A Picture is Worth A Thousand Bats

The Botanical Garden BEFORE Cyclone Thane.

This entry is a nod to the wonder and power of nature. We are in Pondicherry, heading back to the Chennai area. It's nice to be somewhat familiar with a city. After hours of internet, we decide to visit the botanical garden here. It is 22 acres of lush green and flowering walks, but when we arrived, we found something else entirely.  Cyclone Thane had hit Pondicherry just prior to our original arrival. We had seen little evidence of the damage that the cyclone had caused during our first visit, but strolling through the garden, the destruction was hard to ignore.

The entrance of the garden AFTER the storm.

The "Dancing Fountain" no longer dances. The pond has been emptied so it could be cleaned out. This is the bottom of the pool.

Me in the yellow skirt talking to a family in the garden. They were gathering wood for their fire at home. You can see the bent and broken trees around us.

At the top of this picture, you can just make out the outline of wings. Is it a bird? A plane? No those flying creatures are bats, and if one examines the picture closely, they can see that there are thousands of bats hanging from the tree on the far right. We stood and craned our heads upward, and listened to them screech. They were the largest bats either of us had ever seen, and the greatest number we had ever seen at one time. I apologize we don't have a zoom on the camera.

Later, after the botanical garden, we went for a stroll around town and were lucky enough to encounter this creature. The blurry handsome fellow in the picture is Lakshmi the blessing elephant. He was standing outside one the central temples, decked out in jewelry, wearing decorative marks on his head and ears. If you gave him a coin, he would raise his trunk and bless you. He was quite large and had freckles all over the bridge of his trunk, and the tips of his ears.  It was the closest I had ever been to an elephant. Many of the locals stood around donating money, being blessed, and feeding him handfuls of sweet grass and fruits. The elephant headed Indian God is named Ganesha. He is a popular deity, and considered the remover of obstacles, and the Lord of beginnings. After all the chaos, we probably needed a blessing or two.  I carry a picture of Ganesha in my backpack as we travel. Whatever helps. To new beginnings.

Guilty Pleasure

After two months, the culture shock is finally starting to wear off. I've been traveling internationally since I was two, and I have to admit, that I naively thought that I was immune to things like culture shock. I was wrong. The Indian world is starting to make a strange sort of sense, and things have become, dare I say, easier. Though, I'm sure I've just jinxed myself.

I'm going to use this time of ease to talk about something that many you expressed interest in, FOOD! There is a variety of fresh cut fruit being offered on every street, sweet shops galore, and hot dishes made to order. Indian food is the best fast food I've ever had, though I do miss vegetables a great deal,  but I think I'll survive.  Indian food is simple, filling, and delicious.  These are some of my favorites:


Gulab Jamun
 I first discovered this sweet round morsel of heaven on the streets of Barcelona, Spain. My girlfriend and I were exploring the neighborhood near where we were staying, and happened to meander down an alley where there was little Pakistani sweet shop. No other sweet shop we encountered in Spain sold this sweet. Days later, we couldn't remember where the shop was, or the name of the new favorite treat we had so happily devoured. The simple treasure was lost! Years later, I am happy to find Gulab Jamun being sold on nearly every corner in India. It is originally from the Arab desert, and similar in taste to a round honey soaked doughnut. Sweet caloric reunion!


Dosa
This savory crepe like food is a staple of South India.  It was recommended to me by other travelers before I even arrived in the country. The best dosa I have consumed thus far, was from a street vendor in Nagappattnam. It was terribly thin, golden, and almost crispy, and was served loosely wrapped in a cone shape standing upright on a banana leaf with sambar (a watery lentil soup) and chutney. It tasted just as good as it looked! I assumed that it had to be an unhealthy dish, because it was so delicious, but to my delight, it is quite nutritious. There are many variations of dosa, but it is traditionally made of ground rice and dahl (lentils). It is so popular that is served all over the country.


Poori and Potato Curry
When I asked TG what his favorite Indian dish was so far, he said "The breakfast potato curry with the puff bread." That "puff bread" is called Poori or Puri. It can be found all over South Asia. It is an airy unleavened fried wheat bread. The potato curry served with it is a refreshing change to most of the curries we have consumed so far. Its consistency is creamier, and the spices used are more subtle. It's a great comfort food. I had it for the first time the other day. It was wrapped up in newspaper, banana leaf, and twine. It was a our breakfast to go, as we bussed back up the coast from Nagappatnam heading north again towards Pondicherry.

With all the great food available, it is a wonder that so many go hungry. A simple street dish is 15-30 rupees, but the majority of the population can not afford the daily indulgence, and malnutrition is a common problem. To carry extra weight here is a sign of comfort and wealth. Many of the depictions of the deities are round in the face and belly. When we are approached by children or beggars, they make the common gesture of their hand to their mouth, as if they were eating. We try to avoid donating money, but if we ever have bread or fruit on us, we happily give it away. The children shriek with delight when they are handed an orange or a banana. They are so excited over a single piece of fruit, that we always wish we had more to give. In India, it is difficult to prevent even the simplest pleasure from being a guilty one.

Backpacking: The Life

Eight hours on the bumpiest cheapest all night bus ride of my life, and we arrive in the early morning. We resemble turtles, with our large packs strapped to our bodies. We have traded luggage life for backpack life. It is a better way to be. We are not sure about the name of the town. We know we are south, way south. Everyone speaks the state dialect, Tamil, and very few people know English or Hindi. We are the only white people to to be seen for miles. We like it. Finally, I'm starting to experience the concept of Indian hospitality that I had heard so much about. I had begun to think it was a myth or something that existed before my time.

People here are kind to us. They gesture us in, and smile. The rides are cheaper, as is the food, and the accommodation. We are not hounded by beggars, or people determined to sell us their wares. We share cabs with the locals, who nod and point, when we try to ask directions. There is a market street lined with shops on either side and the sky is covered by the awnings and fabric of the stores. The street is relatively quiet for being their center of commerce, and we can actually stroll down the aisle and partake in the purchasing of goods without pushing or yelling or feeling like we will be charged our soul if we decide to stop.  This place is closer to what I had romanticized India to be. It is a welcome change.

Parota!!

We can both eat the street food, now that our bodies have healed from the initial onslaught of foreign bacteria, and thank goodness because the street food is so good. In the South, it is all served on banana leaves, and the right hand is the only utensil. I've never washed my hands more often and more thoroughly in my life. My favorite are the parotas, a flaky tortilla type south Indian bread that is made fresh on hot tavas, and is usually served with veg or non-veg gravy. I have to walk a bit before and after so I feel like I've earned this indulgence. I try to encourage TG to eat, so he can put on some weight. He was sick for so long that he was starting to resemble some of the locals, but he is finally feeling better, and it's a good thing to because it's time to work.

Map of Tamil Nadu - We arrived in Chennai from Delhi by train. Since then we have been busing up and down the coast of Tamil Nadu to Mamallapuram (an hour south from Chennai), Pudicherry, and now Nagappattnam.

The city we have arrived in is called Nagappattnam, and it turns out we are just down the street from TG's office. Yay! Something went right! GIZ helps fund and improve various non-profit programs around the world, and the program TG will be assisting is called AVVAI Village Welfare Society. The twenty year old program organizes emergency service, shelters, rehabilitation, and educational works throughout the coastal towns of Tamil Nadu. TG will be bouncing from town to town finding how current projects can be improved or expanded, whether it's through some form of reorganization, funding, or presentation. The office is setting him up with Tamil speaking guides, and they will bus it from village to village. We will be here for two days. Then it's back up to Chennai to have similar visits to surrounding villages. Then it's off to the neighboring state, Andhra Pradesh, to continue the work, until he is needed in West Bengal for his other project. It is unpaid work, but they will be covering his travel expenses. I am proud of him.

Note: TG will be starting his own blog soon, to discuss and document his work

Without Words: Mamallapuram

 I finally have wireless! Yay! Here are some pictures of life in Mamallapuram. All the pictures were taken by TG with fish eyed GoPro camera. My disposable camera is also full of pictures, but I haven't been able to develop them yet.

The park with the famous rock carvings.

On top of the rock reliefs over looking Mamallapuram.

Their functioning light house.

Happy Pongal!

The reliefs and ruins that this town is famous for.

More of these elaborate rock carvings.

A temple outside our favorite pizza place.

On the street where we live.

Our bedroom. We would have died without our misquito net.

Our apartment was on the blue second floor of this house. We also had access to the roof

Email Excerpt

Mom!

Thanks for that awesome email. Yeah we have been thinking about a lot of different options. I keep mentioning the states, but both of us love the cheap living, and TG isn't quite ready to give up yet, and neither am I. I've only been here a month. There is something in me that loves this sort of living; the fresh fruit, the heat and humidity, the ocean. It's that island girl buried deep inside of me. So, who knows what the future will hold. It has been a crazy experience so far, and makes me realize again how spoiled we are back home. It is good to have a reminder. We bought a papaya the other day from a fruit stand. It didn't have any seeds in it! Genetically modified produce being sold at a fruit stand in Mamallapuram India! Oh the future! Scary, isn't it?

French Escape

Everyone waits along the highway in the heat, and then they wave down the speeding vehicles they want. The buses slow, but never stop. It is our job to fling ourselves on board. It is a weekend, and many of the buses are quite full, so we wait a good twenty minutes or so before we literally run and jump to catch our bumpy ride to Pondicherry.

Pondicherry, also known as Pudicherry, is considered the French region of India. It had once belonged to France, before the British occupation, and now, after Indian Independence, is a tourist hot spot. The region stretches along the coast of the Bay of Bengal, and the city is quite a bit larger than my out of date lonely planet guidebook lead me to believe. There is a noticeably French influence, especially in the tourist district near their famous boardwalk, but it is all together Indian in feel and flavor. We have come to Pondicherry for a night in an effort to momentarily escape and distract from my anxiety.

I have walked the streets of Portugal, Spain, England, Paris, and the Federal District of Mexico by myself several times in both the bright of the day and the wee hours of the morning, and I have never before experienced this sort of dark surprise. During my first solitary evening stroll in India,  I am molested. If I am not safe in a small quiet tourist dependent town, I wonder if I can be safe as a woman alone anywhere in this country.

We splurge a bit on a hotel, $20. The prices in India, even when you are being ripped off, are some of the best. The hotel room is worth the extra $10. Oh the soothing simple wonders of hot water, television, and a western toilet. I am already feeling much better. Now that holidays are over, TG has suddenly become very popular in the climate change research non-profit world. The meetings are regular, and two jobs have already been secured. One job is for TERI  and the other is for  GIZ . The TERI project takes place in West Bengal. The GIZ project requires TG to jump up and down the coast of Tamil Nadu and Andhra Pradesh. Either way, our time in Mamallapuram is rapidly coming to an end. It is a bittersweet transition. I search for a place to purchase pepper spray.

The terribly catchy song we hear playing everywhere in India.  "Why this Kolaveri Di? "
Translation: Why this urge to murder/hurt? It is a love song.

Beach Attack

Tomorrow is my birthday. Last night, I was attacked. TG was in Chennai, having business meetings. I had spent the day cleaning our lovely little home, and doing laundry on our roof. I went to have a massage, and it was so wonderful, that immediately after I thought I would take a stroll down the beach.

In front of the Radisson hotel and their open-air restaurant, just a little after 7pm, a stranger lunged for me. He was not trying to steal from me. He was after me because I was a woman. I fought him off, and he ran back down the beach towards town. I took off after him, screaming, and some young local boys heard me, and went to find him. I went home to cry. Today we filed a police report, and the boys said that they beat him up some.

India's attitude towards women is not one of freedom. One of the first newspaper articles I read after arriving in Delhi, was a list of bodies that had been found in the city. All of the bodies were female. They had all been murdered by different people for different reasons. The India Times ran an article just this week about a young girl who was raped by two men .  Women all over the world deal with these sort of injustices everyday. We are targeted only for being the opposite sex. That is wrong, no matter what country you come from.

My attack could have been much worse, but I was raised to defend myself. I screamed and punched, and ran, fueled with the knowledge that no person has the right to violate me, ever. I hope that more women know that this right is theirs. Every women deserves to feel worthy. Any person who tries to take that away should be held accountable. Happy Birthday to me.