It's Tuesday 1 December 2009. Last night, several visitors to the institute had a send off dinner and I went with them. Very nice people, all of them, and I hope to go visit their home institutes in the (nearish sort of) future. What this means is that I'm sort of out on my own now. I have been woefully lazy about getting a phone. I don't really have anyone to call, and I have a phone in my office, which is where I spend most of my day anyway.
What having westerns around afforded me was a small daily escape from south India. It's tough here to adjust on your own. I've certainly blogged about many things here which have given me trouble (strangely enough diarrhea hasn't been an issue at all). Now without the comforts of other westerners who are as clueless as I am, I've got to take my few intro lessons and start breaking out into India. Although, at this point things seem like they'll be ok. I'm working on my Tamil, but adjusting one's ears to the speed and inflection is difficult when all one's learning has been from books. I suppose my primary concern now is getting a viable mode of transportation.
Bicycles (which I knew as mitivandi or mitivandikal in plural) are simply called cycles here. I also find that people don't expect to hear tamil words out of my mouth, and so when I say things in Tamil, the native speakers don't recognize it. My accent is the weird one here. I'm picking up about a word a day, but I haven't been studying my grammar like I should. I did have an amazingly revelation about transport though. Since the trains stop running so early, I can simply walk on the tracks to my house. It's the most direct way over the river. I've seen literally hundreds over people down on the tracks (the electricity is generated by overhead power lines for the trains here).
Plenty more adjustments to make. Stay tuned, I'm sure my solo hilarity will ensue.
I'm working on collecting pictures of TERRIBLY translated English-Tamil and Tamil-English signs, once I get a collection I'll be sure to post them.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Not Sleeping Well
The crows, the crows, the crows: do they ever sleep? Do mosquitoes stop biting? What the hell is that high-pitched squealing noise from the roof? Why is going ALL NIGHT LONG? Shut the hell up! Oh my many Gods a cat is trapped somewhere close by and howling about it. Shut up you stupid cat! You're thin and can easily get out of wherever you are. Did you climb a tree to chase a crow? Stop howling! F-me, I just got another mosquito bite on my foot. That itches like hell. What the hell is that high-pitched squealing? Weird dreams. Am I dreaming?
Sadly, no I am not dreaming, I just had a rough night. After one of the many rickshaw rides sent directly from hell to irritate me, I got to the apartment to deal with noises like this all night. In fact, I think I have recounted for you my entire night. It's noisy here. I should start wearing earplugs around, just to walk around town. Walking by a truck that honks every 15 seconds every day, motorcycle horns that play stupid songs. Cars in reverse playing that ring tone! The crows are incessant. Acoustic insulation is not heard of. Perhaps it's because no one can hear anymore. Our ears are blasted for 24 hours every day with horrible sounds. The only sweet relief from too much noise is sitting in my office listening to an AC unit and a fan.
Another mosquito bite, another ant bite. Hey Mr. Lizard with no tail hanging around the apartment, why don't you come to my room? There is plenty of good dining on bugs to be had in here. I know you like eating them, I watched you devour two moths the other night. In addition, your tail is already regenerating. You need all that mosquito protein to help regrow the rest of your tail. While you're at it, can you recruit your other animal buddies to go shut that cat up, and shoot the crows. Can you go check out what the hell the high-pitched squealing is? I can't take it anymore!
I hope I can sleep a little better tonight. After another trip to the immigration office! Oh BOI!
Sadly, no I am not dreaming, I just had a rough night. After one of the many rickshaw rides sent directly from hell to irritate me, I got to the apartment to deal with noises like this all night. In fact, I think I have recounted for you my entire night. It's noisy here. I should start wearing earplugs around, just to walk around town. Walking by a truck that honks every 15 seconds every day, motorcycle horns that play stupid songs. Cars in reverse playing that ring tone! The crows are incessant. Acoustic insulation is not heard of. Perhaps it's because no one can hear anymore. Our ears are blasted for 24 hours every day with horrible sounds. The only sweet relief from too much noise is sitting in my office listening to an AC unit and a fan.
Another mosquito bite, another ant bite. Hey Mr. Lizard with no tail hanging around the apartment, why don't you come to my room? There is plenty of good dining on bugs to be had in here. I know you like eating them, I watched you devour two moths the other night. In addition, your tail is already regenerating. You need all that mosquito protein to help regrow the rest of your tail. While you're at it, can you recruit your other animal buddies to go shut that cat up, and shoot the crows. Can you go check out what the hell the high-pitched squealing is? I can't take it anymore!
I hope I can sleep a little better tonight. After another trip to the immigration office! Oh BOI!
A Rough Ride Home
It has already been painful to me that the trains stop running right around 10PM for the night and don't get started again until shortly after 6AM. I suppose when you charge Rs.5 per ride and almost no one pays that anyway you can run the trains whenever you'd like. Nonetheless, the 10PM stopping time hurts my soul a little. In my case it's a little better since going toward central chennai (the direction I need to go home) the last train comes at 10:30 PM. So I've been able to stay late at the office most days and not worry about having to take work home with me. I'm here sufficiently long enough ~14 hrs/day to chat with people back home and do all my internet time wasting and even put in a significant amount of work on my new papers.
Sunday, however, seems to be a different story. I was wasting time in the evening watching some videos on the internet (youtube is a wonderful thing) and decided I'd had enough of the office for one weekend about quarter of 10. So I left to catch the next to last train. I got to the station about five 'til and thought the train would be running a touch late so I have no rush. I waited, waited some more, waited quite a long time more, started reading a book I had with me, then checked my watch to find out I'd been waiting 45 minutes. On Sunday it seems the last train runs at 9:30 PM. Funny this should be, since there are many Christians who go to late Sunday evening church...
I had to catch a rickshaw! AH HELL! I hate those guys, they are like mosquitoes around here. Since it is late in the evening and I work in a slightly deserted part of town I had to wait another 15 minutes to catch a rickshaw. First guy turned me down because I offered him Rs. 50. The ride is only three train stations north, and should therefore only cost something like Rs. 30. At night 1.5 times that. Anycase, he said 80, I said I've only got 50 and held it up for him to see, he drove off with no further negotiations. I had to wait a few more minutes to hail another mosquito driver. I finally settled on Rs. 60 with him and off we go.
HE GOT LOST! Hopelessly and utterly lost. He doesn't speak any english, so I couldn't even direct him where to go. My Tamil directions are still weak. I can't remember straight vs right vs left. So I let him take me around for FORTY FIVE MINUTES! ARGH! He took me on some little dirt roads through slums, where I saw a couple of old dudes playing chess by a dimly lit hut. Saw all kinds of interesting things that I had no interest in seeing. I've been trying to get to my apartment for over an hour at this point. I should point out, the train ride is 6 minutes once I board. Anycase, he somehow ends up going by the Sheraton on TTK road. I knew where we were from studying maps near my apartment trying to figure out exactly where my apartment is (unmarked street apparently). He stops and asks the third or fourth security guy for directions. My asks to go to the wrong place. Even so, the security guy gave him incorrect directions and I knew it. What could I do? He finally gets to some security guy and ask for the RIGHT PLACE, but gets incorrect directions AGAIN! Then asks someone else and makes a damn U-turn in the middle of the damn street with oncoming traffic!
After a 45 minute ride he finally gets me to the train station, so I ask him to go on a little way closer to the apartment. He drops me off by Bishop Garden Road. Begrudgingly I pay him his Rs. 60 as we did agree on that price. He certainly wasn't about to offer me a discount. Mosquito!
Sunday, however, seems to be a different story. I was wasting time in the evening watching some videos on the internet (youtube is a wonderful thing) and decided I'd had enough of the office for one weekend about quarter of 10. So I left to catch the next to last train. I got to the station about five 'til and thought the train would be running a touch late so I have no rush. I waited, waited some more, waited quite a long time more, started reading a book I had with me, then checked my watch to find out I'd been waiting 45 minutes. On Sunday it seems the last train runs at 9:30 PM. Funny this should be, since there are many Christians who go to late Sunday evening church...
I had to catch a rickshaw! AH HELL! I hate those guys, they are like mosquitoes around here. Since it is late in the evening and I work in a slightly deserted part of town I had to wait another 15 minutes to catch a rickshaw. First guy turned me down because I offered him Rs. 50. The ride is only three train stations north, and should therefore only cost something like Rs. 30. At night 1.5 times that. Anycase, he said 80, I said I've only got 50 and held it up for him to see, he drove off with no further negotiations. I had to wait a few more minutes to hail another mosquito driver. I finally settled on Rs. 60 with him and off we go.
HE GOT LOST! Hopelessly and utterly lost. He doesn't speak any english, so I couldn't even direct him where to go. My Tamil directions are still weak. I can't remember straight vs right vs left. So I let him take me around for FORTY FIVE MINUTES! ARGH! He took me on some little dirt roads through slums, where I saw a couple of old dudes playing chess by a dimly lit hut. Saw all kinds of interesting things that I had no interest in seeing. I've been trying to get to my apartment for over an hour at this point. I should point out, the train ride is 6 minutes once I board. Anycase, he somehow ends up going by the Sheraton on TTK road. I knew where we were from studying maps near my apartment trying to figure out exactly where my apartment is (unmarked street apparently). He stops and asks the third or fourth security guy for directions. My asks to go to the wrong place. Even so, the security guy gave him incorrect directions and I knew it. What could I do? He finally gets to some security guy and ask for the RIGHT PLACE, but gets incorrect directions AGAIN! Then asks someone else and makes a damn U-turn in the middle of the damn street with oncoming traffic!
After a 45 minute ride he finally gets me to the train station, so I ask him to go on a little way closer to the apartment. He drops me off by Bishop Garden Road. Begrudgingly I pay him his Rs. 60 as we did agree on that price. He certainly wasn't about to offer me a discount. Mosquito!
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Old Crow Medicine Show
If you watch Anthony Bourdain much you might have seen the episode where he's in Sri Lanka. He mentions the heat and the crows. As I'm only 425 miles north of Colombo, one might expect the climate and birds are similar. One would be correct. Ever since I've been here I've noticed the crows. They sound so eerie. All night, all day, they caw and it's loud. Given that I come from East TN and that crows are considered a nuisance, they are scavengers and carriers of certain viruses (West Nile for example). I was wondering why so many crows and started to think about it. All things being held equal it makes sense. There is a lot to scavenge here. Moving back into the issue of population for moment; there's an interesting phenomenon occurring in India concerning food and waste. India, based on it's natural settings is one of the world most abundant places based on food considerations alone. The amount of available tropical fruit is completely absurd. Fresh coconuts sell for something like 10Rs a piece. There are (supposedly) 26 varities of bananas here, as well as guavas, papaya, mangos, pineapples. They are everywhere. India, in addition has a far north, in which the Himalayas partly rest. From there plenty of varieties of spices and rice grow. In short, India has completely abundant food for a country of its size. What then is then problem?
India's problem with distributing this food is that the techniques of storage are not up to par. Most, and I mean a vast majority of the fresh food goes to waste. This, does not include the fruit that simply falls from the tree and rots, that's not wasteful. I'm talking about the coconut vendor who has 300 kg of coconuts to sell, and he sells 30 kg. It's the same way with almost all fruit vendors, at least in chennai. Then what happens? That food is thrown out somewhere. The food goes to waste and who/what eats it? Dogs who are otherwise starving, cows, pigs, chickens, goats. Any non-domesticated animals. They eat this thrown out fruit with whatever else is around it. I guess I don't need to mention, a lot of these animals die of starvation. If you were just to see India yourself, you'd understand the sheer magnitude of starvation and death on all animal levels. Well, I guess this is where the carnivorous scavengers come in to play. Crows, lots of them, loud obnoxious crows. It's not simply that they are present, it's what they represent that is so alarming. In many ways they represent death. And around these parts, that's a very common phenomenon.
India's problem with distributing this food is that the techniques of storage are not up to par. Most, and I mean a vast majority of the fresh food goes to waste. This, does not include the fruit that simply falls from the tree and rots, that's not wasteful. I'm talking about the coconut vendor who has 300 kg of coconuts to sell, and he sells 30 kg. It's the same way with almost all fruit vendors, at least in chennai. Then what happens? That food is thrown out somewhere. The food goes to waste and who/what eats it? Dogs who are otherwise starving, cows, pigs, chickens, goats. Any non-domesticated animals. They eat this thrown out fruit with whatever else is around it. I guess I don't need to mention, a lot of these animals die of starvation. If you were just to see India yourself, you'd understand the sheer magnitude of starvation and death on all animal levels. Well, I guess this is where the carnivorous scavengers come in to play. Crows, lots of them, loud obnoxious crows. It's not simply that they are present, it's what they represent that is so alarming. In many ways they represent death. And around these parts, that's a very common phenomenon.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Indian Hangover
My american friend who is visiting chennai for a month is leaving on Monday. He got here before I did and gets to leave before I do. However, we decided we should go out and celebrate his last friday in Chennai for a while (maybe/hopefully ever). To make a long story short, the end result is a hangover for me and no money. Almost authentic!
To make a long story long, it bears mention that nothing in India which resembles to American analog is quite right. My "hangover" kept me in bed a whole extra half hour on a saturday morning. My "headache" from drinking too much has already disappeared within two hours and I haven't had any water or food. The "beer" we drank was priced like american beer, but just wasn't good.
Kingfisher, I'm sorry, but your beer lacks anything resembling flavor. Why don't you make an IPA? This IS india afterall. I'll complain more once I travel to other places and get to drink beer with flavor again.
So back to how things in India which resemble American things, do ONLY that, they resemble them...
Last night began with a trip to see a play. This play called "Tunnel Vision" is adapted from a book with the same name. It's about a woman who is 31 living in Karachi, Pakistan and is unwed. She proposes to her boyfriend. Such a rebel! The point really is that this woman is acting "western." The play was actually decent, but the chronology of it was a little confusing. I was nice in the fact that the stage was nice and minimalist in a very western style. But in the end, when my Indian friends were talking about how this play is very western in comparison to others they usually see, it wasn't quite right. After the play I went with my American friend and two Indian friends to a "pub." Here again I am in a bar with a DJ and ONLY MEN. Not a single woman to be found anywhere. (I promise to write a blog entry about my take on gender studies, on India's implications on that, but later)
We are given a menu that contains something like TEN BEERS! We subsequently ask for each one until we are told that the only beers in stock are kingfisher and kingfisher strong. Why bring us a menu? I'm still thinking over that one...
One thing I actually like about pubs here is that they bring lots of snacks with the drinks. Well, most of them, not the expat bars. Little plates full of cucumbers, papaya, roasted chickpeas, deep friend veg fritters, other things that are unusual, but tasty. I really do like that. They just keep coming as well.
We leave and discover that we've missed the last train (at 10PM!!) so we decide to head over to the expat bar. One of my Indian friends says he'd like to see it. It's the same bar where the guy tried to steal my credit card earlier. Luckily, I was only charged for what I actually spent. This time, cash only!
I got decimated (literally my money is one tenth what it was before the bar). The beer was double the price of the other bar. In fact I paid 210 Rs for a skunky kingfisher on tap (10 oz). That's truly more than it costs in America.
Also, I should mention the name of this bar is "Leather Bar." In america, I hope they realize, and in the rest of the english speaking world, this is a true sign for a gay bar. Either way, Leather Bar failed to impress me again.
My Indian friend decided after a few drinks that he should talk to women. He was brave and bold, but goodness me the women at that bar are a tough crowd. Basically, the women bold enough to go out in Chennai have their pick of men. The ratio certainly leans in their favor. Well, my Indian friend got some really rude blowoffs. They just weren't having anything to do with a man from India. So, we left, dejected, but at least with SOME beer in our bellies. I'm going to attempt traveling on the weekends a lot more from now on.
To make a long story long, it bears mention that nothing in India which resembles to American analog is quite right. My "hangover" kept me in bed a whole extra half hour on a saturday morning. My "headache" from drinking too much has already disappeared within two hours and I haven't had any water or food. The "beer" we drank was priced like american beer, but just wasn't good.
Kingfisher, I'm sorry, but your beer lacks anything resembling flavor. Why don't you make an IPA? This IS india afterall. I'll complain more once I travel to other places and get to drink beer with flavor again.
So back to how things in India which resemble American things, do ONLY that, they resemble them...
Last night began with a trip to see a play. This play called "Tunnel Vision" is adapted from a book with the same name. It's about a woman who is 31 living in Karachi, Pakistan and is unwed. She proposes to her boyfriend. Such a rebel! The point really is that this woman is acting "western." The play was actually decent, but the chronology of it was a little confusing. I was nice in the fact that the stage was nice and minimalist in a very western style. But in the end, when my Indian friends were talking about how this play is very western in comparison to others they usually see, it wasn't quite right. After the play I went with my American friend and two Indian friends to a "pub." Here again I am in a bar with a DJ and ONLY MEN. Not a single woman to be found anywhere. (I promise to write a blog entry about my take on gender studies, on India's implications on that, but later)
We are given a menu that contains something like TEN BEERS! We subsequently ask for each one until we are told that the only beers in stock are kingfisher and kingfisher strong. Why bring us a menu? I'm still thinking over that one...
One thing I actually like about pubs here is that they bring lots of snacks with the drinks. Well, most of them, not the expat bars. Little plates full of cucumbers, papaya, roasted chickpeas, deep friend veg fritters, other things that are unusual, but tasty. I really do like that. They just keep coming as well.
We leave and discover that we've missed the last train (at 10PM!!) so we decide to head over to the expat bar. One of my Indian friends says he'd like to see it. It's the same bar where the guy tried to steal my credit card earlier. Luckily, I was only charged for what I actually spent. This time, cash only!
I got decimated (literally my money is one tenth what it was before the bar). The beer was double the price of the other bar. In fact I paid 210 Rs for a skunky kingfisher on tap (10 oz). That's truly more than it costs in America.
Also, I should mention the name of this bar is "Leather Bar." In america, I hope they realize, and in the rest of the english speaking world, this is a true sign for a gay bar. Either way, Leather Bar failed to impress me again.
My Indian friend decided after a few drinks that he should talk to women. He was brave and bold, but goodness me the women at that bar are a tough crowd. Basically, the women bold enough to go out in Chennai have their pick of men. The ratio certainly leans in their favor. Well, my Indian friend got some really rude blowoffs. They just weren't having anything to do with a man from India. So, we left, dejected, but at least with SOME beer in our bellies. I'm going to attempt traveling on the weekends a lot more from now on.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Indian Methodology Part 3: Population Control
As it is now well documented, India has a population of well over 1.1 billion people. By 2050 this population is expected to jump to over 1.8 billion.
There are two very split views on this "problem."
The first and most likely the overall western view is that India has too many people and it is harming itself. It is believed by this camp that India will face dire circumstances by 2050. Starvation is rampant. The literacy rate is atrocious for a nation trying to enter the developed world, and the rate of growth of the population isn't helping either of those things along.
The second and (for now) apparently more popular view in India is that the number of people is an asset. The situations that have propitiated this view are short term at best. Recently, India's economy has surged. This is to say (ask any economist) they have gone from being an underdeveloped nation, to a less underdeveloped nation. Those believing that the population is an asset are those believing that everyone in this country is fit for work. Currently India has a plethora of jobs, a booming information technology sector, and a government that is now willing to spend lots of money on scientific endeavors.
After my first few talks with people around the campus (those who are extremely well educated) I was under the impression that many in India felt that India was overpopulated. In fact, most academics I will venture to say do truly believe that. India, to make the understatement of the century, is an enormous country. It's basically it's own south asian europe with the variety of languages (more than the whole of europe), different cultures (again, more than the whole of europe), and magnitude (populous and area). The educated crew of India is certainly concerned about the rapidly growing size of the population. The full implication of what a population of 1.8 billion can bring is unknown, but it doesn't look promising. It is a dire state of affairs that the rising in the population is coming not from those with money and education, but from those without. India's megacities are growing, and the fasting growth is within the slums. To make matters worse, many (not most, not even a simple majority, but many in numbers alone) of the Indian Elite are emmigrating elsewhere. They are going to the USA, UK, Australia, Singapore, Japan, and the rest of the developing world. While this will certainly do marvels for the perception of Indians elsewhere in the world, the home affairs of this nation will not be in such good order.
A very traditional manner of population control in the developing world is not to curb procreation, but to have large families. Large families tend to increase economic stability since the chances are greater that one of the children will be successful and be able to provide some sustenance for the rest. In developed countries this is the first practice to change. Consider for example the American side of my family.
My Grandfather was one of 7, but my mom has far fewer than 12 cousins (2 per child). She is one of two, and her brother, my uncle has no children. Neither my sister or I have plans for children yet, this us subject to change, but you can bet most of the weight of the world against the two of us having a combined 5 or more children (biologically at least, adoption may change that number). On my father's side, he was one of 7, six of whom are surviving. They all have children, but those living in America have 2 children each, and those in Lebanon have more. Of the children born in America or living in America, the numbers of their children are dropping. It is simply a phenomenon experienced in the developed world and not in the developing world.
All of this to say, the control of the population is to grow it until there is economic stability. India does not yet have this said stability, and therefore its population will continue to grow at an enormous rate.
Around Chennai I have been seeing a small smattering of condom advertisements. These are to help with the prevention of disease spread. Having spoken with many Indians from elsewhere in the country I've found that these ads are similar all over India, but the success of condoms has been limited at best.
Here's an interesting anecdote:
The purported location where the condom education was most successful was a small village in Karnataka state (I think it was Karnataka, could be wrong) which is famous for weaving traditional garments and beddings and decorations. Of course, reporters went to check on why condom sales were up so much here, and not up so much elsewhere. It turned out that the weavers were using the lubrication on the condoms and the latex to protect their thumbs. All in all, the education about condoms didn't take like it was meant to.
So what does all this mean for India? Population Control in India is going very much the way it is going in the west. America and Europe have nearly stabilized their population growth. The last reports I heard were that Germany is currently lowest in growth with a replacement rate of 1.2. America is currently listed with a replacement rate of 1.7. Most of the difference comes from immigrants with large families. India, on the other hand is experiencing and will continue to experience a sharper dichotomy where the well educated will not increase their populous and those with nothing will continue to grow. This (in my estimation) will put terrible constraints on the labor force and the economy soon. Some believe this is already about to break India's economy.
My take on the whole situation is that, unless India institutes the "one-child" policy similar to China, dire, dire things will happen. I also believe these consequences are coming MUCH SOONER than 2050. The problem I believe with India is that it will be difficult to convince Muslims (the nearly 200 million here) that only having one child is appropriate behavior. I don't know how the Hindus will see it, but I believe they will have a similar reaction. Trying to ask people, who for generations have known the personal advantages to having large families, to put the good of the society ahead in priority is not an easy task. Perhaps (God and all gods forbid) another famine will occur, and we will be forced to learn the mistake of a too rapidly growing population in a "trial by fire."
There are two very split views on this "problem."
The first and most likely the overall western view is that India has too many people and it is harming itself. It is believed by this camp that India will face dire circumstances by 2050. Starvation is rampant. The literacy rate is atrocious for a nation trying to enter the developed world, and the rate of growth of the population isn't helping either of those things along.
The second and (for now) apparently more popular view in India is that the number of people is an asset. The situations that have propitiated this view are short term at best. Recently, India's economy has surged. This is to say (ask any economist) they have gone from being an underdeveloped nation, to a less underdeveloped nation. Those believing that the population is an asset are those believing that everyone in this country is fit for work. Currently India has a plethora of jobs, a booming information technology sector, and a government that is now willing to spend lots of money on scientific endeavors.
After my first few talks with people around the campus (those who are extremely well educated) I was under the impression that many in India felt that India was overpopulated. In fact, most academics I will venture to say do truly believe that. India, to make the understatement of the century, is an enormous country. It's basically it's own south asian europe with the variety of languages (more than the whole of europe), different cultures (again, more than the whole of europe), and magnitude (populous and area). The educated crew of India is certainly concerned about the rapidly growing size of the population. The full implication of what a population of 1.8 billion can bring is unknown, but it doesn't look promising. It is a dire state of affairs that the rising in the population is coming not from those with money and education, but from those without. India's megacities are growing, and the fasting growth is within the slums. To make matters worse, many (not most, not even a simple majority, but many in numbers alone) of the Indian Elite are emmigrating elsewhere. They are going to the USA, UK, Australia, Singapore, Japan, and the rest of the developing world. While this will certainly do marvels for the perception of Indians elsewhere in the world, the home affairs of this nation will not be in such good order.
A very traditional manner of population control in the developing world is not to curb procreation, but to have large families. Large families tend to increase economic stability since the chances are greater that one of the children will be successful and be able to provide some sustenance for the rest. In developed countries this is the first practice to change. Consider for example the American side of my family.
My Grandfather was one of 7, but my mom has far fewer than 12 cousins (2 per child). She is one of two, and her brother, my uncle has no children. Neither my sister or I have plans for children yet, this us subject to change, but you can bet most of the weight of the world against the two of us having a combined 5 or more children (biologically at least, adoption may change that number). On my father's side, he was one of 7, six of whom are surviving. They all have children, but those living in America have 2 children each, and those in Lebanon have more. Of the children born in America or living in America, the numbers of their children are dropping. It is simply a phenomenon experienced in the developed world and not in the developing world.
All of this to say, the control of the population is to grow it until there is economic stability. India does not yet have this said stability, and therefore its population will continue to grow at an enormous rate.
Around Chennai I have been seeing a small smattering of condom advertisements. These are to help with the prevention of disease spread. Having spoken with many Indians from elsewhere in the country I've found that these ads are similar all over India, but the success of condoms has been limited at best.
Here's an interesting anecdote:
The purported location where the condom education was most successful was a small village in Karnataka state (I think it was Karnataka, could be wrong) which is famous for weaving traditional garments and beddings and decorations. Of course, reporters went to check on why condom sales were up so much here, and not up so much elsewhere. It turned out that the weavers were using the lubrication on the condoms and the latex to protect their thumbs. All in all, the education about condoms didn't take like it was meant to.
So what does all this mean for India? Population Control in India is going very much the way it is going in the west. America and Europe have nearly stabilized their population growth. The last reports I heard were that Germany is currently lowest in growth with a replacement rate of 1.2. America is currently listed with a replacement rate of 1.7. Most of the difference comes from immigrants with large families. India, on the other hand is experiencing and will continue to experience a sharper dichotomy where the well educated will not increase their populous and those with nothing will continue to grow. This (in my estimation) will put terrible constraints on the labor force and the economy soon. Some believe this is already about to break India's economy.
My take on the whole situation is that, unless India institutes the "one-child" policy similar to China, dire, dire things will happen. I also believe these consequences are coming MUCH SOONER than 2050. The problem I believe with India is that it will be difficult to convince Muslims (the nearly 200 million here) that only having one child is appropriate behavior. I don't know how the Hindus will see it, but I believe they will have a similar reaction. Trying to ask people, who for generations have known the personal advantages to having large families, to put the good of the society ahead in priority is not an easy task. Perhaps (God and all gods forbid) another famine will occur, and we will be forced to learn the mistake of a too rapidly growing population in a "trial by fire."
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Missing Thanksgiving
It's an odd feeling coming to work on a Thursday. I mean that generally speaking since I'm a mathematician and most of the time my schedule is a MWF. Actually that's not true. Our work never truly stops and our hours are as flexible as possibly imaginable except for teaching. This Thursday is slightly more different. Back "home" in America all my friends and family are celebrating a joyous occasion. Here, in India, it's Thursday. It's hot (about 90F) and humid (80%+) and I just hung a load of laundry out to dry in the tropical sun. The meal for lunch today was several different types of curries and fruit, nothing special. It's an odd feeling since I've been streaming NPR from Philadelphia here. I listened to Marty Moss-Coane tell me all about the different ways people are celebrating and the methods for cooking turkeys and all the wonderful vegetarian options available these days. And it's a little difficult to let that go in one ear and out the other. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday for the sake of the fact that it has transformed from it's original form to a day that we set aside for many purposes. But to me, it's nice to have a day in which Religion, Race, Economic Status and all the ways in which separate ourselves daily take a smaller role and we can just relax. In some sense it's a day in which families are rediscovered. I don't exactly mean that in a pejorative way, but take it as such if you wish.
My "mathematical brother", a russian, has made some very astute comments about thanksgiving over the years I've known him. Once, he said "Isn't Thanksgiving the day when you Americans cook for us foreigners?" And just this year he said, "Don't worry, Thanksgiving is the day when Indians welcome newcomers." If only...
So for now it's a surreal experience to be surrounded by foreign people in a foreign land which tropical heat and no celebratory meal on this average thursday. I don't think there are enough Turkey's in India to go around, but that is a different story for a different time.
Happy Thanksgiving to everyone celebrating it today. I'm not missing it entirely. I'll definitely catch up on my football scores and eat a big meal of something fowl.
My "mathematical brother", a russian, has made some very astute comments about thanksgiving over the years I've known him. Once, he said "Isn't Thanksgiving the day when you Americans cook for us foreigners?" And just this year he said, "Don't worry, Thanksgiving is the day when Indians welcome newcomers." If only...
So for now it's a surreal experience to be surrounded by foreign people in a foreign land which tropical heat and no celebratory meal on this average thursday. I don't think there are enough Turkey's in India to go around, but that is a different story for a different time.
Happy Thanksgiving to everyone celebrating it today. I'm not missing it entirely. I'll definitely catch up on my football scores and eat a big meal of something fowl.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Getting Adjusted to Orthodoxy
Hinduism Orthodoxy that is! In my first two weeks here I've seen more Hindu temples and shrines than I've certainly ever seen before. I am admittedly ignorant on the ins and outs of this (very) old religion. Last night I stopped in by my Landlord's apartment as he lives downstairs. I had to ask him for a photocopy of the electric bill as this was requested (mysteriously) by my friends over at BOI. He seemed puzzled by this, but said he can get it for me, and made some remark about how registration for foreigners is done incorrectly. In addition, he confirmed for me for probably the 30th time yesterday (I griped a lot about my immigration) that researchers have such a hassle to get here, but that the Pakistani (suspected) terrorist got a business visa without much trouble. At least I'm not alone in that complaint. In any case, he invited me in and we had a nice chat. I spent most of the time asking him about two things:
1) how to say various things in Tamil
2) how some of hinduism works (as I am genuinely interested, and woefully ignorant).
I asked about the religious service that had awoken me yesterday. He told me it was a ceremony for an expectant mother in her 7th month of pregnancy. It is required to start before sunrise (which is 5:30 AM here!) and ends a "little while" later. It was still going when I left my apartment at nearly 8 (this perhaps accounts for some of the boredom and tiredness on the face of the man assisting the "priest"). So then I asked about various gods and goddesses and he tried explaining some of them to me, but there were just too many names to understand. This one is an avatar of that one, this one is an incarnation of that one. I got terribly confused. I decided maybe I should stick with asking about Ganesh (or as the Tamils call him Pillyar, which means something like Elephant man or Elephant face) and I couldn't really understand that either. I felt so befuddled. In the meantime, his wife brought he a Dosa with a little chicken. Sadly, I had just eaten a huge meal with a brazilian couple visiting the institute. But I somehow managed to force down a dosa. To be fair, I could probably stuff down one additional dosa at almost any time. They are so choice. If you have the means I highly recommend them. (I know I overuse Ferris Bueller, but come on...)
While I'm stuffing my face and working on the eating with the right hand only I'm still getting a lecture about gods and goddesses and this main division of two types of Hindus. Basically I got the following fact about Hinduism into my small head.
Hinduism is divided into two main sects. One follows Vishnu (mainly), with many incarnations and avatars and gurus etc) and the other follows Krishna. I'm sure I've made an egregious error in this recounting of my information, and will gladly accept comments to the contrary below. After I stuffed my face with the delicious dosa I went to wash my sauce soaked hand and saw a picture of a man whom I can only describe as a man who looks like an Indian Richard Simmons. This is the only description I can give you. I forgot his name, but my landlord told he his wife is a devotee to him. Again, intrigued, I asked what that meant. Apparently, again to my limited understanding, Gurus are like living saints. He described to me, that devotees pray through their gurus in the same way that Catholics pray through saints. I'd almost had enough and had decided to change the subject to international relations and India's take on them, but I had one REALLY BURNING QUESTION TO ASK!
For those of you unaware, read this article as soon as you can: Hindu Animal Sacrifices in Nepal.
In Nepal, today and tomorrow there is an enormous festival of cleansing and purity and I'm sure 8 million other things involving the sacrifice of over 300,000 animals in Nepal. Nearly half a million people are expected to attend, and more than half from India. MOST places in India have outlawed these practices, so about a quarter million
people have traveled to southeastern Nepal for this ceremony (which takes place every fifth year). Of course animal rights activists are protesting. The government of Nepal is not only NOT outlawing this practice, but has contributed 4.5 million Rs. to the cause.
Again, here is where India tears at my moral dilemma. I can't possibly place judgment on this ritual. It's been practiced for over a thousand years, and probably more than five-thousand years. Some ceremony participants have this to say on the protesters, "they have a right to protest, and we have a right to our religion." In almost every way I have to agree with that statement. It still doesn't make me easy about sacrificing 300,000 animals, but I get no vote.
So I asked my landlord about this. He said with some disdain that those are the "other" hindus. I was nearly hysterical with recognition. At least there are several universal things across all religions. There is no way in which we can all agree and everyone practicing any organized religion finds throngs of other practitioners embarrassing. I guess orhtodox and reformed sects of each religion dislike each other for these reasons:
1) Orthodox practitioners find reformed practitioners weak and not really dedicated
2) Reformed practitioners find orthodox practitioners too rigid and unable to adapt to the world around them.
Maybe adjusting to orthodoxy (hinduism style) won't be any more difficult than adjusting to any other orthodoxy.
1) how to say various things in Tamil
2) how some of hinduism works (as I am genuinely interested, and woefully ignorant).
I asked about the religious service that had awoken me yesterday. He told me it was a ceremony for an expectant mother in her 7th month of pregnancy. It is required to start before sunrise (which is 5:30 AM here!) and ends a "little while" later. It was still going when I left my apartment at nearly 8 (this perhaps accounts for some of the boredom and tiredness on the face of the man assisting the "priest"). So then I asked about various gods and goddesses and he tried explaining some of them to me, but there were just too many names to understand. This one is an avatar of that one, this one is an incarnation of that one. I got terribly confused. I decided maybe I should stick with asking about Ganesh (or as the Tamils call him Pillyar, which means something like Elephant man or Elephant face) and I couldn't really understand that either. I felt so befuddled. In the meantime, his wife brought he a Dosa with a little chicken. Sadly, I had just eaten a huge meal with a brazilian couple visiting the institute. But I somehow managed to force down a dosa. To be fair, I could probably stuff down one additional dosa at almost any time. They are so choice. If you have the means I highly recommend them. (I know I overuse Ferris Bueller, but come on...)
While I'm stuffing my face and working on the eating with the right hand only I'm still getting a lecture about gods and goddesses and this main division of two types of Hindus. Basically I got the following fact about Hinduism into my small head.
Hinduism is divided into two main sects. One follows Vishnu (mainly), with many incarnations and avatars and gurus etc) and the other follows Krishna. I'm sure I've made an egregious error in this recounting of my information, and will gladly accept comments to the contrary below. After I stuffed my face with the delicious dosa I went to wash my sauce soaked hand and saw a picture of a man whom I can only describe as a man who looks like an Indian Richard Simmons. This is the only description I can give you. I forgot his name, but my landlord told he his wife is a devotee to him. Again, intrigued, I asked what that meant. Apparently, again to my limited understanding, Gurus are like living saints. He described to me, that devotees pray through their gurus in the same way that Catholics pray through saints. I'd almost had enough and had decided to change the subject to international relations and India's take on them, but I had one REALLY BURNING QUESTION TO ASK!
For those of you unaware, read this article as soon as you can: Hindu Animal Sacrifices in Nepal.
In Nepal, today and tomorrow there is an enormous festival of cleansing and purity and I'm sure 8 million other things involving the sacrifice of over 300,000 animals in Nepal. Nearly half a million people are expected to attend, and more than half from India. MOST places in India have outlawed these practices, so about a quarter million
people have traveled to southeastern Nepal for this ceremony (which takes place every fifth year). Of course animal rights activists are protesting. The government of Nepal is not only NOT outlawing this practice, but has contributed 4.5 million Rs. to the cause.
Again, here is where India tears at my moral dilemma. I can't possibly place judgment on this ritual. It's been practiced for over a thousand years, and probably more than five-thousand years. Some ceremony participants have this to say on the protesters, "they have a right to protest, and we have a right to our religion." In almost every way I have to agree with that statement. It still doesn't make me easy about sacrificing 300,000 animals, but I get no vote.
So I asked my landlord about this. He said with some disdain that those are the "other" hindus. I was nearly hysterical with recognition. At least there are several universal things across all religions. There is no way in which we can all agree and everyone practicing any organized religion finds throngs of other practitioners embarrassing. I guess orhtodox and reformed sects of each religion dislike each other for these reasons:
1) Orthodox practitioners find reformed practitioners weak and not really dedicated
2) Reformed practitioners find orthodox practitioners too rigid and unable to adapt to the world around them.
Maybe adjusting to orthodoxy (hinduism style) won't be any more difficult than adjusting to any other orthodoxy.
The Night Sky in Chennai
I know next to nothing about stars and constellations. Although, I can still pick out the really famous and well known constellations. For example, Orion, "the hunter" is the easiest one to pick out, I can spot. Of course, all my astronomer (not astrologer) friends will be quick to point out to me that the sky looks different in different parts of the world. Having lived as far north as Evanston, IL (42 degrees north) and now in Chennai, TN (13 degrees north) the sky looks different.
It is important to note that Chennai is a huge city (roughly the size of chicago) and therefore has very little visibility at night due to the pollution and light pollution. Nonetheless I have been looking up at night to see what I can and the only thing that jumps out at me is Orion. I think it took me a few days to recognize it though because it's turned sideways (to my orientation). In Chicago it nearly stands up straight (I imagine at 45 degrees north it stands up "straight" and at the equator it is completely on its side. Maybe this is part of the navigational knowledge I was supposed to have learned in the boyscouts, maybe not, I can't remember. It just stands to reason that one can truly see how far south one is just by checking the night sky.
On another similar note Chennai has badly labeled streets. I really truly have no idea where I am most of the time, and since everything has an English and a Tamil name, none of the autorickshaw driver know where I'm asking to go either... In light of this I end up walking a lot of the time, and I need to go east most of the time. Luckily for me, I'm far enough south that the "sun rises in the east" has some validity to it. I at least know if I'm being steered away from the beach!
All told, I'm realizing the ease that being near the equator gives to self navigation. At night, however, I can only tell far south I am in the world, and in that case I just have to find someone who knows where I am...
It is important to note that Chennai is a huge city (roughly the size of chicago) and therefore has very little visibility at night due to the pollution and light pollution. Nonetheless I have been looking up at night to see what I can and the only thing that jumps out at me is Orion. I think it took me a few days to recognize it though because it's turned sideways (to my orientation). In Chicago it nearly stands up straight (I imagine at 45 degrees north it stands up "straight" and at the equator it is completely on its side. Maybe this is part of the navigational knowledge I was supposed to have learned in the boyscouts, maybe not, I can't remember. It just stands to reason that one can truly see how far south one is just by checking the night sky.
On another similar note Chennai has badly labeled streets. I really truly have no idea where I am most of the time, and since everything has an English and a Tamil name, none of the autorickshaw driver know where I'm asking to go either... In light of this I end up walking a lot of the time, and I need to go east most of the time. Luckily for me, I'm far enough south that the "sun rises in the east" has some validity to it. I at least know if I'm being steered away from the beach!
All told, I'm realizing the ease that being near the equator gives to self navigation. At night, however, I can only tell far south I am in the world, and in that case I just have to find someone who knows where I am...
Monday, November 23, 2009
How to become a Kollywood Star!
I actually can't tell you in fact how to become a starring member of the major Tamil Film industry, but I can provide you links with some fun Tamil things. For example, here's a link about the term Kollywood (not to be confused with Bollywood!) Confusing this with Bollywood would be a faux pas to say the least. Remember that I mentioned the political party DMK? Just as an aside, there is a second party called IDMK which has the exact same ideology, but different leadership...
In any case, the closest thing I can tell you is that Kollywood is extremely active around here. I just learned yesterday in fact that the institute next door is a filming institute. This is where all the new directors and producers of Kollywood are trained. This may in part describe why so many of the movies look and feel the same. While on the way to work yesterday and today (and after lunch both days) there were big film crews just outside the gates of our guest house and hostel complex.
Here's a photo that doesn't show much, except that there's a film crew doing something...
On the set
I think what's happening right now is the filming of some commercial. For what I can't be totally sure. I asked a few people near the set and was told, "shooting." Believe it or not, I already had that little piece of information figured out. So I tried my hardest to conjure up the correct questions in Tamil. Funny enough, I don't know the Tamil translations for "movie" or for "commercial" or "film" or "advertisement." I thought I could get away with "ad?" or "advert?" but again I was met with blank stares. So I asked "Shooting, yena irruku?" Roughly, "what is shooting?" and "what shooting?" I was told "yes, shooting." Oh well, I'm just going to assume it's a commercial and go sulk in my still utter lack of good Tamil communication skills.
However, I should at least send this link to you, dear reader. If you want to watch some Tamil movies online, here's a good sight for it TamilO! I love the name of this sight. "O!" pronounced "WHOA!" with an upward inflection at the end is a Tamil expression of excitement. Something akin to "holy cow" or "SWEET" or even "right on." I spent a little time watching these movies this summer. I personally got tired of them because I could only understand every 100th word or so. I thought I was making real progress, but the flow just wasn't happening. Either way though, it LOOKS like some of these are good movies, but I can't be sure. Perhaps by the end of my time here, they'll want to shoot a Tamil commercial with "that crazy foreigner." I'm not holding my breath though.
In any case, the closest thing I can tell you is that Kollywood is extremely active around here. I just learned yesterday in fact that the institute next door is a filming institute. This is where all the new directors and producers of Kollywood are trained. This may in part describe why so many of the movies look and feel the same. While on the way to work yesterday and today (and after lunch both days) there were big film crews just outside the gates of our guest house and hostel complex.
Here's a photo that doesn't show much, except that there's a film crew doing something...
On the setI think what's happening right now is the filming of some commercial. For what I can't be totally sure. I asked a few people near the set and was told, "shooting." Believe it or not, I already had that little piece of information figured out. So I tried my hardest to conjure up the correct questions in Tamil. Funny enough, I don't know the Tamil translations for "movie" or for "commercial" or "film" or "advertisement." I thought I could get away with "ad?" or "advert?" but again I was met with blank stares. So I asked "Shooting, yena irruku?" Roughly, "what is shooting?" and "what shooting?" I was told "yes, shooting." Oh well, I'm just going to assume it's a commercial and go sulk in my still utter lack of good Tamil communication skills.
However, I should at least send this link to you, dear reader. If you want to watch some Tamil movies online, here's a good sight for it TamilO! I love the name of this sight. "O!" pronounced "WHOA!" with an upward inflection at the end is a Tamil expression of excitement. Something akin to "holy cow" or "SWEET" or even "right on." I spent a little time watching these movies this summer. I personally got tired of them because I could only understand every 100th word or so. I thought I was making real progress, but the flow just wasn't happening. Either way though, it LOOKS like some of these are good movies, but I can't be sure. Perhaps by the end of my time here, they'll want to shoot a Tamil commercial with "that crazy foreigner." I'm not holding my breath though.
Blessing Markers
I have been wandering to and from the train at least twice a day and noticing more things each time. The most recent thing are these designs on the ground. I asked my roommate what they are and he says they are some sort of "blessing marker more or less." I don't know exactly what that means, but they are beautiful and make the walk to and from the train at least a little more pleasant. Most homes wash these off every morning and redraw new ones. So here are a few pictures.
In addition to these, I awoke this morning to someone chanting and the sound was close by. When I went to take my daily bath out of a bucket I noticed that the house directly next door was having some sort of religious ceremony. I peeked in through the window of my bathroom just to see if I could get a glimpse of it, or any sort of the action. Not shockingly it looked very much like any religious service I've ever attended. There was a head of the gathering who was wearing slightly different vestments than the others. He was doing most of the chanting with somewhat uninspired responsive chanting from the guy sitting next to him. A couple of the people looked pretty bored and the whole ordeal smelled really wonderful.
It's good know to that there are some things which tend to hold true worldwide. Apparently, decorated the front of the home with religious themes and having religious services boring to most in attendance are two such things.
In addition to these, I awoke this morning to someone chanting and the sound was close by. When I went to take my daily bath out of a bucket I noticed that the house directly next door was having some sort of religious ceremony. I peeked in through the window of my bathroom just to see if I could get a glimpse of it, or any sort of the action. Not shockingly it looked very much like any religious service I've ever attended. There was a head of the gathering who was wearing slightly different vestments than the others. He was doing most of the chanting with somewhat uninspired responsive chanting from the guy sitting next to him. A couple of the people looked pretty bored and the whole ordeal smelled really wonderful.
It's good know to that there are some things which tend to hold true worldwide. Apparently, decorated the front of the home with religious themes and having religious services boring to most in attendance are two such things.
Rickshaw Photos
The enemy of the people
Again, the enemy
Good luck trying to haggle him buddy, you're north indian, not local enough
Elusive view from INSIDE a rickshawI've gotten a few requests for these. I think it should be noted, that these guys are the enemy. They will rip you off as much as possible. Even the guys who see me all the time, still think I'm a tourist and try to charge me double or triple or whatever it is they do.
They say in Thailand, dogs are like rats, and in Mumbai and Delhi, rats are as big as dogs. Here in Chennai, the Autorickshaws are like rats.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Oh BOI, tales from immigration
I had a hard time picking the name for this post. Right now, I'm completely fed up with India's hardlining bureaucracy. I was furious with it before I got here, and had a short two week cooling off period before my plane took off. Now that I'm here, I'm realizing how much more of a pain in my ass it will be just to stay here. This story begins Friday morning.
My visa issues me a 14 day grace period before needing to register with the local ministry. In this case I have to deal with the Bureau of Immigration (BOI). Friday, I stupidly had forgotten my actual passport, but had what I had believed to be all the other necessary documentation.
1) Four identical passport sized photos (current)
2) Photocopy of passport and visa (apparently with arrival stamp)
3) Proof of local address
4) Letter of affiliation with the institute.
Friday, I got turned away at the door without passport and without the proper registration form. I was told to return Monday. So I went this morning to find a mob scene. I arrived at 8:45 AM after waiting on the train and getting an autorickshaw costing way too much money. I showed up this time with all necessary documents AND the passport. They were closed.
They start doing business at "9:30 A.M." IST. The important thing here is the IST (India Standard Time). I sat down and waited until they started processing people, which is to say 10. I implored the 5th level middleman that I needed a registration form. He said "get it inside." I knew this would be a long morning... I got into to see the 4th level middleman (or middlewoman) she looked at my passport and gave me a registration form. She said "Fill this out and return here." That meant I had to go away fill out the form I'd already asked for and start over in the line.
"Ok, fine." I thought. "I've got all my paperwork, this will just take a few minutes to fill out. What's this, local phone number!? I don't have a local phone number? Holy hell, what do I do? I'll just tell them the truth. I don't have a local phone." That problem however didn't arise until two hours later. After I made it through the queue for the second time the lady asked where all my documentation was. I was furious. I started unloaded 25 sheets of paper proving who I was, where I'm from, my immunization record, old plane tickets, you name it. She said, we need address proof. I said here it is, and handed her another photocopy of a piece of paper she already had.
Aside: I had learned my lesson in dealing with Indian govermental types back in the good ol' US of A. I had probably 15 times as many papers as necessary. HAHA, I've got you, you Indian Bureaucrat Bastards!
Oops, what's this? They need a BONAFIDE certificate from the institute. They need the original copy! WHAT THE F@*%!? I don't have the original, and furthermore, they wouldn't accept it anyway, because it's not addressed to them! (I'm about to punch someone in the face right about now).
So I sat arguing with the lady for a few minutes complaining to her about all the shit I had to go through at home just to get my visa with the Consulate General of New York.
I made sure to use big words and impress with my vocabulary, even while angry! It was a great show... I wish I could have been a spectator!
The lady sends me to the infamous counter number 5 designated by nothing more than a chair and cheap computer print out in purple saying "Counter No. 5" with no one sitting at the chair. After a few minutes of waiting another lady shows up, middleman level 3 (methinks) and I argue with her for a while about how I'm this, that, and the other, and how I'd rather be unemployed in America, than have a crappy job here. She said she was surprised to meet such a pessimistic mathematician. I told her, she hasn't met many mathematicians. Most of our life is spent failing rather than succeeding and that she was helping out my cause in this way.
I probably should have held my tongue at that remark, but whatever I was pissed off. I unloaded on her my stack of documentation. She said, "This is not in question that you are affiliated with the Institute." I asked her what the problem was then. She told me that "these are your documents, we need the documents in OUR prescribed manner." Then she added "You know, not everyone is as honest as you are, and we're worried about fake documentation." I could have exploded at that. That was a total slap in my face! An open declaration (off the record of course) that she believes my documentation is accurate and that I really am who I say I am, and pursuing the cause I say I am, but that my efforts are not sufficient. Oh my many many Gods. I swear to them all, I will punch someone in the face if I have to deal with this again.
So finally she agrees to let my documentation "half pass" and sends me back to middlewoman on the 4th level. I finally get a little token with number 39 on it and I'm told to go to Counter No. 2. Are you F-ing kidding me. This is the fifth queue I've been placed in this morning! ARGH! Finally after waiting for three persons in front of me to get served by mister counterman number 2 it's my turn.
Aside: I think it is quite apropos that at this point I have to go through number 2...
As soon as its my turn, he takes a break. I'm about to break off his fingers and feed them to all the starving people his government totally ignores! After another nice little sit and seethe session for me he comes back. I stand up and immediately hand him all my paperwork. He says "token." I say, "here's my paperwork." He says "token, where' your token?" I give him my little blue plastic piece of garbage token with 39 written on it, and give a snide remark of, "of course, THAT's the most important thing!" He then proceeds to look over my stuff. He accepts it, but writes down for me that I'm missing ACTUAL proof of address and other information (all of which he is holding in his hands) because it's not BONAFIDE. Give me a F-ing break. I asked if I bought a plane ticket and promised to leave India tomorrow, if I could avoid coming back to the BOI? They said no, I'd be held up at the border. Oh My MANY MANY MANY MANY MANY GODS. I have to get the same damn stuff from the institute, but this time ADDRESSED to the correct place, not a general address proof.
I left there with full conviction that I am coming back to the United States as soon as humanly possible.
Here are some pictures of the fun things I dealt with just this very morning.
There when we need you
I'm not the only one waiting on you!
My visa issues me a 14 day grace period before needing to register with the local ministry. In this case I have to deal with the Bureau of Immigration (BOI). Friday, I stupidly had forgotten my actual passport, but had what I had believed to be all the other necessary documentation.
1) Four identical passport sized photos (current)
2) Photocopy of passport and visa (apparently with arrival stamp)
3) Proof of local address
4) Letter of affiliation with the institute.
Friday, I got turned away at the door without passport and without the proper registration form. I was told to return Monday. So I went this morning to find a mob scene. I arrived at 8:45 AM after waiting on the train and getting an autorickshaw costing way too much money. I showed up this time with all necessary documents AND the passport. They were closed.
They start doing business at "9:30 A.M." IST. The important thing here is the IST (India Standard Time). I sat down and waited until they started processing people, which is to say 10. I implored the 5th level middleman that I needed a registration form. He said "get it inside." I knew this would be a long morning... I got into to see the 4th level middleman (or middlewoman) she looked at my passport and gave me a registration form. She said "Fill this out and return here." That meant I had to go away fill out the form I'd already asked for and start over in the line.
"Ok, fine." I thought. "I've got all my paperwork, this will just take a few minutes to fill out. What's this, local phone number!? I don't have a local phone number? Holy hell, what do I do? I'll just tell them the truth. I don't have a local phone." That problem however didn't arise until two hours later. After I made it through the queue for the second time the lady asked where all my documentation was. I was furious. I started unloaded 25 sheets of paper proving who I was, where I'm from, my immunization record, old plane tickets, you name it. She said, we need address proof. I said here it is, and handed her another photocopy of a piece of paper she already had.
Aside: I had learned my lesson in dealing with Indian govermental types back in the good ol' US of A. I had probably 15 times as many papers as necessary. HAHA, I've got you, you Indian Bureaucrat Bastards!
Oops, what's this? They need a BONAFIDE certificate from the institute. They need the original copy! WHAT THE F@*%!? I don't have the original, and furthermore, they wouldn't accept it anyway, because it's not addressed to them! (I'm about to punch someone in the face right about now).
So I sat arguing with the lady for a few minutes complaining to her about all the shit I had to go through at home just to get my visa with the Consulate General of New York.
I made sure to use big words and impress with my vocabulary, even while angry! It was a great show... I wish I could have been a spectator!
The lady sends me to the infamous counter number 5 designated by nothing more than a chair and cheap computer print out in purple saying "Counter No. 5" with no one sitting at the chair. After a few minutes of waiting another lady shows up, middleman level 3 (methinks) and I argue with her for a while about how I'm this, that, and the other, and how I'd rather be unemployed in America, than have a crappy job here. She said she was surprised to meet such a pessimistic mathematician. I told her, she hasn't met many mathematicians. Most of our life is spent failing rather than succeeding and that she was helping out my cause in this way.
I probably should have held my tongue at that remark, but whatever I was pissed off. I unloaded on her my stack of documentation. She said, "This is not in question that you are affiliated with the Institute." I asked her what the problem was then. She told me that "these are your documents, we need the documents in OUR prescribed manner." Then she added "You know, not everyone is as honest as you are, and we're worried about fake documentation." I could have exploded at that. That was a total slap in my face! An open declaration (off the record of course) that she believes my documentation is accurate and that I really am who I say I am, and pursuing the cause I say I am, but that my efforts are not sufficient. Oh my many many Gods. I swear to them all, I will punch someone in the face if I have to deal with this again.
So finally she agrees to let my documentation "half pass" and sends me back to middlewoman on the 4th level. I finally get a little token with number 39 on it and I'm told to go to Counter No. 2. Are you F-ing kidding me. This is the fifth queue I've been placed in this morning! ARGH! Finally after waiting for three persons in front of me to get served by mister counterman number 2 it's my turn.
Aside: I think it is quite apropos that at this point I have to go through number 2...
As soon as its my turn, he takes a break. I'm about to break off his fingers and feed them to all the starving people his government totally ignores! After another nice little sit and seethe session for me he comes back. I stand up and immediately hand him all my paperwork. He says "token." I say, "here's my paperwork." He says "token, where' your token?" I give him my little blue plastic piece of garbage token with 39 written on it, and give a snide remark of, "of course, THAT's the most important thing!" He then proceeds to look over my stuff. He accepts it, but writes down for me that I'm missing ACTUAL proof of address and other information (all of which he is holding in his hands) because it's not BONAFIDE. Give me a F-ing break. I asked if I bought a plane ticket and promised to leave India tomorrow, if I could avoid coming back to the BOI? They said no, I'd be held up at the border. Oh My MANY MANY MANY MANY MANY GODS. I have to get the same damn stuff from the institute, but this time ADDRESSED to the correct place, not a general address proof.
I left there with full conviction that I am coming back to the United States as soon as humanly possible.
Here are some pictures of the fun things I dealt with just this very morning.
There when we need you
I'm not the only one waiting on you!
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Returning to the Western World for a minute
Saturday night: Always filled with excitement, unless you're new to chennai, in which case you'll find yourself hopelessly lost in a huge city with no friends.
Chennai, however, is famous for a couple of things. First off, it is said to have the longest city owned beach in the world. I can neither confirm nor deny the validity of this claim. I do know, however, that the beach here is a little bit lame in comparison to beaches in America. Talk shit about the Jersey shore all you want, but I'd take it in the summer over the chennai beach all year round! I think the loads of garbage and rotting food seem to detract from my enjoyment of it. It could just be that I'm an uptight american asshole trying impose his own values on India, I'm not sure. Either way, give me jersey, give me florida, give me north carolina, india can have chennai.
The second thing for which Chennai is famous is the burial place of St. Thomas (doubting Thomas) the apostle of Jesus. Again, I can neither confirm nor deny the validity of this claim. I figured that I might as well spend Saturday night kind of like a tourist and trek on up to see the tomb. According to the Basilica of St. Thomas, there are only three churches in the world built at the tombs of Christ's apostles. St. Thomas here, St. Peter in Rome and St. James in Spain. (I'm not sure which James because there were two.)
St. Thomas Basilica Chennai
Realizing that Indians are terribly good at prayer and starvation, I decided that starvation wasn't my thing and so I'd give the prayer thing a shot. Well, at least a visit to a prayer type place. I arrived about 5:30 P.M. and high mass takes place at 6. I was almost going to stay for mass, but being the good episcopalian I am I decided to not infringe on the catholics for High Mass. I did however go into the church to see it. Not surprisingly it looks extremely catholic in the most western sense of the word. The real differences were the inscriptions in Tamil, Telugu, and Hindi in addition to English, French, and German. As well as a congregation full of south Indians, and finally the same flower offerings to Mother Mary as one would see at any shrine to a god or goddess within the hinduism pantheon. All in all it was a nice escape from Indian for a few minutes. I would provide more pictures, but how is the church supposed to make money if tourists publish their own pictures?
After leaving I had more revelations about India. The dichotomy between those who have and those who don't is extreme. The Catholic Church probably LOVES this basilica, because churches in Europe and the Americas are expensive to keep up. Coupled with the dropping attendance and declining tithing the Catholic church in Europe is having a hard time. Here, the same amount of money, although very low, can go a long way toward upkeep of the building, and the extreme amount of charity the church provides. Allow me to give credit where credit is due.
Side note: This is not an advertisement for the Catholic Church.
The Catholic church, however, is wonderful about its charities and educations. And here in South India appears to be wildly liberal in the face of orthodox hinduism. I will however give credit again to the catholic church worldwide for being ardently consistent. Their charities and education are taken just as seriously here as they are back home in the states.
While leaving the grounds of the Basilica I was approached by a beggar girl. She tried to take my umbrella from my hand while I was walking. I almost didn't see her, because she was literally shorter than four feet tall. Sitting next to her when I looked down was a woman I can only assume to have been a leper, as she was missing all the toes on her right foot. It is at times like these that I have the strongest sense of moral dilemma. How does one reconcile the ideas that here on my left is one of the world's most beautiful buildings and by many considered to be amongst the holiest sites in Christendom; and on my right a woman without money, without proper food, clothing, or medical attention, and a small girl destined for the same fate?
I didn't give any money or my umbrella to the beggar girl, because I've seen what happens (in Damascus, Syria for example) when an American looking person gives money to a beggar. The hordes of children hiding in fear swarm you. (This happened to my mom in 1994 when she bought gum from a little beggar boy).
So I left with a sense of moral dilemma. I had returned home for a moment, well almost home. The particular take on the religion is slightly different, and the specifics were quite strange, but still close enough. After leaving the western world, I had no more than 5 seconds of peace when India shoved its way back into my immediate consciousness. What did I do? Well, I went for a Dosa at a fast food stand for a whopping Rs. 12, then bought a little cake snack at a bakery for another huge Rs. 10. Then got my hair cut, then went and drank beer.
I should briefly metion to strangeness of the bar scene again. The only woman present was clearly the girlfriend of the DJ. I was served by an 18 year old Muslim boy. THAT was awkward. Anyway, I impressed everyone at the bar with my knowledge of Tamil and cricket. The TV was showing lifetime highlights of Sachin Tendulkar who is one of India's greatest players of all time. Think Babe Ruth plus Joe Dimaggio plus like 6 other guys. That's how popular "Sachin the Great" (as they call him here) is. After garnering disdain from the bar waitrons and having a good chat with them in the meantime I left to return home at a very late 9 PM.
CHENNAI PARTY TOWN!
Chennai, however, is famous for a couple of things. First off, it is said to have the longest city owned beach in the world. I can neither confirm nor deny the validity of this claim. I do know, however, that the beach here is a little bit lame in comparison to beaches in America. Talk shit about the Jersey shore all you want, but I'd take it in the summer over the chennai beach all year round! I think the loads of garbage and rotting food seem to detract from my enjoyment of it. It could just be that I'm an uptight american asshole trying impose his own values on India, I'm not sure. Either way, give me jersey, give me florida, give me north carolina, india can have chennai.
The second thing for which Chennai is famous is the burial place of St. Thomas (doubting Thomas) the apostle of Jesus. Again, I can neither confirm nor deny the validity of this claim. I figured that I might as well spend Saturday night kind of like a tourist and trek on up to see the tomb. According to the Basilica of St. Thomas, there are only three churches in the world built at the tombs of Christ's apostles. St. Thomas here, St. Peter in Rome and St. James in Spain. (I'm not sure which James because there were two.)
St. Thomas Basilica ChennaiRealizing that Indians are terribly good at prayer and starvation, I decided that starvation wasn't my thing and so I'd give the prayer thing a shot. Well, at least a visit to a prayer type place. I arrived about 5:30 P.M. and high mass takes place at 6. I was almost going to stay for mass, but being the good episcopalian I am I decided to not infringe on the catholics for High Mass. I did however go into the church to see it. Not surprisingly it looks extremely catholic in the most western sense of the word. The real differences were the inscriptions in Tamil, Telugu, and Hindi in addition to English, French, and German. As well as a congregation full of south Indians, and finally the same flower offerings to Mother Mary as one would see at any shrine to a god or goddess within the hinduism pantheon. All in all it was a nice escape from Indian for a few minutes. I would provide more pictures, but how is the church supposed to make money if tourists publish their own pictures?
After leaving I had more revelations about India. The dichotomy between those who have and those who don't is extreme. The Catholic Church probably LOVES this basilica, because churches in Europe and the Americas are expensive to keep up. Coupled with the dropping attendance and declining tithing the Catholic church in Europe is having a hard time. Here, the same amount of money, although very low, can go a long way toward upkeep of the building, and the extreme amount of charity the church provides. Allow me to give credit where credit is due.
Side note: This is not an advertisement for the Catholic Church.
The Catholic church, however, is wonderful about its charities and educations. And here in South India appears to be wildly liberal in the face of orthodox hinduism. I will however give credit again to the catholic church worldwide for being ardently consistent. Their charities and education are taken just as seriously here as they are back home in the states.
While leaving the grounds of the Basilica I was approached by a beggar girl. She tried to take my umbrella from my hand while I was walking. I almost didn't see her, because she was literally shorter than four feet tall. Sitting next to her when I looked down was a woman I can only assume to have been a leper, as she was missing all the toes on her right foot. It is at times like these that I have the strongest sense of moral dilemma. How does one reconcile the ideas that here on my left is one of the world's most beautiful buildings and by many considered to be amongst the holiest sites in Christendom; and on my right a woman without money, without proper food, clothing, or medical attention, and a small girl destined for the same fate?
I didn't give any money or my umbrella to the beggar girl, because I've seen what happens (in Damascus, Syria for example) when an American looking person gives money to a beggar. The hordes of children hiding in fear swarm you. (This happened to my mom in 1994 when she bought gum from a little beggar boy).
So I left with a sense of moral dilemma. I had returned home for a moment, well almost home. The particular take on the religion is slightly different, and the specifics were quite strange, but still close enough. After leaving the western world, I had no more than 5 seconds of peace when India shoved its way back into my immediate consciousness. What did I do? Well, I went for a Dosa at a fast food stand for a whopping Rs. 12, then bought a little cake snack at a bakery for another huge Rs. 10. Then got my hair cut, then went and drank beer.
I should briefly metion to strangeness of the bar scene again. The only woman present was clearly the girlfriend of the DJ. I was served by an 18 year old Muslim boy. THAT was awkward. Anyway, I impressed everyone at the bar with my knowledge of Tamil and cricket. The TV was showing lifetime highlights of Sachin Tendulkar who is one of India's greatest players of all time. Think Babe Ruth plus Joe Dimaggio plus like 6 other guys. That's how popular "Sachin the Great" (as they call him here) is. After garnering disdain from the bar waitrons and having a good chat with them in the meantime I left to return home at a very late 9 PM.
CHENNAI PARTY TOWN!
Friday, November 20, 2009
sexual frsutrations
I've written a few times about how men and women are separated around here. After observing the customs very closely, I'm not sure who has it worse. Take last night's dinner for example.
The Math(s) department had a gathering of about 15 people to go to some swanky hotel called the raintree. To be fair, this is a really nice hotel, and I'd gladly stay in it any night someone is willing to rent a room! They even had a decent bar, several excellent scotches and believe it or not FOUR BEERS to choose from. They also had wine, which is a first for me in Chennai. I have not seen a single drop of wine anywhere until last night. Of course, dinner was provided, but we each had to buy our own alcohol. This included me ordering a "pint" which meant a 12 oz bottle. I told the waiter I'd ordered a pint and he brought me a 650 ml bottle. This is ALSO NOT A PINT. A pint is universal speak for 500mL not 375, not 650. Oh well, I'll enjoy my extra 150ml of crappy beer. All this is totally beside the point. I'm just still very bitter about the whole alcohol situation here.
Here's the point I was starting to make. Last night I was sitting around a big table mostly full of grad students. There were 7 men and 3 women. I sat down in a random chair and after realizing the tv was behind me there was some shuffling of chairs so that some of the male grad students could watch tv. I ended up sitting between two of the women and the third two seats away from me. I was definitely the outsider. I felt like going and eating with the chinese business men sitting at a table behind us. In any case, it's not appropriate for men and women to shake hands. I sat there and made a little small talk with the people sitting near me. Then I started talking about my hilarious view of India vs. America. I guess I mentioned some taboos or something. I started talking about how guns are not such a big deal here referencing the bb guns, but how I was amused that the levels of "alcoholism" are a) don't drink b) you're a full-fledged alky.
They told me that the bb guns don't really count as guns. I retorted that kingfisher doesn't really count as beer either. But that was not met with such enthusiasm... I think that was my mistake.
So after sharing my insight so far (mostly with those who've never been stateside) I was ousted from the conversations around me a little. After dinner when we were all leaving one of the girls (a graduate student) had called her dad to come pick her up. Apparently she is form Chennai, and still lives at home. I can't believe that she is doing anything other than waiting to be married off.
So here are my observations about the roles of men and women (so far)
Men:
1) Expected to be the breadwinner. I would say bring home the bacon, but I haven't seen a single strip of bacon in this town yet.
2) In General have much more privilege when it comes to education and employment.
3) Because of 2 receive all the blame for mistakes.
4) Not allowed to converse freely with women unless given the "ok" by her father or husband. I shouldn't say, not allowed to converse, but the real question that has sort of been "Why would a man wish to talk to a woman to whom he isn't married?" In fact, "if a man needs to ask a woman a question, why not ask her father or husband?"
Women:
1) Expected to cook and maintain the home. This I guess isn't terribly shocking. Although, I'm looked at as sort of nutty when I say I like to cook. WHAT!? Why would a man want to cook at home? Are you trying to start a restaurant? No! I'm not trying to start a restaurant. I like cooking so that I don't have to eat the crappy food at the canteen for dinner! This shouldn't be so difficult to understand... However, finding a woman to teach me how to cook, this will be much more difficult, argh!
2) Have a lot of social privilege because men don't. Women have their own separate compartment on every train, but can sit with the men if they wish. At one bar around here, Bike and Barrel, Single men are relegated to the second floor. Women may roam freely.
3) Even though women can obtain education and jobs, they are still expected to be married at their fathers' requests. Most women have no say so in their own marriages.
So this all adds up to a bizarre world for me. I don't know if I'm allowed to talk to women or not. I think it's a bit of a crap shoot depending on the woman. I'm certainly not allowed to touch a woman, not a handshake, not a hug, none of that. Unless her father deems it so. But of course, I don't wish to be at the mercy of some woman's father. Basically, my day is filled with lots of men doing men things. I sit and eat with men, I talk with men, I drink tea with men. To make matters worse, Indian music videos show loads of gorgeous Indian women (most of whom I assume are half british) dancing around scantily clad with hunky Indian men. These music videos are shown in bars and restaurants that all completely filled with men and men only. Oh my many many gods the frustration one can feel here...
Now, perhaps the last important point; the thing that strikes me as the strangest here is this. I see lots of guys hanging on their guy friends by putting their arms around their shoulders. I also see young men holding hands just by the pinky or index finger. In my mind, these are clearly homosexual men. In addition, in my American mind, I don't even care a little bit. Gay: fine by me. Not gay: also fine by me. However, here this is clearly not homosexual behavior, as homosexuals are clearly deranged individuals. I can't wrap my mind around that yet.
The overall point I'm trying to make is this:
I'm not here to pick up women, I'm here to do math and to travel and see this part of world. However, living here means that I need to function like a normal human being. What is so difficult for me here is the complete lack of balance. To my narrow American mind it is completely normal and healthy to have friends of both sexes. In fact, in my mind it's ok to hug your friends and even kiss them on the cheek if they are of opposite sex. I know for sure I would be derided as rude in Lebanon if I didn't hug and kiss all those when greeting or saying goodbye. I will offer my apology to south India now and in the face of adversity "boldly" proclaim:
"I like to have female friends. I also like to have male friends. I think it's ok for me to hug my friends regardless of their gender." (also, I think it's ok to drink beer)
The Math(s) department had a gathering of about 15 people to go to some swanky hotel called the raintree. To be fair, this is a really nice hotel, and I'd gladly stay in it any night someone is willing to rent a room! They even had a decent bar, several excellent scotches and believe it or not FOUR BEERS to choose from. They also had wine, which is a first for me in Chennai. I have not seen a single drop of wine anywhere until last night. Of course, dinner was provided, but we each had to buy our own alcohol. This included me ordering a "pint" which meant a 12 oz bottle. I told the waiter I'd ordered a pint and he brought me a 650 ml bottle. This is ALSO NOT A PINT. A pint is universal speak for 500mL not 375, not 650. Oh well, I'll enjoy my extra 150ml of crappy beer. All this is totally beside the point. I'm just still very bitter about the whole alcohol situation here.
Here's the point I was starting to make. Last night I was sitting around a big table mostly full of grad students. There were 7 men and 3 women. I sat down in a random chair and after realizing the tv was behind me there was some shuffling of chairs so that some of the male grad students could watch tv. I ended up sitting between two of the women and the third two seats away from me. I was definitely the outsider. I felt like going and eating with the chinese business men sitting at a table behind us. In any case, it's not appropriate for men and women to shake hands. I sat there and made a little small talk with the people sitting near me. Then I started talking about my hilarious view of India vs. America. I guess I mentioned some taboos or something. I started talking about how guns are not such a big deal here referencing the bb guns, but how I was amused that the levels of "alcoholism" are a) don't drink b) you're a full-fledged alky.
They told me that the bb guns don't really count as guns. I retorted that kingfisher doesn't really count as beer either. But that was not met with such enthusiasm... I think that was my mistake.
So after sharing my insight so far (mostly with those who've never been stateside) I was ousted from the conversations around me a little. After dinner when we were all leaving one of the girls (a graduate student) had called her dad to come pick her up. Apparently she is form Chennai, and still lives at home. I can't believe that she is doing anything other than waiting to be married off.
So here are my observations about the roles of men and women (so far)
Men:
1) Expected to be the breadwinner. I would say bring home the bacon, but I haven't seen a single strip of bacon in this town yet.
2) In General have much more privilege when it comes to education and employment.
3) Because of 2 receive all the blame for mistakes.
4) Not allowed to converse freely with women unless given the "ok" by her father or husband. I shouldn't say, not allowed to converse, but the real question that has sort of been "Why would a man wish to talk to a woman to whom he isn't married?" In fact, "if a man needs to ask a woman a question, why not ask her father or husband?"
Women:
1) Expected to cook and maintain the home. This I guess isn't terribly shocking. Although, I'm looked at as sort of nutty when I say I like to cook. WHAT!? Why would a man want to cook at home? Are you trying to start a restaurant? No! I'm not trying to start a restaurant. I like cooking so that I don't have to eat the crappy food at the canteen for dinner! This shouldn't be so difficult to understand... However, finding a woman to teach me how to cook, this will be much more difficult, argh!
2) Have a lot of social privilege because men don't. Women have their own separate compartment on every train, but can sit with the men if they wish. At one bar around here, Bike and Barrel, Single men are relegated to the second floor. Women may roam freely.
3) Even though women can obtain education and jobs, they are still expected to be married at their fathers' requests. Most women have no say so in their own marriages.
So this all adds up to a bizarre world for me. I don't know if I'm allowed to talk to women or not. I think it's a bit of a crap shoot depending on the woman. I'm certainly not allowed to touch a woman, not a handshake, not a hug, none of that. Unless her father deems it so. But of course, I don't wish to be at the mercy of some woman's father. Basically, my day is filled with lots of men doing men things. I sit and eat with men, I talk with men, I drink tea with men. To make matters worse, Indian music videos show loads of gorgeous Indian women (most of whom I assume are half british) dancing around scantily clad with hunky Indian men. These music videos are shown in bars and restaurants that all completely filled with men and men only. Oh my many many gods the frustration one can feel here...
Now, perhaps the last important point; the thing that strikes me as the strangest here is this. I see lots of guys hanging on their guy friends by putting their arms around their shoulders. I also see young men holding hands just by the pinky or index finger. In my mind, these are clearly homosexual men. In addition, in my American mind, I don't even care a little bit. Gay: fine by me. Not gay: also fine by me. However, here this is clearly not homosexual behavior, as homosexuals are clearly deranged individuals. I can't wrap my mind around that yet.
The overall point I'm trying to make is this:
I'm not here to pick up women, I'm here to do math and to travel and see this part of world. However, living here means that I need to function like a normal human being. What is so difficult for me here is the complete lack of balance. To my narrow American mind it is completely normal and healthy to have friends of both sexes. In fact, in my mind it's ok to hug your friends and even kiss them on the cheek if they are of opposite sex. I know for sure I would be derided as rude in Lebanon if I didn't hug and kiss all those when greeting or saying goodbye. I will offer my apology to south India now and in the face of adversity "boldly" proclaim:
"I like to have female friends. I also like to have male friends. I think it's ok for me to hug my friends regardless of their gender." (also, I think it's ok to drink beer)
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Jay-Z, you have no idea!
Wednesday night resulted in a failure to arrive at a the radison for their kebab house and bar. Therefore, I went again with my american friend mike on thursday. This time, we had a map printed out, and an address and confirmation from google maps, etc. We're ready to go. Oh my, google maps led us astray again! I'm getting really tired of getting lost by taking the advice of said searching service. If there is one thing I know about google maps now, it's that is has just as little idea about where stuff is in chennai as I do. But I'm getting way out of sequence here...
The result of google maps was that we got lost in a rich neighborhood on the south side of chennai and had to catch a train back so that we could eat at some "chinese" restaurant. Along the way, however, being head strong americans we decided to walk for a few minutes toward the IIT campus and just catch an autorickshaw down the road. That was not the most brilliant idea I've had yet in India. We ended up walking down through the slums between CIT and IIT campuses. We ended up on a main road with rickshaw drivers who immediately spotted that we were the wrong color and jumped all over us. So we negotiated for a while, after showing them the maps and telling them we know exactly how far we're going and the rate they still asked for double, so we said "no, we'll walk." Apparently Americans don't get chased after, the way the locals do. I stopped and asked a traffic guy where to go. He told us to take the M70 bus (if that's not an omen, then I can't be totally sure what is). As we were talking to him, one of the worker boys (vinodkumar) showed up and said hi to us. We were only a mile or so from campus at this point, so it wasn't too shocking. Even though he only speaks Telugu and I only speak english, he somehow managed to communicate the idea that he was taking us to the bus. So we agreed. He walked us through more slums. As we were walking by one of the many miniature rows of houses, he said, "my house" and pointed. He lives there! I couldn't quite believe it. "My house, come." was his refrain. At this point, mike and I were getting quite hungry, but I knew we couldn't pass such an opportunity. We followed Vinodkumar down a little narrow alley to the last "house" on the right. We were invited in wamrly. The doorframe was significantly shorter than I am. In fact significantly shorter than Mike, and he's probably only 6'0" or 6'1". Vinod's mother and father and younger live in this hut.
Worldy possessions
Three walls of brick and a ceiling of scrap metal, with a fan hung from an extension cord. They have a small tv, and buckets for cleaning/bathing and wood for making a fire from which to cook. We were invited in and Vinod's mother prepared us a place to sit. His father asked what we wanted to drink, and then sent vinod with money. I felt horrible at this point for allowing them to buy ME a coffee. Meanwhile all the neighborhood children were looking in the hut to see who the strange foreigners were. They all had huge and radiant smiles on their faces as if our presence was a big treat to them. Throng by throng they came and just barely peeked around the corner to see what the commotion was. We finished our coffees and Vinod knew we were trying to catch a bus and warned that if we didn't go we'd miss it. So he volunteered to walk us to the nearest us stop. I left without feeling. The hospitality and pride and warmth displayed by a family with nothing left me speechless and thoughtless. I could not comprehend exactly what had just happened.
This fan hangs five feet off the ground
After Vinod led us to the bus station we tried to catch a bus, but there was no way the two americans could ride that bus, or any bus. They were all packed to the brim, with no fewer than 15 people hanging on the outside. I'm into joyriding sure, but not in that way. Vinod thought it was mildly amusing that we wouldn't board such a vehicle, so we caught a rickshaw to the bus station we needed.
Now I'd be back to sequence if I said google maps had led us astray. We walked directly to where we needed to go to find, not only no Radison, but no one around seemed to know where it was either. We decided to walk to the nearest train station which led us to this interesting discovery.
The way to the train
This is what it's like in the slums for 100s of millions of people everyday in India. A quick aside: If you put together all the huge cities in India you'll result in a population of about 100-120 million people. Considering India has 1.12 BILLION people, and half of the ones in big cities live in slums I imagine the idea that 100s of millions of people living like this is probably pretty accurate.
Our excursion ended at some chinese restaurant called Wang's Kitchen, which really could have been almost any "chinese" restaurant in America. It turns out, the chinese only serve chinese food to chinese people. They dumb it down for EVERYONE else. That however is not the important part.
Here are a couple more photos from around a few slums in Chennai. The goat in a really nice area of town with the "posh" slums, and the general scene at any slum near a river.
A Goat just hanging out in a nice house
This is their drinking a bathing water.
Backyard, no need to mow the grass
The result of google maps was that we got lost in a rich neighborhood on the south side of chennai and had to catch a train back so that we could eat at some "chinese" restaurant. Along the way, however, being head strong americans we decided to walk for a few minutes toward the IIT campus and just catch an autorickshaw down the road. That was not the most brilliant idea I've had yet in India. We ended up walking down through the slums between CIT and IIT campuses. We ended up on a main road with rickshaw drivers who immediately spotted that we were the wrong color and jumped all over us. So we negotiated for a while, after showing them the maps and telling them we know exactly how far we're going and the rate they still asked for double, so we said "no, we'll walk." Apparently Americans don't get chased after, the way the locals do. I stopped and asked a traffic guy where to go. He told us to take the M70 bus (if that's not an omen, then I can't be totally sure what is). As we were talking to him, one of the worker boys (vinodkumar) showed up and said hi to us. We were only a mile or so from campus at this point, so it wasn't too shocking. Even though he only speaks Telugu and I only speak english, he somehow managed to communicate the idea that he was taking us to the bus. So we agreed. He walked us through more slums. As we were walking by one of the many miniature rows of houses, he said, "my house" and pointed. He lives there! I couldn't quite believe it. "My house, come." was his refrain. At this point, mike and I were getting quite hungry, but I knew we couldn't pass such an opportunity. We followed Vinodkumar down a little narrow alley to the last "house" on the right. We were invited in wamrly. The doorframe was significantly shorter than I am. In fact significantly shorter than Mike, and he's probably only 6'0" or 6'1". Vinod's mother and father and younger live in this hut.
Worldy possessionsThree walls of brick and a ceiling of scrap metal, with a fan hung from an extension cord. They have a small tv, and buckets for cleaning/bathing and wood for making a fire from which to cook. We were invited in and Vinod's mother prepared us a place to sit. His father asked what we wanted to drink, and then sent vinod with money. I felt horrible at this point for allowing them to buy ME a coffee. Meanwhile all the neighborhood children were looking in the hut to see who the strange foreigners were. They all had huge and radiant smiles on their faces as if our presence was a big treat to them. Throng by throng they came and just barely peeked around the corner to see what the commotion was. We finished our coffees and Vinod knew we were trying to catch a bus and warned that if we didn't go we'd miss it. So he volunteered to walk us to the nearest us stop. I left without feeling. The hospitality and pride and warmth displayed by a family with nothing left me speechless and thoughtless. I could not comprehend exactly what had just happened.
This fan hangs five feet off the groundAfter Vinod led us to the bus station we tried to catch a bus, but there was no way the two americans could ride that bus, or any bus. They were all packed to the brim, with no fewer than 15 people hanging on the outside. I'm into joyriding sure, but not in that way. Vinod thought it was mildly amusing that we wouldn't board such a vehicle, so we caught a rickshaw to the bus station we needed.
Now I'd be back to sequence if I said google maps had led us astray. We walked directly to where we needed to go to find, not only no Radison, but no one around seemed to know where it was either. We decided to walk to the nearest train station which led us to this interesting discovery.
The way to the trainThis is what it's like in the slums for 100s of millions of people everyday in India. A quick aside: If you put together all the huge cities in India you'll result in a population of about 100-120 million people. Considering India has 1.12 BILLION people, and half of the ones in big cities live in slums I imagine the idea that 100s of millions of people living like this is probably pretty accurate.
Our excursion ended at some chinese restaurant called Wang's Kitchen, which really could have been almost any "chinese" restaurant in America. It turns out, the chinese only serve chinese food to chinese people. They dumb it down for EVERYONE else. That however is not the important part.
Here are a couple more photos from around a few slums in Chennai. The goat in a really nice area of town with the "posh" slums, and the general scene at any slum near a river.
A Goat just hanging out in a nice houseThis is their drinking a bathing water.
Backyard, no need to mow the grass
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Indian Methodology Part 2: Autorickshaws
In Soviet Russia, cab hales YOU.
I thought one of the most peculiar things about philly was the fact that cabbies always honk at you if their cabs are empty. In India, apparently it’s easier than that. You can say no to about 25 autorickshaw drivers and be walking away from them and they’ll still pursue you. There are a couple easy tricks I’ve found to dealing with the drivers when you actually need one.
First, to hail a driver one should stand still and look foreign. If you don’t look foreign then you have several easy options. You can walk up to a driver directly. This will start a long negotiation process which you are bound to lose OR hail a cab like normal and hop right in. This will earn you a ride in which the meter is “broken” or “not working” and you will have to negotiate when you disembark.
The price for a ride is somewhere along the lines of 9-10 Rs/km. Chennai is a geographically big place and there are lots of little alleyways and whatever. This means if you don’t pay attention the driver will tell you they’ve gone further than they really have. You really have to know exactly how far you are going. I suggest the following method. First, Speak Tamil to them. This will immediately make your markup only double. I also suggest negotiation BEFORE riding. Tell them where you want to go and ask how much which in Tamil is “yenna vella?” or literally “what cost?” They will tell you some absurd number because you are foreign. If you don’t speak Tamil and they detect this (even if you are Indian) they’ll mark you up 2x or 3x. The Tamils are very proud or their Tamil identity and it shows. Try reading something on Indian poilitics sometime and the political party DMK. The negotiations begin! If you know the cost (calculate it as 9Rs/km as the crow flies) Tell them “ille” which means “no” and then the number you calculated and tell them in Tamil. You are actually asking for something too low. The discrepancy will be staggering, but don’t let this phase you. For example it will sound something like this:
Driver: You need driver?
Foreigner: R.A. Puram
D: Ok I take you. Come.
F: How much?
D: 250
F: No, too much. 30
D: 220
F: 30
There are several excuses they will give you. Bad weather, late hour, too far, etc are the most common. In other big cities (I'm told) rickshaws just drive around with the meter on, but somehow the Chennai drivers have formed a sort of ad hoc union.
As it is, even with good negotiating you’ll probably get a ride for 100Rs when it actually costs 40-50.
If you had started with Tamil the negotiations would have started from 150-200 with the driver.
If the driver isn’t budging on his price, go ahead and walk away and begin negotiating with another driver. Then they will both vie for you dollar.
Once you’ve settled on a price be sure to have that exact amount available in Rupees. Otherwise the driver is likely to simply take whatever you hand him and feign ignorance saying that he gave you a fair price and that you paid. No change.
Early on, my roommate said to me, "This system is not about the fact that it doesn’t cost much money to ride. The point is that if I’m paying 4 Rs and everyone else has to pay 2 Rs I’m upset because this isn’t fair." He’s right too. One thing you’ll notice about India is that non-American things are really cheap. It doesn’t cost much to live here which is why my salary this year is somewhere around $5000 total. The drivers of rickshaws look at you as someone who has dollars. Persons living in the slums can live off less than a dollar a day per family of 4. So don’t worry about not paying 250 Rs for a cab ride even though in the USA that’s still a cheap fare. Pay the correct wage and let them get on with their business. In addition try to realize that negotiation about EVERYTHING is part of the way of life here. Just start with that attitude and you’ll only get ripped off a little bit.
I thought one of the most peculiar things about philly was the fact that cabbies always honk at you if their cabs are empty. In India, apparently it’s easier than that. You can say no to about 25 autorickshaw drivers and be walking away from them and they’ll still pursue you. There are a couple easy tricks I’ve found to dealing with the drivers when you actually need one.
First, to hail a driver one should stand still and look foreign. If you don’t look foreign then you have several easy options. You can walk up to a driver directly. This will start a long negotiation process which you are bound to lose OR hail a cab like normal and hop right in. This will earn you a ride in which the meter is “broken” or “not working” and you will have to negotiate when you disembark.
The price for a ride is somewhere along the lines of 9-10 Rs/km. Chennai is a geographically big place and there are lots of little alleyways and whatever. This means if you don’t pay attention the driver will tell you they’ve gone further than they really have. You really have to know exactly how far you are going. I suggest the following method. First, Speak Tamil to them. This will immediately make your markup only double. I also suggest negotiation BEFORE riding. Tell them where you want to go and ask how much which in Tamil is “yenna vella?” or literally “what cost?” They will tell you some absurd number because you are foreign. If you don’t speak Tamil and they detect this (even if you are Indian) they’ll mark you up 2x or 3x. The Tamils are very proud or their Tamil identity and it shows. Try reading something on Indian poilitics sometime and the political party DMK. The negotiations begin! If you know the cost (calculate it as 9Rs/km as the crow flies) Tell them “ille” which means “no” and then the number you calculated and tell them in Tamil. You are actually asking for something too low. The discrepancy will be staggering, but don’t let this phase you. For example it will sound something like this:
Driver: You need driver?
Foreigner: R.A. Puram
D: Ok I take you. Come.
F: How much?
D: 250
F: No, too much. 30
D: 220
F: 30
There are several excuses they will give you. Bad weather, late hour, too far, etc are the most common. In other big cities (I'm told) rickshaws just drive around with the meter on, but somehow the Chennai drivers have formed a sort of ad hoc union.
As it is, even with good negotiating you’ll probably get a ride for 100Rs when it actually costs 40-50.
If you had started with Tamil the negotiations would have started from 150-200 with the driver.
If the driver isn’t budging on his price, go ahead and walk away and begin negotiating with another driver. Then they will both vie for you dollar.
Once you’ve settled on a price be sure to have that exact amount available in Rupees. Otherwise the driver is likely to simply take whatever you hand him and feign ignorance saying that he gave you a fair price and that you paid. No change.
Early on, my roommate said to me, "This system is not about the fact that it doesn’t cost much money to ride. The point is that if I’m paying 4 Rs and everyone else has to pay 2 Rs I’m upset because this isn’t fair." He’s right too. One thing you’ll notice about India is that non-American things are really cheap. It doesn’t cost much to live here which is why my salary this year is somewhere around $5000 total. The drivers of rickshaws look at you as someone who has dollars. Persons living in the slums can live off less than a dollar a day per family of 4. So don’t worry about not paying 250 Rs for a cab ride even though in the USA that’s still a cheap fare. Pay the correct wage and let them get on with their business. In addition try to realize that negotiation about EVERYTHING is part of the way of life here. Just start with that attitude and you’ll only get ripped off a little bit.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
India will break your heart
I have finished my first week in India. The culture shock is intense. India will attack all your senses and never let go. My physical and mental capabilities are stretched and will remain so. Coming from Philadelphia where the usual low temperature this time of year is in the upper 30s to lower 50s the hear here is a shock. The lowest recorded temperature in Chennai is 49F. I'm sweltering constantly. The only relief I've had so far was the two day rain spell that rained out my weekend and brought the temperature down to 79F overnight on Sunday. But, of course it's not simply the heat and humidity the oppresses. Everywhere you turn there is an olfactory attack! The smells are fetid, pungent, sweet, malodorous, and simply overwhelming in every possible way. The constant smell of garbage and human waste pervades everything and everywhere. Just to mask the odors one will smell sweet incense, millions of tons of flowers used for offering at the thousands of shrines. Sweet chai and coffee, curries, fresh fruits, decaying fruits, dust, debris, mold, animal waste, car exhaust, autorickshaw exhaust, human body odor, these all shine through at every turn. My nose is already desensitizing.
The people here are extra friendly and the service can't be beat. The problem for me is seeing how hard people work for next to nothing. When I arrived I brought with me, one bookbag and two suitcases. They contained my worldly possessions. When I was taken to my apartment the institute sent a small guy to ride with us so that he could carry my bags. The guy although probably 18-20 is only 5'5" at most. My bag must have weighed as much as he does. But yet he was too proud to carry the smaller bag. He insisted on carrying my bag for me. When I tried to tip him I was refused. The universal breakthrough for me has been saying things in each persons native tongue. For the vast majority here (in Chennai) it's Tamil. For many at my work place it's Bengali. The smiles are radiant and the flash of recognition that you are welcome here even if you're not accepted is comforting to me.
All the attitudes toward people and other living creatures I have ever known in the west are completely irrelevant here. Slum dwellers are to be ignored. They do not count as people. Their only use is the provide manual labor. I have seen stray animals everywhere. They are all starving, very much like the people that surround them. Animals however garner great respect due to the Hindu religion. At least here cows won't charge you, because they don't expect to be killed for their meat. In fact cows are completely peaceful. They eat garbage off the street and lie down next to the road. I saw a dog yesterday with a hole in its leg which it had produced by chewing on its own bug bites. Another dog had chewed a hold in its testicle. My heart strings have been stripped down. I've seen dead dogs, starving dogs, starving humans, strong and healthy cows, and healthy strong people. All I know is that India does everything with such intensity;good and bad.
Somehow, a country less than a third the size of America with more than triple the population finds a way to go forward. I am beginning to suspect that India does things in such a way because it is a necessity. I don't believe that America could handle a density of population nearly ten times what it currently has.
What I know from being here a week is that India is its own bizarre little world. I am full of hope and excitement that I will learn more as the weeks go marching on. I also know that I will be heartbroken everyday by the same things that bring me so much joy.
First Attempt at a Beach Day
I shouldn't really call yesterday's adventure a "Beach Day." It was more like walking along the boardwalk after an early dinner. What I found was essentially what I had expected: bikini clad babes and buff nearly naked men trying to pick up said babes for a ride in their sweet mustang. Oh wait, that's California in the mid to late part of the 20th century. THIS, this is the Bay of Bengal in conservative south India. Let me just show you a few pictures to emphasize my point.
This must be my favorite picture of the beach so far! This is an actual bb gun firing about 5 feet away from little balloons. Moreover, there are people walking in between the wooden backings of these little prize boards. Having a still distinctly American eye toward things I have a couple problems with this. I quote "You'll shoot your eye out kid." That's why little Raplhie had so much trouble convincing someone to give him the Red Rider bb gun! Because people use them to shoot balloons from five feet away with living breathing human beings right next to the target. Of course, if you miss, then you shouldn't be shooting anyway, but there's no safety check...
You'll shoot your eye out kid!
The Fish Fry Stall: There must be 100 of these right on the beach. This, by the way, is elliot's beach near besant nagar. It's walking distance from where I work. Albeit, it's a long(ish) walk.
What to do during Lent.
These next two pictures are just general scenery at the beach. WOW, look at all that skin being shown! Go directly to the beach (with or without shoes) from your workplace or your hanging out place. Don't bother to pack a picnic or bring a case of cold beer. Just walk on down there in full dress. Also, particularly fun is being a foreigner with a camera! I went walking down there with my shoes and socks on, but this was to avoid stepping on the garbage and getting more bug bites.
Scantily Clad Indians
Ocean City, eat your heart out!
I don't know about you, but I haven't witnessed Ganesh hanging around Iowa too often. Perhaps it happens all the time and I choose to ignore it. In any case, this is supposedly American Sweet Corn. I don't know why India needs to important corn, it seems they can grow it plenty well on their own. Maybe I should buy some and claim that I'm from Illinois and this corn is not up to snuff. Perhaps I can get a discount. My price would drop from the foreigners' price back down to the normal persons' price.
Sri Ganesh visits Illinohiowa.
So there you have it dear reader, my first experience at a Tamil Nadu beach during daylight hours. I will report again once I see other beaches, but it appears my idea of being near the Bay and having the ability to take a beach day every saturday has just been shattered in a rather violent way.
This must be my favorite picture of the beach so far! This is an actual bb gun firing about 5 feet away from little balloons. Moreover, there are people walking in between the wooden backings of these little prize boards. Having a still distinctly American eye toward things I have a couple problems with this. I quote "You'll shoot your eye out kid." That's why little Raplhie had so much trouble convincing someone to give him the Red Rider bb gun! Because people use them to shoot balloons from five feet away with living breathing human beings right next to the target. Of course, if you miss, then you shouldn't be shooting anyway, but there's no safety check...
You'll shoot your eye out kid!The Fish Fry Stall: There must be 100 of these right on the beach. This, by the way, is elliot's beach near besant nagar. It's walking distance from where I work. Albeit, it's a long(ish) walk.
What to do during Lent.These next two pictures are just general scenery at the beach. WOW, look at all that skin being shown! Go directly to the beach (with or without shoes) from your workplace or your hanging out place. Don't bother to pack a picnic or bring a case of cold beer. Just walk on down there in full dress. Also, particularly fun is being a foreigner with a camera! I went walking down there with my shoes and socks on, but this was to avoid stepping on the garbage and getting more bug bites.
Scantily Clad Indians
Ocean City, eat your heart out!I don't know about you, but I haven't witnessed Ganesh hanging around Iowa too often. Perhaps it happens all the time and I choose to ignore it. In any case, this is supposedly American Sweet Corn. I don't know why India needs to important corn, it seems they can grow it plenty well on their own. Maybe I should buy some and claim that I'm from Illinois and this corn is not up to snuff. Perhaps I can get a discount. My price would drop from the foreigners' price back down to the normal persons' price.
Sri Ganesh visits Illinohiowa.So there you have it dear reader, my first experience at a Tamil Nadu beach during daylight hours. I will report again once I see other beaches, but it appears my idea of being near the Bay and having the ability to take a beach day every saturday has just been shattered in a rather violent way.
Monday, November 16, 2009
The Daily Commute
So far, my favorite part of the day has been riding the train one way or the other. The scenery is mixed between gorgeous and heartbreaking. I love standing right on the edge with the doors open. The breeze (which smells like shit) blowing right by you. On camera it would make a really good scene in a movie to pan up and down the train and see all the people just taking in their home city. I am often the only foreigner on the train. If there are other foreigners they are from this subcontinent and so I can't tell.
I walk from my apartment (still with nothing in it) down greenways road toward the greenways road railway station. I get the stares constantly. They are broken up from time to time with the ridiculously tall foreigner saying funny things like "good morning" in Tamil, or "my name is elbow" also in Tamil. Telling people my name is elbow is a confusing undertaking. They think I just don't know what word I'm looking for, when in fact I know exactly what I'm saying. It's one of the few phrases that I actually say correctly. In any case, I get stares and laughter, none of it derisive. The people here are generally friendly and love the fact that I speak their language.
I board the train and take is three stops across the Adyar River to Indira Nagar station. Cross the foot bridge over Canal Bank Road and walk a quarter mile past a couple tea stands and random stray cows, pigs, dogs, bicyclists riding 3 to a bike, and other various strange things to my humble office of the Institute of Mathematical Sciences.
This morning that all changed, probably permanently. Usually I ride in with my roommate Rakesh, but he needed extra time this morning so I rode alone. I was walking toward the train station and saw a slum dwelling woman "brushing her teeth" by scraping a brick on the stone ground, putting here right index finger in the clay and brushing... I thought that I'd seen the strangest thing I'll see all day. That lastest about two minutes. As I got to the platform a man sat next to me and he was obviously a foreigner, so I asked him if he spoke english. He doesn't really speak english, but enough for me to get by. He is from Nepal and speaks Tamil fluently. I think he works in something technological here. In any case he asked me some things I answered what I could in Tamil and he loved it. He asked how long I've been here and I said one week and then his eyes lit up. He couldn't believe I know so much Tamil for one week. So he says, "you like tea? Come." So he buys me tea at this little tea stand right near where I work. I sit down and have a chat with him and a man I assume to be a slum dweller who is also very impressed by my (admittedly lacking) Tamil. I learned a few words and will try to learn how to ask for more words. I think I have new morning tea buddies. Hopefully this will be my IN crowd for learning lots about Chennai's local language and other various things.
I walk from my apartment (still with nothing in it) down greenways road toward the greenways road railway station. I get the stares constantly. They are broken up from time to time with the ridiculously tall foreigner saying funny things like "good morning" in Tamil, or "my name is elbow" also in Tamil. Telling people my name is elbow is a confusing undertaking. They think I just don't know what word I'm looking for, when in fact I know exactly what I'm saying. It's one of the few phrases that I actually say correctly. In any case, I get stares and laughter, none of it derisive. The people here are generally friendly and love the fact that I speak their language.
I board the train and take is three stops across the Adyar River to Indira Nagar station. Cross the foot bridge over Canal Bank Road and walk a quarter mile past a couple tea stands and random stray cows, pigs, dogs, bicyclists riding 3 to a bike, and other various strange things to my humble office of the Institute of Mathematical Sciences.
This morning that all changed, probably permanently. Usually I ride in with my roommate Rakesh, but he needed extra time this morning so I rode alone. I was walking toward the train station and saw a slum dwelling woman "brushing her teeth" by scraping a brick on the stone ground, putting here right index finger in the clay and brushing... I thought that I'd seen the strangest thing I'll see all day. That lastest about two minutes. As I got to the platform a man sat next to me and he was obviously a foreigner, so I asked him if he spoke english. He doesn't really speak english, but enough for me to get by. He is from Nepal and speaks Tamil fluently. I think he works in something technological here. In any case he asked me some things I answered what I could in Tamil and he loved it. He asked how long I've been here and I said one week and then his eyes lit up. He couldn't believe I know so much Tamil for one week. So he says, "you like tea? Come." So he buys me tea at this little tea stand right near where I work. I sit down and have a chat with him and a man I assume to be a slum dweller who is also very impressed by my (admittedly lacking) Tamil. I learned a few words and will try to learn how to ask for more words. I think I have new morning tea buddies. Hopefully this will be my IN crowd for learning lots about Chennai's local language and other various things.
More Chennai Photos
Some more photos
Best laundry rack I've ever had
Entrain or detrain... Is that like Introit and detroit from a religious service?
Corruption eh? I wonder if they've seen the train stations around here.
This is VinodKumar. He is the Telugu boy to whom I was showing the wonders of the interwebs. He was writing my name in Telugu.
Part of my daily commute!
A missing boy. This poster is describing his family and his age. I was surpringly able to read about half of it. It's a real shame though, this city is so big and almost everyone without money goes completely unnoticed.
The Corndog tree. If only corndogs really grew on trees. My friend mike says he's be johny corndog seed, going up and down the east coast planting corndog trees if it were!
Here is a huge icon for chennai's small by percentage, but large by numbers christian community. They truly believe St. Thomas (doubting thomas) is buried here.
The preferred method of eating: Just dig right in. No need for utensils. This is why they take that whole, 'use your right hand only' thing so seriously. More on that in another post on Indian methodology.
The political party: DMK is the political party started to prevent hindi from becoming the national language. Tamils are very proud of their language and culture and it is very different from the hindustanis in the north. Check out these links
DMK wiki, DMK india, and DMK in tamil
The huge I.T. center: It's sort of staggering to see how huge this place really is. It also guarantees the slums close by. Interesting combination.
Best laundry rack I've ever had
Entrain or detrain... Is that like Introit and detroit from a religious service?
Corruption eh? I wonder if they've seen the train stations around here.
This is VinodKumar. He is the Telugu boy to whom I was showing the wonders of the interwebs. He was writing my name in Telugu.
Part of my daily commute!
A missing boy. This poster is describing his family and his age. I was surpringly able to read about half of it. It's a real shame though, this city is so big and almost everyone without money goes completely unnoticed.
The Corndog tree. If only corndogs really grew on trees. My friend mike says he's be johny corndog seed, going up and down the east coast planting corndog trees if it were!
Here is a huge icon for chennai's small by percentage, but large by numbers christian community. They truly believe St. Thomas (doubting thomas) is buried here.
The preferred method of eating: Just dig right in. No need for utensils. This is why they take that whole, 'use your right hand only' thing so seriously. More on that in another post on Indian methodology.
The political party: DMK is the political party started to prevent hindi from becoming the national language. Tamils are very proud of their language and culture and it is very different from the hindustanis in the north. Check out these links
DMK wiki, DMK india, and DMK in tamil
The huge I.T. center: It's sort of staggering to see how huge this place really is. It also guarantees the slums close by. Interesting combination.
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