then lapsed as the sky gradually filled with colour and our day began.
Watching the birds from our rooftop terrace was a real pleasure in Delhi. We had forgotten the variety of species. There were green parrots thrusting into the air , squawking and flying in pairs from park to park; mynas hopping about; kite hawks soaring and crows and magpies gurgling from the branches, smaller birds warbled.
As we walked through the neighbourhood on our way to the market area, the cacaphony of traffic waited for us just beyond the gate. One step out and the honking of horns becomes relentless! Honks of cars, beeps of auto rickshaws, meeps of scooters, and bells of bicycles all colliding and assaulting eardrums. It seems as though the din will never diminish until at the end of the day, we again cross the threshold into our neighbourhood and the pastoral sounds take over.
With best wishes to you all from a world away,
Irene
I know it's been a long time. But the Pundit is back. Irene and I spent the last few months in India and Phoenix. While we were in India, Irene sent a series of e-mails to friends describing her experiences. They make for interesting reading. I thought that it would be a good, non-controversial, way to return to punditry by posting her India memoirs on the blog. So here it is: the first one. Hope you enjoy them, and if you do, pass it on.
The Sounds of Delhi:
I think of this trip as " Mr. and Mrs. Magoo Do India 2" . Our first trip, 4 years ago, despite everyone's warnings and dire predictions went so smoothly that we were perhaps deluded into thinking that travel in India was a piece of cake.
We have been here for over a week. Four days spent in Delhi and three in Varanasi and maybe we are indeed the Magoos but we find travel here to be easy to manage and ever fascinating.
Arriving at the modern Indira Gandhi airport was smooth...not even a line up at immigration. Having only carry-on luggage for the month meant we could immediate proceed to the "Prepaid Taxi" counter. We gave the address of our hotel and paid the required amount to the ticket seller. We brought our receipt to the first in line at the queue and our second trip to India was underway!
Our taxi was one of the typical Delhi fleet. The cars look like 1958 Vauxhalls or Holdens that have been bashed around, scavenged, and generally mistreated but manage to run on determination alone (not unlike much of the Indian populace).
After a few kilometers, the driver made a swift stop at a gas station. Drivers never seem to like investing too much money on fuel - obviously they are not confident that they will be able to find another paying customer among the 1.4 billion people here. In reality, they often rent their cars and rickshaws to use for a few hours in the hope of making a few rupees in that time. Obviously they do not want to leave too much fuel in the tank for the next renter.
We fueled up, asked directions to the Delhi neighbourhood a few times, and finally made it to the Ahuja Residency. The hotel is small - a converted house in a leafy residential and central neighbourhood, the Golf Links, near the Khan Market. It became our oasis in Delhi.
The area is completely gated and each block of the neighbourhood is built around its own small park.
On our first morning, I woke at 5:30 AM and listened to the sounds of our new world. It was as though a symphony was being created outside. First there was a distant staccato-a wavering musical teletype of a muezzin supported by a soft, far-off bass of a train. These sounds soon quieted and a swelling chorus of birdsong took over filling the airspace. Over a period of time the birdsong reached a crescendo and then lapsed as the sky gradually filled with colour and our day began.
Watching the birds from our rooftop terrace was a real pleasure in Delhi. We had forgotten the variety of species. There were green parrots thrusting into the air , squawking and flying in pairs from park to park; mynas hopping about; kite hawks soaring and crows and magpies gurgling from the branches, smaller birds warbled.
As we walked through the neighbourhood on our way to the market area, the cacaphony of traffic waited for us just beyond the gate. One step out and the honking of horns becomes relentless! Honks of cars, beeps of auto rickshaws, meeps of scooters, and bells of bicycles all colliding and assaulting eardrums. It seems as though the din will never diminish until at the end of the day, we again cross the threshold into our neighbourhood and the pastoral sounds take over.
With best wishes to you all from a world away,
Irene
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