This was my second trip down to Pondicherry. I wanted to get out of Chennai's craziness and just not deal with India for a few days. So I went down and took my sister who is visiting. I was surprised to see how the service changed somewhat. Here are three examples of shitty service (not typical as far as I can tell for Pondy)
1) We went to an internet coffee shop clearly owned by a muslim man. Above the counter he had a plaque written in English that read "Masha Allah" Which I would say as Insha'allah, but I'd forgotten that's what it meant. So I asked him about it and he said "It's an arabic word." I told him I knew it was an arabic word and wondered what it meant. He replied again "It's an Islamic word." So I left it at that. I went to check my email and such. In the meantime I'd ordered some eggs and tea. When they came I said in Arabic, "thank you very much." I had assumed this would show that I have some familiarity with Arabic and that I really had meant nothing disrespectful by my first question. The lady serving me the food was apparently his wife and she snapped at me. She said "what's with all your constant Arabic questions!?" I was taken aback and told her I had a little familiarity with it not really knowing what else to say. She said "you may speak arabic, but my husband is a muslim. Arabic is not compulsory for us to know. My husband is a devout muslim and he speaks Urdu." I had no idea "thank you very much" was a question or that it was offensive... So I didn't leave the lady a tip. The coffee and tea was overpriced anyway.
2) I wanted to withdraw some cash for some walking around money. Luckily SBI (State Bank of India) has a branch in the middle of the french quarter of Pondy with several ATMS. I was pleased and so I went to the ATM and they were both out of service. But supposedly the next closest ATM was only a few blocks away at the railway station. (Not exactly a few blocks, but whatever, I wasn't in a rush) So I walked to the railway station to find out that the SBI ATM had no cash either. I walked my sorry ass back to the bank branch and asked to withdraw some money from my account. But no, I had to take a number first. I had to wait 1/2 hour for my number to be called. Then, when it was called, the lady told me to go to the ATM. I told her is was out of order. She told me to go the other one. I told her I'd been and I only need a few thousand rupees. I have my bank card AND a valid ID. Unfortunately, they can't do that for me.... She sent me to every damn person in the bank and they subsequently sent me elsewhere. It was a miserable experience. In the end they wouldn't even give me a few thousand rupees from a bank teller EVEN WITH MY ACTIVE CARD AND VALID ID!
It turns out at 7PM they were restocking the ATM and fixing it, but no one told me that. If they'd just said, we're restocking at 7PM tonight I would've left for a while and come back at dinner time. But no one seems to know how to do anything. STUPID INDIAN BUREAUCRACY.
3) In the bar that evening, after I'd finally retrieved a little money from the ATM I went to the expat bar. They have a really lovely rooftop bar under some shade and usually playing someone's iPod. Sadly, being south India they still close at 10:30 PM. Although usually they let us sit around until close to 11. (thanks a bunch for that extra half hour of nothing <--- sarcasm) Anyway, as the Indian servers were ready to go home at 10, they cut the music off, turned the lights OFF, put all the chairs on the table. Told us it was last order, brought the bill and kicked us out. They did this at 10:05 PM! Give me a break. When the guy came to show me his clock, he'd just changed it as my sister watched him do it. I showed him we still had about 20 minutes. I was only upset because I was just starting into my second beer and he wasn't allowing me to drink it. Furthermore, I'd already paid and tipped the guy. As I'm telling him, with my drink in hand on the way downstairs to drink in the smoky den for the last few minutes, that we still have 20 minutes, he says no and says go downstairs. I tell him I'm not happy and feel like he cheated me. THEN he asks if he can get a picture with me. Talk about no sense of timing! He and his friend were the first people I've denied a picture in India. I told him there is no way after that stunt that he could take my picture. Apparently they really loved my chops. But, I was pissed off. The whole day in Pondicherry was spent getting horrible service.
Generally speaking I think this is an unusual way to spend a day in Pondy, but instead of refreshing me, it just soured me further on my time in India. Even in the resort towns people will treat you like shit. Something is terribly amiss here.
Friday, February 26, 2010
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Mamallapuram
My sister and I decided to take a week trip (not a weekend trip) to Pondicherry. The weekend seemed like it would be to crazy, and we already need a break from India. So we went, but in the meantime since Mamallapuram (commonly called Mahabalipuram) is directly en route we decided to stop there, eat lunch, take some photos, enjoy it, and then when ready catch the next bus down to Pondy. It's nice because the express buses, while crowded, crazy, and mostly uncomfortable come something like every 12 minutes and the entire trip from Chennai to Pondicherry costs Rs 48 per person. That is to say, $1 each, each way.
I can't believe I hadn't yet been to Mamallapuram! There are some really amazing old temples carved from stone into hillsides. Very intricate carvings as well. Lots of big rocks, and as my sister will point out, lots of cute goats and dogs. We spent the afternoon basically taking pictures and talking to other tourists. I got involved in a reasonably lengthy discussion of french brandy with a group of older french tourists. I think they were impressed that a dirty looking american kid knew so much about the good stuff. We then went on the Krishna's butter ball. This is a huge rock which balances in what looks like a precarious position, but really has several tons of rock weighing it down from moving. Of course, we avoided taking the standard pictures of either of us holding up the rock, instead reverted to our old ways of me acting like I was getting crushed and Amanda tasting a huge piece of "rock" candy.
I hope to get these pictures up soonish...
I can't believe I hadn't yet been to Mamallapuram! There are some really amazing old temples carved from stone into hillsides. Very intricate carvings as well. Lots of big rocks, and as my sister will point out, lots of cute goats and dogs. We spent the afternoon basically taking pictures and talking to other tourists. I got involved in a reasonably lengthy discussion of french brandy with a group of older french tourists. I think they were impressed that a dirty looking american kid knew so much about the good stuff. We then went on the Krishna's butter ball. This is a huge rock which balances in what looks like a precarious position, but really has several tons of rock weighing it down from moving. Of course, we avoided taking the standard pictures of either of us holding up the rock, instead reverted to our old ways of me acting like I was getting crushed and Amanda tasting a huge piece of "rock" candy.
I hope to get these pictures up soonish...
Sunday, February 21, 2010
A Really Good Street Fight.
Walking around campus of the Indian Institute of Technology is one of my normal passtimes here in India. It is an oasis within Chennai. Wildlife, people, calm food stands, coffee shops, it's like a real university campus without all the religious overtones that you get in America. We often see deer there, but rarely see them do anything but eat grass. Yesterday was special though. Just as we entered campus there were two males with very large horns sparing and jousting for the honor of all the doe. Slam, they engage. Scuffling, pushing, fancy footwork. Disengage. Slam, engage again. One runs another right over a bush and into the walking path. The other responds by pushing the first into a tree. This battle went on for well over 10 minutes. Then finally, one emerged victorious as the other scuffed off, defeated, shamed, and embarrassed. To make matters worse, being such a handsome deer, my sister insisted on taking many pictures of him in his state of defeat. After she got a couple, he ran off bouncing down the soccer pitch and off into the woods on the other side of campus. But THAT was a good street fight!
It's Chennaice!
Well, it finally happened. I got to party late, very, very late in Chennai. Until 4 AM late, and I wasn't even at my home institute wasting time on the internet! The invitation was through one of my exchange student friends who had already had a second hand invitation. I was at least three degrees of separation from the host. NO worries, the entrance was "bring a swimsuit, bring booze." Sounds great! My kind of party. It turned out to be an excellent party indeed. Mostly foreigners and wealthy Indians who have spent plenty of time abroad. The place was some 5 miles south of the city and on a beach with a pool and the house was enormous. Inside were many bottles of goodnesses and many interesting people. Well, what else did I find? Women wearing bikinis! In INDIA! I thought that didn't happen. Of course the party was still close to 2 men: 1 woman. Oh well, can't win 'em all. The winter olympics were on tv LIVE, and we were sweating our asses off in the new chennai summer heat. What a treat!
Quote of the night, however, goes to the title of this post. I was briefly talking to some girl from southern california and she asked me how I like Chennai. Of course, I'm soured on it so I told her so. She was not happy to hear that. She said, "come on, it's Chennaice!" I was basically done with the conversation at that point. She told me how much she parties and how much she likes it here. Basically, we have seen completely different Chennais. I seen the one where the are very few English speakers and almost no foreigners. She has seen the one where foreigners who have obscene amounts of money can host parties because India is cheap relative to America. In any case, I enjoyed the hell out of myself listening to a nearly naked drunken german man playing saxophone by the pool to some mildly decent techno music, talking to native english speakers who have traveled the world and had interesting stories to tell, and drinking booze with them. So for the first time I could say I had a chennaice time. I was lucky enough to make acquaintances with several DJs around town and getting the numbers of some people who host similar parties around town. Hopefully this won't be a one time deal. So, maybe Chennai is beginning to look up in the smallest way.
Quote of the night, however, goes to the title of this post. I was briefly talking to some girl from southern california and she asked me how I like Chennai. Of course, I'm soured on it so I told her so. She was not happy to hear that. She said, "come on, it's Chennaice!" I was basically done with the conversation at that point. She told me how much she parties and how much she likes it here. Basically, we have seen completely different Chennais. I seen the one where the are very few English speakers and almost no foreigners. She has seen the one where foreigners who have obscene amounts of money can host parties because India is cheap relative to America. In any case, I enjoyed the hell out of myself listening to a nearly naked drunken german man playing saxophone by the pool to some mildly decent techno music, talking to native english speakers who have traveled the world and had interesting stories to tell, and drinking booze with them. So for the first time I could say I had a chennaice time. I was lucky enough to make acquaintances with several DJs around town and getting the numbers of some people who host similar parties around town. Hopefully this won't be a one time deal. So, maybe Chennai is beginning to look up in the smallest way.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Craftsmanship
As I was sitting in a tailor shop in R.A.Puram in Chennai I realized several things about life. When I came to India I only brought with me a few books. As far as novels, only one; Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. I've read that book now maybe 7 times and am halfway through it again. In the beginning of the book, the narrator is talking about doing good work. He gives an anecdote of when he didn't know how to repair his own motorcycle and took it to a shop where the music was loud and the "mechanics" were very sloppy and looked like they didn't care. He then talks about how a real mechanic isn't talking on the job and doesn't really like to be disturbed while he's working because he's thinking hard as to why the machine in front of him seems not to be working.
I thought maybe these are generalizations and this one only one specific case. Perhaps that's right, but I saw something very similar today.
My sister is visiting Chennai now for a matter of two weeks and I'm a little embarrassed by my city. I wish I could show her some other city in India and say "look how great this place is." But no, she has to settle for Chennai for now. We're out of the cultural season, the weather is hot and sticky again, and the filth is incredible. So, what do I do with a vegetarian who likes hot weather and fabric... Well, I guess just act normally. We went fabric shopping yesterday so my sister could get some more weather appropriate gear. Of course, we bought a sarree and had it altered. It turns out my sister is taller than most men in India, so just buying something for her is out of the question. When we went to pick up the sarree after alterations I waited while she tried on her knew clothes and simply watched the tailor and the seamster working. They had a radio on quietly playing some Tamil music, but that was it. They were each working with incredible attention to detail and I watched the tailor cut some fabric impossibly thin with enormous scissors. I was entranced and then my spell was broken by the damn mosquitoes eating away at my ankles.
After that I had to move around to avoid getting bitten so much and just check in to watch the tailors when possible. It was a funny time to notice all this because I'd just been complaining about all the chaos in India and how very few things are done truly well. I guess what I meant to say was that most things done in mass are done porrly in India. But these two tailors changed my mind. Cool, calm, collected, and meticulous. I was a good show. So after all the negotiations I went through to get a cheaper price, I ended up tipping it back to the tailors.
I thought maybe these are generalizations and this one only one specific case. Perhaps that's right, but I saw something very similar today.
My sister is visiting Chennai now for a matter of two weeks and I'm a little embarrassed by my city. I wish I could show her some other city in India and say "look how great this place is." But no, she has to settle for Chennai for now. We're out of the cultural season, the weather is hot and sticky again, and the filth is incredible. So, what do I do with a vegetarian who likes hot weather and fabric... Well, I guess just act normally. We went fabric shopping yesterday so my sister could get some more weather appropriate gear. Of course, we bought a sarree and had it altered. It turns out my sister is taller than most men in India, so just buying something for her is out of the question. When we went to pick up the sarree after alterations I waited while she tried on her knew clothes and simply watched the tailor and the seamster working. They had a radio on quietly playing some Tamil music, but that was it. They were each working with incredible attention to detail and I watched the tailor cut some fabric impossibly thin with enormous scissors. I was entranced and then my spell was broken by the damn mosquitoes eating away at my ankles.
After that I had to move around to avoid getting bitten so much and just check in to watch the tailors when possible. It was a funny time to notice all this because I'd just been complaining about all the chaos in India and how very few things are done truly well. I guess what I meant to say was that most things done in mass are done porrly in India. But these two tailors changed my mind. Cool, calm, collected, and meticulous. I was a good show. So after all the negotiations I went through to get a cheaper price, I ended up tipping it back to the tailors.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Becoming a local goonda
Riding a bicycle around Chennai creates all kinds of troubles that I didn't expect, but in hindsight should already have known better. The biggest issue that I face that I didn't expect is that along the I.T. parkway there is a very nice, very wide, and almost clean bicycle lane. This bike lane is not part of the normal road. There is a barrier separating the parkway from the bike lane. Along the bike lane a little branch streets where institutes and schools and hospitals are located. What's also nice about this bike lane is that there are MANY placards placed into the ground indicating bicycles. It is not a lane for driving. The only acceptable driving in this lane is for private cars going to schools and hospitals. They only need to be in this lane for a matter of 50-100m. Not very far at all. Certainly not far enough to need to run over a bicyclist. Running over bicyclists should be reserved for Adyar signal and the Thiravika Palam (bridge). Of course, I deal with oncoming buses, and 100s of motorcycles coming at me and the normal onslaught of livestock in those places, but the bike lane really,really should be free of all this nonsense. It's right next to a perfect road for the love of god (or the many gods of the hindu pantheon). Well, this being India... No such luck.
Of course I have to deal with rickshaws driving up and down both ways in my nice "calm" bike lane. Of course I have to deal with private taxis and all that shit. The other day there is a particularly narrow little stretch. It's wide enough for two cars if both of them ride with their tires grazing the curb. Fortunately, this narrow stretch is not very long and so it can be traversed rather quickly. While riding on it the other morning a taxi was coming from behind and honking. I moved a little to one side, but not so much that he could just speed by me. I figured he can pass, but he'll have to do it slowly or he'll hit me, or run into the wall. Again, as I have discovered in India I'm ALWAYS WRONG ABOUT EVERYTHING! (except for being wrong about being wrong... Damn you metaphysics!) The bastard honked more and more as he approached and roared by me, barely missing me by perhaps 2 inches. I started screaming at him, "This is a BIKE LANE! Bicycles only!" Of course that did no good, he was already gone. He had to slow up ahead and I was racing to catch him to make sure I could tap on his window and yell some more. But he finally pulled away.
It got me thinking though... If I really want the bike lane for bicycles (I guess motorcycles and scooters are acceptable too, since the overall designation is "two-wheelers") then I gotta start taking some action. I think that I should take the following actions:
I should procure a police barricade. Maybe I'll steal it, maybe I'll pay off a police man, maybe I can just buy it from someone else crooked... Any way it's possible I should get one (or two or three, enough to block off my little biking section).
I should give the rickshaw drivers hell! Charge them 100 Rs just to drive their little yellow mosquito taxis on my nice bike lane. Scratch that, 500 Rs per mosquito driver! The private taxis will incur the same wrath.
I'll be making cash hand over fist! I told this plan to some locals and they love it. But immediately, they said that I'd be a local goonda. Oh well, I guess I'd have to start paying off police to protect what should already be protected! But hey, if you want something done, you gotta do it yourself sometimes.
So tonight, I drink to becoming a mafia of one man, working to protect bicyclists in Chennai from stupid ass autowallas!
Of course I have to deal with rickshaws driving up and down both ways in my nice "calm" bike lane. Of course I have to deal with private taxis and all that shit. The other day there is a particularly narrow little stretch. It's wide enough for two cars if both of them ride with their tires grazing the curb. Fortunately, this narrow stretch is not very long and so it can be traversed rather quickly. While riding on it the other morning a taxi was coming from behind and honking. I moved a little to one side, but not so much that he could just speed by me. I figured he can pass, but he'll have to do it slowly or he'll hit me, or run into the wall. Again, as I have discovered in India I'm ALWAYS WRONG ABOUT EVERYTHING! (except for being wrong about being wrong... Damn you metaphysics!) The bastard honked more and more as he approached and roared by me, barely missing me by perhaps 2 inches. I started screaming at him, "This is a BIKE LANE! Bicycles only!" Of course that did no good, he was already gone. He had to slow up ahead and I was racing to catch him to make sure I could tap on his window and yell some more. But he finally pulled away.
It got me thinking though... If I really want the bike lane for bicycles (I guess motorcycles and scooters are acceptable too, since the overall designation is "two-wheelers") then I gotta start taking some action. I think that I should take the following actions:
I should procure a police barricade. Maybe I'll steal it, maybe I'll pay off a police man, maybe I can just buy it from someone else crooked... Any way it's possible I should get one (or two or three, enough to block off my little biking section).
I should give the rickshaw drivers hell! Charge them 100 Rs just to drive their little yellow mosquito taxis on my nice bike lane. Scratch that, 500 Rs per mosquito driver! The private taxis will incur the same wrath.
I'll be making cash hand over fist! I told this plan to some locals and they love it. But immediately, they said that I'd be a local goonda. Oh well, I guess I'd have to start paying off police to protect what should already be protected! But hey, if you want something done, you gotta do it yourself sometimes.
So tonight, I drink to becoming a mafia of one man, working to protect bicyclists in Chennai from stupid ass autowallas!
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Ash Wednesday
There are very few things I do that outwardly show that I actually practice as an Episcopalian. Partly because no one knows (including episcopalians) what it is that episcopalians really believe in. However, there is exactly one season that I really do take seriously and that is Lent. As it is, Ash Wednesday is a big deal to me. So yesterday, being Ash Wednesday and all, I decided I needed to get ashes rubbed on my forehead. It looked bleak. I don't really know of any "closeby" churches that are anglican or even remotely close to anglican. I know there is a big catholic church, but that's quite a hike, and I have no idea when their services are. Well, as it was, I went out with some visitors from Poland last night. We walked over toward Elliot's beach and decided to have dinner. On the way, I got a stiff reminder that I'd missed ash wednesday... I saw several hundred people walking the other direction with ashes on their foreheads... Then I realized that the big church right on the beach is catholic. So, appealing to the Poles (97% are catholic) I asked if I could run over and see the church. They walked over with me, and I ran over to where I could get the imposition of ashes. I did my little E-team prayers within the catholic church and asked some gentleman to put ashes on me. That was that. I actually somehow managed to not miss ash wednesday entirely. In fact I was even bold enough to walk around with ashes on my forehead for the entire evening thereafter. In the United States it's not a problem. Ash Wednesday is not usually in a time of year in which sweat will wash away the ashes in minutes. I had to refrain from wiping my forehead every few seconds. After a while, the ashes were gone anyway. But, in India, where it is so often necessary to state your religious affiliation openly, I try to avoid that entirely. I will however make an exception on one day a year. That day was yesterday and I got to have an approximate Beginning to Lent. I gotta figure out what to do when Easter rolls around...
Jack Fruit Season is IN
And I for one am excited about it. I was riding into work the other day and was a touch hungry, saw a street side fruit seller and decided to stop because he had cut up some of his fruit in fancy ways. As I got closer I noticed it was jackfruit! Score! I had seen jackfruit down in Sri Lanka and wondered why I hadn't seen it in Chennai. They are both WELL into the tropics and only a few hundred miles separate the two. What's the difference. I guessed maybe pollution, but somehow India manages to get around this problem of letting pollution spoil anything. So thick you can't see the sun... Not yet, ok keep working...
Anyway, I bought me some jackfruit. It is very delicious. For those friends of mine who dislike bananas, perhaps you might have a softer introduction with jackfruit. I had eaten it in America, but it is much blander there. Here, when fresh it has a mildly pungent aroma, not too dissimilar from the infamous durian, but not THAT kind of pungent. The kind of pungent that after you eat it, you'll smell it on your hands for a while. The lingering smell has the faintest sulfurous notes... (that kind of pungent). Otherwise it's really a cross between a banana and a pineapple but softer than either.
I do have an amusing anecdote about it though. At lunch, the last few pieces of jackfruit hadn't yet been eaten so I offered a little to my colleagues. One of them is a graduate student from Tamil Nadu, and he "explained" to me that jackfruit is a tropical fruit and therefore doesn't grow in the winter... WTF!? Winter!? If we just had "winter" then I'm going to struggling mightily in another month or two just to stay alive. It seems quite strange that a tropical fruit won't grow when the lowest temperature outside is about 80F...
Well, either way, I guess that means a long summer season and I anticipate stopping by fruit sellers all "summer" to buy me some fresh papaya and jackfruit. Mangoes are coming soon I'm told.
Anyway, I bought me some jackfruit. It is very delicious. For those friends of mine who dislike bananas, perhaps you might have a softer introduction with jackfruit. I had eaten it in America, but it is much blander there. Here, when fresh it has a mildly pungent aroma, not too dissimilar from the infamous durian, but not THAT kind of pungent. The kind of pungent that after you eat it, you'll smell it on your hands for a while. The lingering smell has the faintest sulfurous notes... (that kind of pungent). Otherwise it's really a cross between a banana and a pineapple but softer than either.
I do have an amusing anecdote about it though. At lunch, the last few pieces of jackfruit hadn't yet been eaten so I offered a little to my colleagues. One of them is a graduate student from Tamil Nadu, and he "explained" to me that jackfruit is a tropical fruit and therefore doesn't grow in the winter... WTF!? Winter!? If we just had "winter" then I'm going to struggling mightily in another month or two just to stay alive. It seems quite strange that a tropical fruit won't grow when the lowest temperature outside is about 80F...
Well, either way, I guess that means a long summer season and I anticipate stopping by fruit sellers all "summer" to buy me some fresh papaya and jackfruit. Mangoes are coming soon I'm told.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
A riding partner
Last night, I stayed up until an obscene hour at the institute chatting with a visiting professor, and my two good friends here. We may or may not have killed an entire bottle of rum. I'm not saying whether or not we did, just that there isn't any left today. That's ok, it was Mardi Gras, or as we anglicans call it "shrove tuesday."
Our conversation ranged over all the topics in the world; sports, international politics, travel, women, booze, science, and other things of less importance. I think the main focus was the Italian trying to convince the Indian to go pursue his dream girl in Romania... This is an incredibly long story, but I'll leave it at that. After much prodding and convincing (and some more rum) I think he/we finally convinced our indian friend of the necessity of this move. After that, I left the office ~4. Oof.
Well, I decided to take my friend's bicycle again and ride back to my apartment. Well, the traffic had already started picking back up. Like I'd said once before, Chennai is all about the morning life. By the time I returned to my neighborhood ~4:30 a few restaurants had already opened for breakfast and there were several young men running around and playing in the street. I guess they were setting up for some other cultural festival, but I have no idea what it is. In any case all this really was happening at 4:30 AM.
Well, before I returned to my neighborhood's buzzing morning, I was riding through a relatively quieter area of town known as Adyar. This is where I generally hang out in the evening because it has the closest approximation of a night life for indians that I have found. It also happens to be halfway between work and apartment. So at Four in the morning it was still quiet, except for one kid. I was riding my friend's undersized overweight bike with a low back tire (and no place to pump it up in the middle of the night) and a much smaller kid zooms by me on his nice new back with a basket. He gets a good long stare at me (no worry of being hit by a car at this hour) and then slows dramatically to ride with me. It pleased me so, that he should want to ride WITH me at this ludicrous hour of the morning. He didn't speak a word of english. But nonetheless I said my 6 words in Tamil and he said his (perhaps 2 words he actually speaks) bit in "english." He said "Where going?" Good question. I told him R.A. Puram (which sounds in tamil more like "AR yay purdum") and he nodded. I returned the question, of course in english. He said "paper" which is a tamil adoption from english for "newspaper." He is a PAPERBOY! I was up late enough to ride TO WORK with a paperboy. Oh man, happy mardi gras. I guess now should be my season for penance.
Or perhaps, if I wait around to go home with the working crowd in america, I might run into the paperboy again and next time say a couple more stupid things in tamil and continue to embarrass myself thoroughly.
Our conversation ranged over all the topics in the world; sports, international politics, travel, women, booze, science, and other things of less importance. I think the main focus was the Italian trying to convince the Indian to go pursue his dream girl in Romania... This is an incredibly long story, but I'll leave it at that. After much prodding and convincing (and some more rum) I think he/we finally convinced our indian friend of the necessity of this move. After that, I left the office ~4. Oof.
Well, I decided to take my friend's bicycle again and ride back to my apartment. Well, the traffic had already started picking back up. Like I'd said once before, Chennai is all about the morning life. By the time I returned to my neighborhood ~4:30 a few restaurants had already opened for breakfast and there were several young men running around and playing in the street. I guess they were setting up for some other cultural festival, but I have no idea what it is. In any case all this really was happening at 4:30 AM.
Well, before I returned to my neighborhood's buzzing morning, I was riding through a relatively quieter area of town known as Adyar. This is where I generally hang out in the evening because it has the closest approximation of a night life for indians that I have found. It also happens to be halfway between work and apartment. So at Four in the morning it was still quiet, except for one kid. I was riding my friend's undersized overweight bike with a low back tire (and no place to pump it up in the middle of the night) and a much smaller kid zooms by me on his nice new back with a basket. He gets a good long stare at me (no worry of being hit by a car at this hour) and then slows dramatically to ride with me. It pleased me so, that he should want to ride WITH me at this ludicrous hour of the morning. He didn't speak a word of english. But nonetheless I said my 6 words in Tamil and he said his (perhaps 2 words he actually speaks) bit in "english." He said "Where going?" Good question. I told him R.A. Puram (which sounds in tamil more like "AR yay purdum") and he nodded. I returned the question, of course in english. He said "paper" which is a tamil adoption from english for "newspaper." He is a PAPERBOY! I was up late enough to ride TO WORK with a paperboy. Oh man, happy mardi gras. I guess now should be my season for penance.
Or perhaps, if I wait around to go home with the working crowd in america, I might run into the paperboy again and next time say a couple more stupid things in tamil and continue to embarrass myself thoroughly.
Monday, February 15, 2010
The shallow angle approach
Hanging out late at the office means that I miss the train home. Sometimes my friend loans me his bicycle (which is embarrassingly small for me) and I bike home in the middle of the night. This generally requires me bike back. This morning I came in during the 9:00 AM hour. STUPID MOVE. That really was a stupid move on my part. At that hour of the morning the traffic was so heavy that I basically had to walk the bicycle all the way back to my institute.
I did notice a couple of interesting things that I hadn't understood before about why traffic is so horrendous. I know already that the volume is too much. There are too many people, and too few rules. Might makes right. Everyone wants to get to his own destination first and forget everyone else. So some examples of this today:
A lady on a scooter had fallen on the main bridge I have to cross. I stopped and went into the middle of the street amidst the traffic to basically put my hand in front of the cars and motorcycles approaching en mass. There were two other men who came to help her pick up her scooter. I was frightened really for this woman's life because the traffic is so relentless. I could see that the next vehicle behind her was a bus and after the bus were hundreds of motorcycles and scooters honking and yelling because they couldn't see the hold up. They raced by on one side of the bus to get around, nearly everyone of them hitting this poor lady. I'm sure she got nudged in the first place and that's why her scooter went down. ARGH! I wanted to punch about 50 people. Another funny incident is that when I was finally able to get into the bike lane there was a student riding along my same path. He was pedaling with his heels! I hate that so much. Anyway, I'm riding a bike that is too heavy and too short to go quickly, but you know what, I put a lot of power into pedaling with my CALVES! So I passed this kid who was pedaling all funny, and he sees this, so races past me. I get up to a comfortable speed and am catching back up with him, then he sees that I'm catching up as he turns around and starts really pedaling fast. he turns around several times and each time makes sure that I won't catch him. I was happy enough that he rode on, because his pedalin was really getting on my nerves! But somehow it seems normal that no one in India likes being passed. I MUST GET TO WHERE I'M GOING BEFORE YOU GET TO WHERE I'M GOING!!!
So on that note... The shallow angle approach is what I believe to be one of the key ingredients to all this mass chaos and disorder. I was riding by a gas station (or petrol station in the local parlance) and parked in front was a little yellow mosquito taxi (autorickshaw) and behind that were people emerging from the station. I had to stop and wait for several to pass, because they were ALL coming out inches from the rickshaw! They were coming along the shortest possible path they could toward to be in traffic. So they approached from this very shallow angle. All of a sudden they are on the extreme leftmost (driving on the left) edge of traffic. I notice this when I hire taxis to the airport and such. They driver gets to a road entrance, and doesn't bother with the right angle turn, just sort of merges into traffic as he sees fit. It's that crazy entrance into traffic. I think they all believe that as long as they just come into traffic they won't have to wait even one more second. I hadn't noticed this in lines for things (queues) such as buying train tickets, but now that I think back on it, this happens all the time. Some jackass comes from the extreme left or right end and just slides laterally into your spot. ARGH!
In case it has not been made explicitly clear in this post... I DO NOT approve of the shallow angle approach to driving in India. I really believe it causes more chaos and confusion and generally slows down traffic rather than speeds it up. Perhaps Chennai should enforce some serious tolls on it's bridges and cause ways. That might alleviate SOME things. Traffic tickets I'm sure won't mean anything. Well, all that said, while I don't approve of this hectic driving or (non)technique, it is truly interesting to witness it in large crowds.
I did notice a couple of interesting things that I hadn't understood before about why traffic is so horrendous. I know already that the volume is too much. There are too many people, and too few rules. Might makes right. Everyone wants to get to his own destination first and forget everyone else. So some examples of this today:
A lady on a scooter had fallen on the main bridge I have to cross. I stopped and went into the middle of the street amidst the traffic to basically put my hand in front of the cars and motorcycles approaching en mass. There were two other men who came to help her pick up her scooter. I was frightened really for this woman's life because the traffic is so relentless. I could see that the next vehicle behind her was a bus and after the bus were hundreds of motorcycles and scooters honking and yelling because they couldn't see the hold up. They raced by on one side of the bus to get around, nearly everyone of them hitting this poor lady. I'm sure she got nudged in the first place and that's why her scooter went down. ARGH! I wanted to punch about 50 people. Another funny incident is that when I was finally able to get into the bike lane there was a student riding along my same path. He was pedaling with his heels! I hate that so much. Anyway, I'm riding a bike that is too heavy and too short to go quickly, but you know what, I put a lot of power into pedaling with my CALVES! So I passed this kid who was pedaling all funny, and he sees this, so races past me. I get up to a comfortable speed and am catching back up with him, then he sees that I'm catching up as he turns around and starts really pedaling fast. he turns around several times and each time makes sure that I won't catch him. I was happy enough that he rode on, because his pedalin was really getting on my nerves! But somehow it seems normal that no one in India likes being passed. I MUST GET TO WHERE I'M GOING BEFORE YOU GET TO WHERE I'M GOING!!!
So on that note... The shallow angle approach is what I believe to be one of the key ingredients to all this mass chaos and disorder. I was riding by a gas station (or petrol station in the local parlance) and parked in front was a little yellow mosquito taxi (autorickshaw) and behind that were people emerging from the station. I had to stop and wait for several to pass, because they were ALL coming out inches from the rickshaw! They were coming along the shortest possible path they could toward to be in traffic. So they approached from this very shallow angle. All of a sudden they are on the extreme leftmost (driving on the left) edge of traffic. I notice this when I hire taxis to the airport and such. They driver gets to a road entrance, and doesn't bother with the right angle turn, just sort of merges into traffic as he sees fit. It's that crazy entrance into traffic. I think they all believe that as long as they just come into traffic they won't have to wait even one more second. I hadn't noticed this in lines for things (queues) such as buying train tickets, but now that I think back on it, this happens all the time. Some jackass comes from the extreme left or right end and just slides laterally into your spot. ARGH!
In case it has not been made explicitly clear in this post... I DO NOT approve of the shallow angle approach to driving in India. I really believe it causes more chaos and confusion and generally slows down traffic rather than speeds it up. Perhaps Chennai should enforce some serious tolls on it's bridges and cause ways. That might alleviate SOME things. Traffic tickets I'm sure won't mean anything. Well, all that said, while I don't approve of this hectic driving or (non)technique, it is truly interesting to witness it in large crowds.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Three month review: What I like about Chennai
I should begin by saying I do not intend for this post to be a myriad of bank-handed compliments, but my presentation and cynicism may thwart that goal.
First things first,
1) I love papaya! I knew I liked it before, but getting to eat fresh papaya almost everyday... I freaking love it. It's so much better straight from the tree. I just cut it in half lengthwise and go for it with a spoon. Messy, delicious, and everything I want out of a papaya.
2) The trains are really cool. I wish America had a train system as extensive and USEFUL as India's. Chennai's local metro has its problems, but in general the trains are cool. I really like riding next to the open doors. It's kind of thrilling. There is no box around you when you're at the doors. In fact, traveling from one city to another via trains is very good fun. I haven't done the overnight thing yet, but I suppose I will soon enough. For now, the 4 hour rides are all I have taken.
3) Cricket: I've made mention of enjoying it. But I think what is so cool about it is that the whole country is really nuts for it. Without a strong secondary sport, everyone just gets behind the only game in town. When you go to a little street side restaurant or a bar or sit around on a train long enough, its a topic of conversation bound to come up. I like the idea that it is in some sense a unifying game within a nation that is otherwise SO disjointed.
4) Bar snacks: I can't say that I really like the bars here, but they at least do one thing right. They will bring essentially unlimited snacks. The better the bar (up until you get to a 5 star hotel) the better the snacks. The 5-star hotel bars have "good" selection of drinks, but are totally missing out on the snacks. Again, at one good bar I can get fresh papaya, cucumber, roasted chick peas, all kinds of fried goodies, sweets, you name it. Generally no meat, but otherwise the snacks are a free for all.
5) Fast food here is actually good. Fast food here, as far as I can tell, just means food that's prepared fast. If you're walking along the streets you can just stop in and buy some south indian specialties (dosas, idlis, pongal) for almost no money. It comes out in a matter of a minute or two. STUPIDLY delicious.
6) The sweets shops are ubiquitous. I've discovered Indians have a bit of a sweet tooth. With that in mind the sweets shops are kind of all over the place and they sell all manner of delicious goodies from cakes to indian desserts whose names I can't remember for again almost no money.
7) The Kolam designs are awesome: Walking around South India (much more than North India) you'll notice the Kolam chalkings all over. They are meant as blessings, but it's nice to have a new one in front of my house every morning. Some of them get very ornate, especially in front of important ministers' houses.
8) The middle of the night is quiet. Since Chennai has ZERO night life, walking around in the middle of the night is a lot of fun. The cars and motorcycles and buses are not so oppressive and crowding as in the middle of the day. I generally don't have to worry about people staring at me, because they are all sleeping. I generally WALK the 6km from my office to my apartment since the train stops running early, and there isn't really anyone on the road when I want to go home.
9) Safety and Security: For being boring, Chennai certainly has the huge merit of being mostly safe. It's much, much safer than any major city in America. I haven't been accosted by anyone other than a disgruntled rickshaw driver. I can't even really count him within the scope of humanity. Rickshaw drivers are basically equivalent to mosquitoes. So aside from that, I haven't had trouble with theft or violence at all. A friend of mine had a bicycle (generally unlocked) stolen from him after SEVEN MONTHS. I couldn't believe it.
All things being held equal. I will be more than happy to leave Chennai when the appropriate time comes, but for now I'll try to enjoy the cool things that it affords me. No sense in HATING where you live without at least TRYING to enjoy the good stuff around you while you've got it...
First things first,
1) I love papaya! I knew I liked it before, but getting to eat fresh papaya almost everyday... I freaking love it. It's so much better straight from the tree. I just cut it in half lengthwise and go for it with a spoon. Messy, delicious, and everything I want out of a papaya.
2) The trains are really cool. I wish America had a train system as extensive and USEFUL as India's. Chennai's local metro has its problems, but in general the trains are cool. I really like riding next to the open doors. It's kind of thrilling. There is no box around you when you're at the doors. In fact, traveling from one city to another via trains is very good fun. I haven't done the overnight thing yet, but I suppose I will soon enough. For now, the 4 hour rides are all I have taken.
3) Cricket: I've made mention of enjoying it. But I think what is so cool about it is that the whole country is really nuts for it. Without a strong secondary sport, everyone just gets behind the only game in town. When you go to a little street side restaurant or a bar or sit around on a train long enough, its a topic of conversation bound to come up. I like the idea that it is in some sense a unifying game within a nation that is otherwise SO disjointed.
4) Bar snacks: I can't say that I really like the bars here, but they at least do one thing right. They will bring essentially unlimited snacks. The better the bar (up until you get to a 5 star hotel) the better the snacks. The 5-star hotel bars have "good" selection of drinks, but are totally missing out on the snacks. Again, at one good bar I can get fresh papaya, cucumber, roasted chick peas, all kinds of fried goodies, sweets, you name it. Generally no meat, but otherwise the snacks are a free for all.
5) Fast food here is actually good. Fast food here, as far as I can tell, just means food that's prepared fast. If you're walking along the streets you can just stop in and buy some south indian specialties (dosas, idlis, pongal) for almost no money. It comes out in a matter of a minute or two. STUPIDLY delicious.
6) The sweets shops are ubiquitous. I've discovered Indians have a bit of a sweet tooth. With that in mind the sweets shops are kind of all over the place and they sell all manner of delicious goodies from cakes to indian desserts whose names I can't remember for again almost no money.
7) The Kolam designs are awesome: Walking around South India (much more than North India) you'll notice the Kolam chalkings all over. They are meant as blessings, but it's nice to have a new one in front of my house every morning. Some of them get very ornate, especially in front of important ministers' houses.
8) The middle of the night is quiet. Since Chennai has ZERO night life, walking around in the middle of the night is a lot of fun. The cars and motorcycles and buses are not so oppressive and crowding as in the middle of the day. I generally don't have to worry about people staring at me, because they are all sleeping. I generally WALK the 6km from my office to my apartment since the train stops running early, and there isn't really anyone on the road when I want to go home.
9) Safety and Security: For being boring, Chennai certainly has the huge merit of being mostly safe. It's much, much safer than any major city in America. I haven't been accosted by anyone other than a disgruntled rickshaw driver. I can't even really count him within the scope of humanity. Rickshaw drivers are basically equivalent to mosquitoes. So aside from that, I haven't had trouble with theft or violence at all. A friend of mine had a bicycle (generally unlocked) stolen from him after SEVEN MONTHS. I couldn't believe it.
All things being held equal. I will be more than happy to leave Chennai when the appropriate time comes, but for now I'll try to enjoy the cool things that it affords me. No sense in HATING where you live without at least TRYING to enjoy the good stuff around you while you've got it...
A multitude of cultural happenings part 2
February 14: A day that like September 11 is marred in the minds of Lebanese worldwide. While Feb 14 is Valentine's day (an absurd made up holiday) in most of the rest of the world, it marks the day on which former Lebanese PM Rafic Hariri was assassinated by pro-Syrian forces.
I quick note on Valentine's Day: I generally dislike the whole ordeal, but many of you know that I'm not the world's most romantic individual. I'm quite mellow, and see things through the lens of numbers. I don't generally go for some large corporation telling me that I'm supposed to go buy roses and dinner for my significant other on some certain day. I'd buy dinner for her anyway... Also, I'm not really into flowers, sorry mom! But, just so we can be clear about whose day it is we are celebrating I figure I should at least mention the following. There are several men known as St. Valentine, but none of these had anything to do with romantic love. They were all martyrs of the early roman church. Where we get the idea of romance from St. Valentine I have no idea. I suspect Hallmark is behind it all.
Ok, enough said about a Holiday I generally tend to ignore, or cynically label as "single's awareness day." On to the more important subject of Rafic Hariri. While I was in Lebanon a couple weeks ago, the news was buzzing with a few stories. Of course, the Ethiopian Airlines crash, but also the preparations for Feb 14. Today in Beirut, Saad Hariri, son of Rafic Hariri and current Prime Minister, is to address crowds at Martyrs square in downtown Beirut. For the last five years, the Lebanese have been vehemently anti-Syrian (as Syria backs Hezbollah <--- not a fan) and generally causes many nuisances in Lebanon. However, Saad Hariri, visited Syria a while back and has now begun to try and ally Syria with Lebanon. I guess he won't be speaking with such venomous rhetoric toward his neighbors this year. I'm not sure where I stand on the issue. It seems Lebanon could do well to be friends with its neighbors, but I don't think this statement is unique to Lebanon. Rather EVERY COUNTRY could do well to be friends with its neighbors! (India, take note)
Now according to Business Week Lebanon will take this anniversary to demand more of a say in its own internal affairs. I think this is just a sham. Part of the problem with Lebanon having any say is that Hezbollah (<--- not a fan) is stronger than Lebanon's pathetic army. However, their backing comes from outside and now they have plenty of parliamentary seats. In addition, as long as they as occupying Lebanon's nice agricultural areas (in the wine region) and the southern port cities near Israel, there WILL be conflicts. UGH.
I wish this day could be a recollection of what truly decent people who have money can do for the world. Rafic Hariri built with his own money a PUBLIC university that one of my cousins now attends. He built bridges, paved roads, built other infrastructures from his pocket and spent a lot of energy re-investing in Lebanon. He had even begun an initiative to bring back some of Lebanon's most talented ex-patriates. In fact, one of the men assassinated with him was the minister of industry. Under his guidance Lebanese industry had a strong resurgence in just a few short years. These were the good works of Hariri and his compatriots. Today, we will have to endure more political bullshit about little bitty countries who hate each other and arguing over outdated religions, rather than celebrating the good works of a good man. Perhaps we can straighten all this out in a hundred years or so.
Whatever happens, just please, please, please, please do not let Hezbollah (<---- not a fan) take over the government entirely. They would destroy Lebanon's brilliant wine industry. And THAT is something for which I will not stand!
I quick note on Valentine's Day: I generally dislike the whole ordeal, but many of you know that I'm not the world's most romantic individual. I'm quite mellow, and see things through the lens of numbers. I don't generally go for some large corporation telling me that I'm supposed to go buy roses and dinner for my significant other on some certain day. I'd buy dinner for her anyway... Also, I'm not really into flowers, sorry mom! But, just so we can be clear about whose day it is we are celebrating I figure I should at least mention the following. There are several men known as St. Valentine, but none of these had anything to do with romantic love. They were all martyrs of the early roman church. Where we get the idea of romance from St. Valentine I have no idea. I suspect Hallmark is behind it all.
Ok, enough said about a Holiday I generally tend to ignore, or cynically label as "single's awareness day." On to the more important subject of Rafic Hariri. While I was in Lebanon a couple weeks ago, the news was buzzing with a few stories. Of course, the Ethiopian Airlines crash, but also the preparations for Feb 14. Today in Beirut, Saad Hariri, son of Rafic Hariri and current Prime Minister, is to address crowds at Martyrs square in downtown Beirut. For the last five years, the Lebanese have been vehemently anti-Syrian (as Syria backs Hezbollah <--- not a fan) and generally causes many nuisances in Lebanon. However, Saad Hariri, visited Syria a while back and has now begun to try and ally Syria with Lebanon. I guess he won't be speaking with such venomous rhetoric toward his neighbors this year. I'm not sure where I stand on the issue. It seems Lebanon could do well to be friends with its neighbors, but I don't think this statement is unique to Lebanon. Rather EVERY COUNTRY could do well to be friends with its neighbors! (India, take note)
Now according to Business Week Lebanon will take this anniversary to demand more of a say in its own internal affairs. I think this is just a sham. Part of the problem with Lebanon having any say is that Hezbollah (<--- not a fan) is stronger than Lebanon's pathetic army. However, their backing comes from outside and now they have plenty of parliamentary seats. In addition, as long as they as occupying Lebanon's nice agricultural areas (in the wine region) and the southern port cities near Israel, there WILL be conflicts. UGH.
I wish this day could be a recollection of what truly decent people who have money can do for the world. Rafic Hariri built with his own money a PUBLIC university that one of my cousins now attends. He built bridges, paved roads, built other infrastructures from his pocket and spent a lot of energy re-investing in Lebanon. He had even begun an initiative to bring back some of Lebanon's most talented ex-patriates. In fact, one of the men assassinated with him was the minister of industry. Under his guidance Lebanese industry had a strong resurgence in just a few short years. These were the good works of Hariri and his compatriots. Today, we will have to endure more political bullshit about little bitty countries who hate each other and arguing over outdated religions, rather than celebrating the good works of a good man. Perhaps we can straighten all this out in a hundred years or so.
Whatever happens, just please, please, please, please do not let Hezbollah (<---- not a fan) take over the government entirely. They would destroy Lebanon's brilliant wine industry. And THAT is something for which I will not stand!
Friday, February 12, 2010
Enjoying Secular India
Perhaps I'm looking at India all wrong. Actually, to think of it that way, of COURSE I'm looking at India all wrong, but I'm also looking at it correctly. There is enough India to go around.
Why I may, however, be seeing India all wrong is that generally speaking, I'm not interested in seeing Temples and mosques and churches. I've been to a few sure, this is India. Religion is such a huge part of the cultural background here that it's difficult to ignore completely. As far as I'm concerned, I'm not Hindu, I don't plan on becoming a Hindu, marrying a Hindu, or remotely having anything to do with reasons in which I would go into a Hindu temple for reasons other than tourism. Now, with that said, I don't quite understand using temples as tourist destinations. I always feel like I'm missing something. For example, I went to a beautiful church in Evanston, IL when I lived there, but I didn't take people to see it very often. In my mind it's hard to really get anything out of a religious place if I'm not into that religion. As it turns out, I'm mostly secular except for my attention to ECUSA and sometimes the wider Anglican Communion. The Anglican Communion doesn't have much presence here in south India. One might be fooled into so thinking if researching on the anglican communion webpages, but being here, not so much.
So what's my point? My point is that there is enough to see in this world without having to worry much about the next one (or previous one or whatever you believe in). So it is in south India. I basically don't go in temples, mosques, or churches if possible to avoid them. They just don't interest me other than being pretty buildings. So what do I do?
Last night, I had the good fortune of being knowledgeable in some of Chennai crappy bars and invited with me an Italian, a Frenchman, and a Brazilian. We went to a bar that not only served alcohol, but also served beef. I'm not kidding you, beef and beer at the same place in India. It can't possibly be Muslim or Hindu... We sat around and had a "usual" westerners Friday evening ending at 11:00 PM. Oops. It was going well up until that last part. Oh, well that and we certainly didn't order the beef or have decent beer or a good juke box, but other than those small things it was just about right. Moreover, the discussion of religion last night was limited to football and why Lebanese politics are a total mess.
Lack of religion, decent AMOUNT of booze flowing, good conversation, snacks, I'd call it a success. Furthermore, the Frenchman drinking with me last night was the one I got irritated with a few days ago for my perceived insult to American education. A few beers washed all that away.
Let me end with one of my favorite all time quotes and come out of the secular world for a moment to a deeply held religious belief...
"Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy."
-Ben Franklin
Why I may, however, be seeing India all wrong is that generally speaking, I'm not interested in seeing Temples and mosques and churches. I've been to a few sure, this is India. Religion is such a huge part of the cultural background here that it's difficult to ignore completely. As far as I'm concerned, I'm not Hindu, I don't plan on becoming a Hindu, marrying a Hindu, or remotely having anything to do with reasons in which I would go into a Hindu temple for reasons other than tourism. Now, with that said, I don't quite understand using temples as tourist destinations. I always feel like I'm missing something. For example, I went to a beautiful church in Evanston, IL when I lived there, but I didn't take people to see it very often. In my mind it's hard to really get anything out of a religious place if I'm not into that religion. As it turns out, I'm mostly secular except for my attention to ECUSA and sometimes the wider Anglican Communion. The Anglican Communion doesn't have much presence here in south India. One might be fooled into so thinking if researching on the anglican communion webpages, but being here, not so much.
So what's my point? My point is that there is enough to see in this world without having to worry much about the next one (or previous one or whatever you believe in). So it is in south India. I basically don't go in temples, mosques, or churches if possible to avoid them. They just don't interest me other than being pretty buildings. So what do I do?
Last night, I had the good fortune of being knowledgeable in some of Chennai crappy bars and invited with me an Italian, a Frenchman, and a Brazilian. We went to a bar that not only served alcohol, but also served beef. I'm not kidding you, beef and beer at the same place in India. It can't possibly be Muslim or Hindu... We sat around and had a "usual" westerners Friday evening ending at 11:00 PM. Oops. It was going well up until that last part. Oh, well that and we certainly didn't order the beef or have decent beer or a good juke box, but other than those small things it was just about right. Moreover, the discussion of religion last night was limited to football and why Lebanese politics are a total mess.
Lack of religion, decent AMOUNT of booze flowing, good conversation, snacks, I'd call it a success. Furthermore, the Frenchman drinking with me last night was the one I got irritated with a few days ago for my perceived insult to American education. A few beers washed all that away.
Let me end with one of my favorite all time quotes and come out of the secular world for a moment to a deeply held religious belief...
"Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy."
-Ben Franklin
Disguised Unemployment
As I sat in Dubai's airport for the last few moments before my flight back to Chennai I began speaking with an elderly lady from San Jose, CA. She's been back and forth all over the world for much of her life and was coming to visit a friend in Chennai. Afterwards, she and her companion were to travel all across south India.
I was describing to her some of my recent travels and we got onto the topic of Sri Lanka. She told me that in 1976 she had left (then) Madras to go to Colombo and found Sri Lanka to be a paradise in comparison to Madras. Our conclusions were the same. Colombo, and all of Sri Lanka indeed is much less crowded, more organized, cleaner, and generally more enjoyable than south India. Once this topic was opened I repeated my plea that India is simply overcrowded. There are too many people here. The main example I gave was the following:
When I flew from Chennai to Colombo, I noticed there was a pre-check-in baggage screening. Then there was the normal baggage screening. A man who was passing out exit cards. It appeared he was training another man to pass out exit cards. Then there is a guy at a counter to help fill out exit cards for those who can't do it themselves. Then there is normal emigration. Then after emigration there is ANOTHER person to check your passport. After that, there is the "normal" baggage screening. Of course at the normal baggage screening women have a separate line (rather "queue") where only women screen women. After that there is a person to check you ticket at the gate, a different person to rip your ticket, a third person to check your passport with ticket ONCE MORE, and finally someone to check that your carry-on baggage has the proper identification and clearance.
When I flew back from Colombo to Sri Lanka... My bag was screened once, my passport checked twice, my ticket checked twice (just like any "normal" airport in America).
What's the difference? I thought of hearing a scenario similar to this from a friend whose parents work in Vietnam. However, Vietnam is a different story. They still have (on the books) a socialist government and this system requires them to split up work so that everyone gets a job. India, however, is the world's largest democracy (on the books). It's a free society (supposedly) in which if you can get work that's great, if not, too bad. Well, I think this comes back directly to India's overwhelming population. They hire all these people to do menial jobs, because there simply aren't enough jobs to go around otherwise. Of course, these people make FAR less than I do, and my pay rate comes to something like $1.25-$1.50 per hour. That would be ~$10-$11 per day and ~$325/month. That's right, I'm working at something under 6% of my pay from last year... However, these people STILL make less than I do. They are trying to hold families together on Rs 3000-5000 /month. In case you're wondering that's $70-$125/month. There isn't much money to begin with and what exists is spread very thin across a plethora of people just trying to survive.
This woman gave me another good example. The old time lawn mowers in the states weren't motorized, but had bags to collect the loose grass. The design of the lawn mower was so that the collection bag was hung on the frame of the mower and the grass was kicked up and back into the bag. In India some years ago they had the same design except that the grass was kicked up and forward. What followed was that a second person was needed to walk IN FRONT of the manual mower just to catch grass. (Depending on the meaning of "grass" I know hordes of young westerners who would gladly take up such a position...).
The term she gave for this type of work is "disguised unemployment." It's taking a job that is manageable by one person and retarding the method of work so that two people must now do this job. Of course, salaries aren't doubled, they are cut in half.
Last night I saw another example of this. As bad as the streets are in Chennai (think northern michigan) they occasionally repave them. Last night I saw a paving truck sitting idle as there were 5 or so people with shovels scraping up the old pavement. I couldn't hardly believe my eyes! WHY WERE THEY SCRAPING BY HAND!? There is a big powerful machine that can scrape this more efficiently and cheaply. What the hell was going on? I guess if you have to "employ" 15 people to scrape up a street it's better than training one to drive a machine that will do it better. Maybe not, I can't tell. It seemed completely absurd to me.
At this point I have exactly one stance on the whole situation.
There are too many people.
I know that I'm spinning my evidence to seem this way, but
in my feeble mind it appears Sri Lanka has been able to avoid most of India's problems with filth and crowding and unemployment simply by having fewer people.
I was describing to her some of my recent travels and we got onto the topic of Sri Lanka. She told me that in 1976 she had left (then) Madras to go to Colombo and found Sri Lanka to be a paradise in comparison to Madras. Our conclusions were the same. Colombo, and all of Sri Lanka indeed is much less crowded, more organized, cleaner, and generally more enjoyable than south India. Once this topic was opened I repeated my plea that India is simply overcrowded. There are too many people here. The main example I gave was the following:
When I flew from Chennai to Colombo, I noticed there was a pre-check-in baggage screening. Then there was the normal baggage screening. A man who was passing out exit cards. It appeared he was training another man to pass out exit cards. Then there is a guy at a counter to help fill out exit cards for those who can't do it themselves. Then there is normal emigration. Then after emigration there is ANOTHER person to check your passport. After that, there is the "normal" baggage screening. Of course at the normal baggage screening women have a separate line (rather "queue") where only women screen women. After that there is a person to check you ticket at the gate, a different person to rip your ticket, a third person to check your passport with ticket ONCE MORE, and finally someone to check that your carry-on baggage has the proper identification and clearance.
When I flew back from Colombo to Sri Lanka... My bag was screened once, my passport checked twice, my ticket checked twice (just like any "normal" airport in America).
What's the difference? I thought of hearing a scenario similar to this from a friend whose parents work in Vietnam. However, Vietnam is a different story. They still have (on the books) a socialist government and this system requires them to split up work so that everyone gets a job. India, however, is the world's largest democracy (on the books). It's a free society (supposedly) in which if you can get work that's great, if not, too bad. Well, I think this comes back directly to India's overwhelming population. They hire all these people to do menial jobs, because there simply aren't enough jobs to go around otherwise. Of course, these people make FAR less than I do, and my pay rate comes to something like $1.25-$1.50 per hour. That would be ~$10-$11 per day and ~$325/month. That's right, I'm working at something under 6% of my pay from last year... However, these people STILL make less than I do. They are trying to hold families together on Rs 3000-5000 /month. In case you're wondering that's $70-$125/month. There isn't much money to begin with and what exists is spread very thin across a plethora of people just trying to survive.
This woman gave me another good example. The old time lawn mowers in the states weren't motorized, but had bags to collect the loose grass. The design of the lawn mower was so that the collection bag was hung on the frame of the mower and the grass was kicked up and back into the bag. In India some years ago they had the same design except that the grass was kicked up and forward. What followed was that a second person was needed to walk IN FRONT of the manual mower just to catch grass. (Depending on the meaning of "grass" I know hordes of young westerners who would gladly take up such a position...).
The term she gave for this type of work is "disguised unemployment." It's taking a job that is manageable by one person and retarding the method of work so that two people must now do this job. Of course, salaries aren't doubled, they are cut in half.
Last night I saw another example of this. As bad as the streets are in Chennai (think northern michigan) they occasionally repave them. Last night I saw a paving truck sitting idle as there were 5 or so people with shovels scraping up the old pavement. I couldn't hardly believe my eyes! WHY WERE THEY SCRAPING BY HAND!? There is a big powerful machine that can scrape this more efficiently and cheaply. What the hell was going on? I guess if you have to "employ" 15 people to scrape up a street it's better than training one to drive a machine that will do it better. Maybe not, I can't tell. It seemed completely absurd to me.
At this point I have exactly one stance on the whole situation.
There are too many people.
I know that I'm spinning my evidence to seem this way, but
in my feeble mind it appears Sri Lanka has been able to avoid most of India's problems with filth and crowding and unemployment simply by having fewer people.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Defending my home part 1
My family is Lebanese Druze. I'm not so much, per se. I'm an Anglican (practicing even). When I'm outside Lebanon I say I'm Anglican or even Episcopalian (depending on how my conversation partner knows). The point of this being that the Lebanese Druze ideas run through my blood. That's right, IDEAS run through my BLOOD. I don't generally THINK too highly of most of their ideals, but I can't help it sometimes...
Well, what the hell does all this nonsensical rambling mean for me? The Druze (as it turns out) are ardent defenders of their homes. This means several things to several groups of them, but generally speaking it means your home country. The Lebanese Druze are ardent defenders of Lebanon, as Israeli Druze ardently defend Israel.
So here's where I stand on the issue. I'm from Tennessee. It is my home. In a less specific way the United States is also my home. Furthermore I've adopted Atlanta, Chicago, and Philadelphia as my "homes."
When I lived in Chicago and Philly I defended the honor of Tennessee against the onslaught of anti-southern biases. I'm ok with that. Tennesse has both it's own style of music and it's own style of Whiskey. Kentucky would LIKE to make the same claim, but sadly Bourbon CAN BE MADE ELSEWHERE. Tennessee Whiskey on the other hand only comes from Tennessee. If you doubt my fiendish booze knowledge, go look it up.
All that said, the other day, I was at lunch here in India and sitting just a couple chairs down was a French man. He is visiting the institute for some time, and to be fair, I have no problems with they guy. But he was talking to an Indian about how bad the "government schools" in America are. I assumed he wasn't implicating private schools in this. He said "the students come in, put their headphones on, and put their feet up on the desk." I don't mind this so much, except that he clearly didn't go to the same "government school" that I did. I had to jump in (the druze in me couldn't help it). I told him I went to a "government school" (I'm still not exactly sure what he meant by this) and that I turned out just fine. In fact my lower education was in Tennessee which has something like 45th highest educations standards out of 53 (puerto rico, guam, DC, plus 50 states). We're not high on the list of well educated states... I even went to public university. So I promptly informed him that the United States is a big place, and we have everything. "We have the worst of the worst, and the best of the best." He, being a Frenchman negated this, and said "worst of the worst, sure, but you do not have the best of the best." I got a little riled up by this. I haven't tried to push the point any further, it doesn't really deserve much attention, but I realized that I spend a lot of time defending American education while outside America. I defend a lot of things about America while outside America. Especially the good stuff. Of course, we've got problems. I openly admit this, but come one man. America totally kicks ass! I didn't bother to add into my reply, that we certainly have the best overall collection of public universities in the world, and that competition is not even close. I don't think he would've heard it, but no matter. I felt like I had to defend my home.
Well, what the hell does all this nonsensical rambling mean for me? The Druze (as it turns out) are ardent defenders of their homes. This means several things to several groups of them, but generally speaking it means your home country. The Lebanese Druze are ardent defenders of Lebanon, as Israeli Druze ardently defend Israel.
So here's where I stand on the issue. I'm from Tennessee. It is my home. In a less specific way the United States is also my home. Furthermore I've adopted Atlanta, Chicago, and Philadelphia as my "homes."
When I lived in Chicago and Philly I defended the honor of Tennessee against the onslaught of anti-southern biases. I'm ok with that. Tennesse has both it's own style of music and it's own style of Whiskey. Kentucky would LIKE to make the same claim, but sadly Bourbon CAN BE MADE ELSEWHERE. Tennessee Whiskey on the other hand only comes from Tennessee. If you doubt my fiendish booze knowledge, go look it up.
All that said, the other day, I was at lunch here in India and sitting just a couple chairs down was a French man. He is visiting the institute for some time, and to be fair, I have no problems with they guy. But he was talking to an Indian about how bad the "government schools" in America are. I assumed he wasn't implicating private schools in this. He said "the students come in, put their headphones on, and put their feet up on the desk." I don't mind this so much, except that he clearly didn't go to the same "government school" that I did. I had to jump in (the druze in me couldn't help it). I told him I went to a "government school" (I'm still not exactly sure what he meant by this) and that I turned out just fine. In fact my lower education was in Tennessee which has something like 45th highest educations standards out of 53 (puerto rico, guam, DC, plus 50 states). We're not high on the list of well educated states... I even went to public university. So I promptly informed him that the United States is a big place, and we have everything. "We have the worst of the worst, and the best of the best." He, being a Frenchman negated this, and said "worst of the worst, sure, but you do not have the best of the best." I got a little riled up by this. I haven't tried to push the point any further, it doesn't really deserve much attention, but I realized that I spend a lot of time defending American education while outside America. I defend a lot of things about America while outside America. Especially the good stuff. Of course, we've got problems. I openly admit this, but come one man. America totally kicks ass! I didn't bother to add into my reply, that we certainly have the best overall collection of public universities in the world, and that competition is not even close. I don't think he would've heard it, but no matter. I felt like I had to defend my home.
A multitude of cultural happenings Part 1
Part 1: Iranian revolution day. I ordinarily wouldn't have much interest in this, but I'm seeing a lot of news articles about it. Furthermore there is news coming out of Lebanon-Israel about new mounting tensions and as Israel says "the war that will happen." Of course this involves Lebanon only in the slightest way. Israel is complaining about Hezbollah (<----- not a fan) rearming themselves and doing a bunch of nonsense like they always do. Lebanon is complaining about Israeli fighter jets in Lebanese airspace. Of course, this is all very common, but who knows why the tensions are mounting again? I have no idea...
Back to Iran... The reason I mention the Lebanese war is because Hezbollah (<--- not a fan) is backed financially and militarily by Iran and Syria. What has happened I believe is that in the 31 years (to the day) since Iran's revolution radical Islam (and more generally radical religious movements) have become valid political entities.
Since I'm in India and have been to Lebanon a couple times recently, the Islamic world is always in my immediate consciousness. I'm stuck trying to make sense of a religion for which I wish to have much respect, but so many things make that difficult. Part of the difficulty is the novelty of the religion. It is in some sense going through growing pains. Clearly with a religion as large and widespread as islam there is not one central set of beliefs. Try checking out this girl's blog I love Hishma, the blog. It is safe to say I disagree with her on almost every point she makes. Not all of them, in fact she's well spoken, but I'm just not into it.
After reading about 30 or so of her entries I went looking around Lebanon and India to see how well the Muslim women fair under her set of rules. The answer is, not very well at all. According to her blog, basically all the women in Lebanon are damned. Muslim women in India really, really, really don't stand a chance. But funny enough, her set of standards are only strict enough to meet gulf states' requirements, not necessarily Saudi or Iran. So what's going on in Iran?
The news today is buzzing with stories of hundreds of arrests in Tehran regarding rioters on revolution day. It seems, the younger generation isn't so pleased with the Ayatollah anymore. Yesterday's news on BBC reported how Iran went about its most recent elections. They shut down many media resources including, TV, internet, mobile phones. Still, the younger generation is finding ways of getting around this. God bless you (and all the gods bless you) Google and twitter and facebook and all the absurd social networking sites for allowing sneaky outlets. There are reports that people are using their phones as cameras, simply saving videos of terrible injustices and simply waiting for the phone lines and email to come back up. These videos then go viral in Iran. Once they get on youtube they go viral elsewhere.
I think Iran has lost its Islamic way and allowed politics and money to take over. Perhaps only a small collection of people in Iran who have nothing to do with government are practicing Islam "correctly." As far as I can tell (and I'm no expert, but I CAN read) the wanton killing of innocent people is disallowed in Islam. In addition, as far as I can tell, Iran's government is responsible for many offenses in this vein. Of course, nothing particular can be pinned on them, because they are a government with a lot of money and nuclear power. But I'd be willing to bet a month's salary, many of the political officials in Iran are guilty of terrible offenses according to Islam. I can't say for sure, since I'm not there and don't know them in person, but I'd be willing to bet on it.
Back to Iran... The reason I mention the Lebanese war is because Hezbollah (<--- not a fan) is backed financially and militarily by Iran and Syria. What has happened I believe is that in the 31 years (to the day) since Iran's revolution radical Islam (and more generally radical religious movements) have become valid political entities.
Since I'm in India and have been to Lebanon a couple times recently, the Islamic world is always in my immediate consciousness. I'm stuck trying to make sense of a religion for which I wish to have much respect, but so many things make that difficult. Part of the difficulty is the novelty of the religion. It is in some sense going through growing pains. Clearly with a religion as large and widespread as islam there is not one central set of beliefs. Try checking out this girl's blog I love Hishma, the blog. It is safe to say I disagree with her on almost every point she makes. Not all of them, in fact she's well spoken, but I'm just not into it.
After reading about 30 or so of her entries I went looking around Lebanon and India to see how well the Muslim women fair under her set of rules. The answer is, not very well at all. According to her blog, basically all the women in Lebanon are damned. Muslim women in India really, really, really don't stand a chance. But funny enough, her set of standards are only strict enough to meet gulf states' requirements, not necessarily Saudi or Iran. So what's going on in Iran?
The news today is buzzing with stories of hundreds of arrests in Tehran regarding rioters on revolution day. It seems, the younger generation isn't so pleased with the Ayatollah anymore. Yesterday's news on BBC reported how Iran went about its most recent elections. They shut down many media resources including, TV, internet, mobile phones. Still, the younger generation is finding ways of getting around this. God bless you (and all the gods bless you) Google and twitter and facebook and all the absurd social networking sites for allowing sneaky outlets. There are reports that people are using their phones as cameras, simply saving videos of terrible injustices and simply waiting for the phone lines and email to come back up. These videos then go viral in Iran. Once they get on youtube they go viral elsewhere.
I think Iran has lost its Islamic way and allowed politics and money to take over. Perhaps only a small collection of people in Iran who have nothing to do with government are practicing Islam "correctly." As far as I can tell (and I'm no expert, but I CAN read) the wanton killing of innocent people is disallowed in Islam. In addition, as far as I can tell, Iran's government is responsible for many offenses in this vein. Of course, nothing particular can be pinned on them, because they are a government with a lot of money and nuclear power. But I'd be willing to bet a month's salary, many of the political officials in Iran are guilty of terrible offenses according to Islam. I can't say for sure, since I'm not there and don't know them in person, but I'd be willing to bet on it.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
More cultural exchanges: A good joke
As I was walking along last night with my good Indian friend, we stopped and asked someone for directions to another part of town. I thanked the man in Tamil, and my friend said, that's not always the best way to go about it. I asked him why and he told me that since the man had spoken very good english while giving us directions I should have thanked him in english. The problem is not me he says (although I have a hard time believing this) but that the biggest social problem to Indians is Indians themselves. He then proceeded to tell me a good joke, and I think it is apropos.
There is a large ship carrying tons of crabs from all over the world toward a large seafood market. On the ship all the crates are closed and locked except for a small corner of the ship in which all the boxes are open. One of the crew asked about the reason for leaving these boxes open. Another crew member said, "no need to worry, those are Indian crabs. If anyone of them tries to escape, the other will pull him down."
It seems a mildly sad state of affairs, but somehow it goes back to the idea that India is terribly overpopulated and many people have to do what is necessary just to survive. I don't think it's necessarily a case of wide spread schadenfreude in India, but more appropriately a wide spread hysteria. I still have trouble dealing with the idea that lines means nothing. I don't know where it comes from, but intense crowding to get on trains, buses, and planes irritates the hell out of me.
Just some thoughts...
There is a large ship carrying tons of crabs from all over the world toward a large seafood market. On the ship all the crates are closed and locked except for a small corner of the ship in which all the boxes are open. One of the crew asked about the reason for leaving these boxes open. Another crew member said, "no need to worry, those are Indian crabs. If anyone of them tries to escape, the other will pull him down."
It seems a mildly sad state of affairs, but somehow it goes back to the idea that India is terribly overpopulated and many people have to do what is necessary just to survive. I don't think it's necessarily a case of wide spread schadenfreude in India, but more appropriately a wide spread hysteria. I still have trouble dealing with the idea that lines means nothing. I don't know where it comes from, but intense crowding to get on trains, buses, and planes irritates the hell out of me.
Just some thoughts...
The best beer of my life
I shouldn't say I had the best beer of my life, but I enjoyed it as much as any beer I can remember having for a long time. I was in Dubai's airport for a terribly long layover and after having seen all the duty free shops I decided there must be some sort of bar around. It was a bit of a search, but I found a place called "The Hub" advertising Leffe Blonde by the pint. I was certainly skeptical, but i thought I'd give it a try. Surely enough, 16 oz pint glass full of Leffe Blonde ON TAP! I was nearly in heaven. To be fair, Leffe Blonde isn't my favorite beer, nor is it even in my top 100 (however I'd probably safely put it in my top 250), but MY GOD did it taste good!?
In addition to Belgian beer in Dubai, I went with a spicy tuna roll and chicken burrito to finish out the world tour. I was talking to the host of the restaurant/pub and he told me he was from Mumbai. I asked him why it is so difficult to get good beer in this hemisphere. Although, I should ask it slightly differently. Germany, Belgium, Czech are all TECHNICALLY in the eastern hemisphere, but if you discount them, then finding good part in these parts is difficult. Nonetheless he had no idea. I think the only good breweries I can name which are east of europe are hitachino nest in Japan, and a handful of micros from down under that have made their way to the states.
All things being held equal, after subjecting myself to nearly 3 months of terrible to decent beer, it was a very happy moment to have an authentic belgian beer served in as a full pint! It was so good I ordered a second one. Funny enough, the call to prayer started for the prayer rooms at the airport as my second pint arrived. I wasn't sure what to make of it. So I refrained from gulping down the whole pint until the prayers had ended. I decided I'd offer a little thanks to God for creating barley, hops, water, yeast, and Belgium. I thought it was fitting. I thought back to Ben Franklin and Philadelphia...
Ben Franklin's (in my mind) most famous quote
"Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy." I agree Ben, I certainly do.
In addition to Belgian beer in Dubai, I went with a spicy tuna roll and chicken burrito to finish out the world tour. I was talking to the host of the restaurant/pub and he told me he was from Mumbai. I asked him why it is so difficult to get good beer in this hemisphere. Although, I should ask it slightly differently. Germany, Belgium, Czech are all TECHNICALLY in the eastern hemisphere, but if you discount them, then finding good part in these parts is difficult. Nonetheless he had no idea. I think the only good breweries I can name which are east of europe are hitachino nest in Japan, and a handful of micros from down under that have made their way to the states.
All things being held equal, after subjecting myself to nearly 3 months of terrible to decent beer, it was a very happy moment to have an authentic belgian beer served in as a full pint! It was so good I ordered a second one. Funny enough, the call to prayer started for the prayer rooms at the airport as my second pint arrived. I wasn't sure what to make of it. So I refrained from gulping down the whole pint until the prayers had ended. I decided I'd offer a little thanks to God for creating barley, hops, water, yeast, and Belgium. I thought it was fitting. I thought back to Ben Franklin and Philadelphia...
Ben Franklin's (in my mind) most famous quote
"Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy." I agree Ben, I certainly do.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Hanging in Dubai's airport
I'm on the way from Beirut back to Chennai. Again I'm not excited or even remotely happy about this, but so it is. Chennai has this problem of having international flights arriving at absurd hours. Of course everything in Chennai is closed by 11PM at the latest and I've never had a flight from a western place arrive before midnight. It's a terrible thing, but I bought the ticket, so I guess I can't complain TOO much.
As it is, because of my late flight from Dubai and my early flight from Beirut I'm stuck in DXB for about 5 hours. Luckily, they have free internet and a boatload of duty free stores. However, I had though that with 5 hours free time I might be able to pick up a transit visa and just go around to see the sites in Dubai for a couple hours. When I realized I'd have about an hour to do this before I'd have to return to the airport I decided against it. So now I'm hanging in the airport looking at the duty free shopping mall that it is.
I wonder what it is about the gulf that people want to build so much shit. I really mean that. Almost everything here is shitty. Of course, I say this as I'm looking out the window at the Burj Dubai, but seriously, there is no culture here, just shopping. I cna't confirm whether or not this is true of all the Emirates, but I'm told it is similar to this around here. People go to work and make a ridiculous amount of money and go shopping. Everything here is about Islam and capitalism. Peculiar mix I guess.
I don't know what I'd do for an hour is a giant desert shopping mall, but I can't say at this time I'm sad that I decided to sit around in the AC and surf the web.
I'm really perplexed by a lot of things in the middle east. It seems here as in Lebanon, the appearance of things really matters most and the quality of things is somehow less important. I guess the same can be said of the United States, but to my eyes the culture is changing. I know at least from Philadelphia and Chicago, people really care about the quality of things. You'll see locally produced crafts popping up everywhere, locally grown food, locally made clothing, etc. It seems to me that there is a growing number of people who just want to do things well and not have to travel too far to do it. Nor do they care about shipping their goods all across the globe. Walking around Lebanon and at least in Dubai's shopping mall of an airport all I can see are big brand names that have enough money to run multi-billion dollar ad campaigns. I somehow think fewer high quality things come from this, and merely pricier things. Or as they would say in India much costlier (although I still hate the sound of that). I think around these parts quality is judged solely on its price. It is a classical example of confusing worth and value. I for one am not a fan of it.
Quick example: There is a bag in the "high end" liquor store here. It was made by hand for the Glenrothes distillery (one of my favorites in Scotland actually) and the pompous british sounding guy behind the counter answered someone's question about it by saying very flatly, "It's $25,000 to buy it outright. There were only three of those bags ever made." Of course my interest was peaked, something worth $25,000 was right next to me. Even the 55 year old Macallan wasn't that much. So I went and looked at it. It looked like a leather briefcase with a cheap lock on it, and a hand pressed logo of Glenrothes on it. I couldn't hardly believe it. I could buy LL bean bags for half the kids in Lebanon for that much. What a crock. The other examples are in perfumes and cigarettes (totally duty free shopping!) where they only have the biggest brand names and are asking stupid amounts of money because Lancome has this or that actress on their posters. Argh.
Why must we confuse worth and value this way? Why does it seem that the gulf is full of more money than sense?
As it is, because of my late flight from Dubai and my early flight from Beirut I'm stuck in DXB for about 5 hours. Luckily, they have free internet and a boatload of duty free stores. However, I had though that with 5 hours free time I might be able to pick up a transit visa and just go around to see the sites in Dubai for a couple hours. When I realized I'd have about an hour to do this before I'd have to return to the airport I decided against it. So now I'm hanging in the airport looking at the duty free shopping mall that it is.
I wonder what it is about the gulf that people want to build so much shit. I really mean that. Almost everything here is shitty. Of course, I say this as I'm looking out the window at the Burj Dubai, but seriously, there is no culture here, just shopping. I cna't confirm whether or not this is true of all the Emirates, but I'm told it is similar to this around here. People go to work and make a ridiculous amount of money and go shopping. Everything here is about Islam and capitalism. Peculiar mix I guess.
I don't know what I'd do for an hour is a giant desert shopping mall, but I can't say at this time I'm sad that I decided to sit around in the AC and surf the web.
I'm really perplexed by a lot of things in the middle east. It seems here as in Lebanon, the appearance of things really matters most and the quality of things is somehow less important. I guess the same can be said of the United States, but to my eyes the culture is changing. I know at least from Philadelphia and Chicago, people really care about the quality of things. You'll see locally produced crafts popping up everywhere, locally grown food, locally made clothing, etc. It seems to me that there is a growing number of people who just want to do things well and not have to travel too far to do it. Nor do they care about shipping their goods all across the globe. Walking around Lebanon and at least in Dubai's shopping mall of an airport all I can see are big brand names that have enough money to run multi-billion dollar ad campaigns. I somehow think fewer high quality things come from this, and merely pricier things. Or as they would say in India much costlier (although I still hate the sound of that). I think around these parts quality is judged solely on its price. It is a classical example of confusing worth and value. I for one am not a fan of it.
Quick example: There is a bag in the "high end" liquor store here. It was made by hand for the Glenrothes distillery (one of my favorites in Scotland actually) and the pompous british sounding guy behind the counter answered someone's question about it by saying very flatly, "It's $25,000 to buy it outright. There were only three of those bags ever made." Of course my interest was peaked, something worth $25,000 was right next to me. Even the 55 year old Macallan wasn't that much. So I went and looked at it. It looked like a leather briefcase with a cheap lock on it, and a hand pressed logo of Glenrothes on it. I couldn't hardly believe it. I could buy LL bean bags for half the kids in Lebanon for that much. What a crock. The other examples are in perfumes and cigarettes (totally duty free shopping!) where they only have the biggest brand names and are asking stupid amounts of money because Lancome has this or that actress on their posters. Argh.
Why must we confuse worth and value this way? Why does it seem that the gulf is full of more money than sense?
Hanging in Dubai's airport
I'm on the way from Beirut back to Chennai. Again I'm not excited or even remotely happy about this, but so it is. Chennai has this problem of having international flights arriving at absurd hours. Of course everything in Chennai is closed by 11PM at the latest and I've never had a flight from a western place arrive before midnight. It's a terrible thing, but I bought the ticket, so I guess I can't complain TOO much.
As it is, because of my late flight from Dubai and my early flight from Beirut I'm stuck in DXB for about 5 hours. Luckily, they have free internet and a boatload of duty free stores. However, I had though that with 5 hours free time I might be able to pick up a transit visa and just go around to see the sites in Dubai for a couple hours. When I realized I'd have about an hour to do this before I'd have to return to the airport I decided against it. So now I'm hanging in the airport looking at the duty free shopping mall that it is.
I wonder what it is about the gulf that people want to build so much shit. I really mean that. Almost everything here is shitty. Of course, I say this as I'm looking out the window at the Burj Dubai, but seriously, there is no culture here, just shopping. I cna't confirm whether or not this is true of all the Emirates, but I'm told it is similar to this around here. People go to work and make a ridiculous amount of money and go shopping. Everything here is about Islam and capitalism. Peculiar mix I guess.
I don't know what I'd do for an hour is a giant desert shopping mall, but I can't say at this time I'm sad that I decided to sit around in the AC and surf the web.
I'm really perplexed by a lot of things in the middle east. It seems here as in Lebanon, the appearance of things really matters most and the quality of things is somehow less important. I guess the same can be said of the United States, but to my eyes the culture is changing. I know at least from Philadelphia and Chicago, people really care about the quality of things. You'll see locally produced crafts popping up everywhere, locally grown food, locally made clothing, etc. It seems to me that there is a growing number of people who just want to do things well and not have to travel too far to do it. Nor do they care about shipping their goods all across the globe. Walking around Lebanon and at least in Dubai's shopping mall of an airport all I can see are big brand names that have enough money to run multi-billion dollar ad campaigns. I somehow think fewer high quality things come from this, and merely pricier things. Or as they would say in India much costlier (although I still hate the sound of that). I think around these parts quality is judged solely on its price. It is a classical example of confusing worth and value. I for one am not a fan of it.
Quick example: There is a bag in the "high end" liquor store here. It was made by hand for the Glenrothes distillery (one of my favorites in Scotland actually) and the pompous british sounding guy behind the counter answered someone's question about it by saying very flatly, "It's $25,000 to buy it outright. There were only three of those bags ever made." Of course my interest was peaked, something worth $25,000 was right next to me. Even the 55 year old Macallan wasn't that much. So I went and looked at it. It looked like a leather briefcase with a cheap lock on it, and a hand pressed logo of Glenrothes on it. I couldn't hardly believe it. I could buy LL bean bags for half the kids in Lebanon for that much. What a crock. The other examples are in perfumes and cigarettes (totally duty free shopping!) where they only have the biggest brand names and are asking stupid amounts of money because Lancome has this or that actress on their posters. Argh.
Why must we confuse worth and value this way? Why does it seem that the gulf is full of more money than sense?
As it is, because of my late flight from Dubai and my early flight from Beirut I'm stuck in DXB for about 5 hours. Luckily, they have free internet and a boatload of duty free stores. However, I had though that with 5 hours free time I might be able to pick up a transit visa and just go around to see the sites in Dubai for a couple hours. When I realized I'd have about an hour to do this before I'd have to return to the airport I decided against it. So now I'm hanging in the airport looking at the duty free shopping mall that it is.
I wonder what it is about the gulf that people want to build so much shit. I really mean that. Almost everything here is shitty. Of course, I say this as I'm looking out the window at the Burj Dubai, but seriously, there is no culture here, just shopping. I cna't confirm whether or not this is true of all the Emirates, but I'm told it is similar to this around here. People go to work and make a ridiculous amount of money and go shopping. Everything here is about Islam and capitalism. Peculiar mix I guess.
I don't know what I'd do for an hour is a giant desert shopping mall, but I can't say at this time I'm sad that I decided to sit around in the AC and surf the web.
I'm really perplexed by a lot of things in the middle east. It seems here as in Lebanon, the appearance of things really matters most and the quality of things is somehow less important. I guess the same can be said of the United States, but to my eyes the culture is changing. I know at least from Philadelphia and Chicago, people really care about the quality of things. You'll see locally produced crafts popping up everywhere, locally grown food, locally made clothing, etc. It seems to me that there is a growing number of people who just want to do things well and not have to travel too far to do it. Nor do they care about shipping their goods all across the globe. Walking around Lebanon and at least in Dubai's shopping mall of an airport all I can see are big brand names that have enough money to run multi-billion dollar ad campaigns. I somehow think fewer high quality things come from this, and merely pricier things. Or as they would say in India much costlier (although I still hate the sound of that). I think around these parts quality is judged solely on its price. It is a classical example of confusing worth and value. I for one am not a fan of it.
Quick example: There is a bag in the "high end" liquor store here. It was made by hand for the Glenrothes distillery (one of my favorites in Scotland actually) and the pompous british sounding guy behind the counter answered someone's question about it by saying very flatly, "It's $25,000 to buy it outright. There were only three of those bags ever made." Of course my interest was peaked, something worth $25,000 was right next to me. Even the 55 year old Macallan wasn't that much. So I went and looked at it. It looked like a leather briefcase with a cheap lock on it, and a hand pressed logo of Glenrothes on it. I couldn't hardly believe it. I could buy LL bean bags for half the kids in Lebanon for that much. What a crock. The other examples are in perfumes and cigarettes (totally duty free shopping!) where they only have the biggest brand names and are asking stupid amounts of money because Lancome has this or that actress on their posters. Argh.
Why must we confuse worth and value this way? Why does it seem that the gulf is full of more money than sense?
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Four-Wheelin' with hillbillies.
Lebanese hillbillies that is. Last week in Lebanon there was a nice big snow storm in the mountains. In fact I got snowed in for basically two days. Further up in the mountains the snow is very much still on the ground. My cousin and his friends decided that going up there and driving around at night would be a good idea. I truly questioned the validity of this, but figured I don't get the chance to go four-wheeling up in Lebanon's snowy mountains often. The worst thing that could happen is death or being paralyzed from a bad accident. The best thing that could happen is that I have a lot of fun and get to shoot the shit with some Lebanese kids. It should be noted, that I'm nearly 10 years older than everyone I went with. So after realizing that dying in Lebanon isn't the worst way to die, I said, "what the hell" and went for it.
The kids (young gentlemen) decided to drive up toward the Sohat factory (Lebanon's major water bottling facility) way up in Falougha (note: not the Falougha of Iraq). That high up (nearly 1600m) there was plenty of snow and ice. We raced up the hills skidding and slipping and generally have a good ol' hillbilly time.
Another amusing tidbit: In Arabic they use the numbers 2,3,5,6,7,8 to transliterate certain letters that don't exist on the English keyboard. For example 7 represents a hard 'h' so written because it's ALMOST close to the arabic letter '7eh'. It's the letter used for names like Ahmedinejan rewritten with numbers A7medinejan. This, makes me actually a 7illbilly rather than a hillbilly.
Back to the news:
The driver of my car decided to go WAY up into the snow and we got to a point where even 4WD wouldn't carry us on. So three of us jumped out and let the driver attempt to right the ship. He did, but that far up, the truck basically slipped its way all the way back down to the road with three clumsy oafs slipping steadily behind. We made it back down to the road, jumped back in, and rode on. After another five minutes we came to a very large open field full of snow. I could see that we weren't the first people to go there. There were many tracks and so our car went down and did some killer doughnuts in the snow. I was having a hell of a time. We watched the other truck try to do the same in what I regarded as a Lebanese form of a machismo contest. After each side had proven his masculinity we decided to come back up to the road. I guess the problem in big field up in the mountains are that large loose rocks are buried in the snow. At night, said objects become rather difficult to see through wind and snow. My driver glanced such a rock and I became airborne within the car. We stopped to check the car to make sure no permanent damage had been done. Luckily no.
We drove on and came out to a large rode where other young men interested in machismo were entering the four-wheeling area. This road is on the other side of the mountains from my village and leads down into the Bekaa valley (Lebanon's wine region and Hezbollah <-- not a fan stronghold... Only in Lebanon). We drove down below the highest bridge in all the middle east into a town named Ain Dara and ate some delicious Lebanese style sandwiches known in the west as gutbombs and I drank a beer. I think the 10 year difference was most prevalent when I (the village's new alcoholic) had a beer and all the other kids drank their pepsi's with straws. I didn't mind, I got to drink a beer.
So we left and I had a nice time. Basically, the best case scenario happened. I'm neither maimed nor dead and I had an excellent ride. I might not get another chance to go 4 wheeling in the Lebanese winter anytime soon, so I guess in hindsight it was an excellent decision to get jolted around for a little while.
The kids (young gentlemen) decided to drive up toward the Sohat factory (Lebanon's major water bottling facility) way up in Falougha (note: not the Falougha of Iraq). That high up (nearly 1600m) there was plenty of snow and ice. We raced up the hills skidding and slipping and generally have a good ol' hillbilly time.
Another amusing tidbit: In Arabic they use the numbers 2,3,5,6,7,8 to transliterate certain letters that don't exist on the English keyboard. For example 7 represents a hard 'h' so written because it's ALMOST close to the arabic letter '7eh'. It's the letter used for names like Ahmedinejan rewritten with numbers A7medinejan. This, makes me actually a 7illbilly rather than a hillbilly.
Back to the news:
The driver of my car decided to go WAY up into the snow and we got to a point where even 4WD wouldn't carry us on. So three of us jumped out and let the driver attempt to right the ship. He did, but that far up, the truck basically slipped its way all the way back down to the road with three clumsy oafs slipping steadily behind. We made it back down to the road, jumped back in, and rode on. After another five minutes we came to a very large open field full of snow. I could see that we weren't the first people to go there. There were many tracks and so our car went down and did some killer doughnuts in the snow. I was having a hell of a time. We watched the other truck try to do the same in what I regarded as a Lebanese form of a machismo contest. After each side had proven his masculinity we decided to come back up to the road. I guess the problem in big field up in the mountains are that large loose rocks are buried in the snow. At night, said objects become rather difficult to see through wind and snow. My driver glanced such a rock and I became airborne within the car. We stopped to check the car to make sure no permanent damage had been done. Luckily no.
We drove on and came out to a large rode where other young men interested in machismo were entering the four-wheeling area. This road is on the other side of the mountains from my village and leads down into the Bekaa valley (Lebanon's wine region and Hezbollah <-- not a fan stronghold... Only in Lebanon). We drove down below the highest bridge in all the middle east into a town named Ain Dara and ate some delicious Lebanese style sandwiches known in the west as gutbombs and I drank a beer. I think the 10 year difference was most prevalent when I (the village's new alcoholic) had a beer and all the other kids drank their pepsi's with straws. I didn't mind, I got to drink a beer.
So we left and I had a nice time. Basically, the best case scenario happened. I'm neither maimed nor dead and I had an excellent ride. I might not get another chance to go 4 wheeling in the Lebanese winter anytime soon, so I guess in hindsight it was an excellent decision to get jolted around for a little while.
A hint of Beirut nightlife
Saturday night: I hear it's alright for fighting. In general, this hasn't been my experience, but I suppose it could be. A friend of mine had invited me out for dinner and drinks in Jounieh for Saturday night. As much as I love my family, I couldn't possibly resist. So off I went into Beirut and Jounieh for a Saturday night of good fun. My two friends took me to some enormous restaurant/Arguilleh bar. For all those of you mildly culturally aware people, the arguilleh is what most people call the hookah. The Turkish name for it is Hookah, and everyone else calls it the sheesha pipe. Another amusing piece of information is that hasheesh is the arabic word for grass and in Lebanon generally refers to leafy greens that you eat at meals...
Well, I sat in the restauarant/arguilleh for a long time maybe 3 hours. I wanted to whip out the backgammon board and show my Lebanese friends that I really do know how to play, but I think we were all content to sit around and smell the good smells, have our Arak, watch the beautiful people roll in and out, tell dirty jokes, and be generally content with life without a competitive game of backgammon.
The night rolled along pleasantly as we all got a mild high from the flavored tobaccos and half bottle of arak each. Then it was time to go. My friends took me back down to Beirut where I was staying. I have a cousin who just finished his exams and so is relaxing and the whole crew of his friends decided to go clubbing in Beirut. He came back to the room about 1AM and said, "we should go somewhere."
I livened up with ferocity. Could it be? My recent dream come true? Going out after midnight to have fun? Not worrying about what time it is? Oh yes, sweet many Gods in the Hindu pantheon, it was true! So my university cousin and I rolled out and picked another of his friends. Off to Gemayze (the bar and club district in Beirut) we go. We walk through the streets and apparently I walked right by some famous singer. I guess I shouldn't be SO surprised, it is the only real party city in Lebanon and we were in THE party district. But I guess it's still fun to think I was towering over one of Lebanon's more famous male singers.
One guy says he knows of a vodka bar. I'm not really into the idea, but what the hell, it's almost quarter of 3 in the morning and the party is still going strong. This particular bar allows minors and stags, perfect for the three of us. We only had a round then left. After a little while of sitting and shooting the breeze and listening to yet another crappy DJ spin more crappy tunes we rolled out again. This time to drive around the mostly empty seashore. I remember this type of activity from my late high school days. It brought back memories. Driving around late at night, no one else around, learning the city for yourself...
Well we stopped and got "fruit cocktails" which were really closer to milkshakes, but not quite. I'm not sure what they were other than delicious and a little extra delicious because the vendor was open at 3:30AM. Finally we came back and crashed.
It felt amazingly good to have the faintest hint of a night life again!
Well, I sat in the restauarant/arguilleh for a long time maybe 3 hours. I wanted to whip out the backgammon board and show my Lebanese friends that I really do know how to play, but I think we were all content to sit around and smell the good smells, have our Arak, watch the beautiful people roll in and out, tell dirty jokes, and be generally content with life without a competitive game of backgammon.
The night rolled along pleasantly as we all got a mild high from the flavored tobaccos and half bottle of arak each. Then it was time to go. My friends took me back down to Beirut where I was staying. I have a cousin who just finished his exams and so is relaxing and the whole crew of his friends decided to go clubbing in Beirut. He came back to the room about 1AM and said, "we should go somewhere."
I livened up with ferocity. Could it be? My recent dream come true? Going out after midnight to have fun? Not worrying about what time it is? Oh yes, sweet many Gods in the Hindu pantheon, it was true! So my university cousin and I rolled out and picked another of his friends. Off to Gemayze (the bar and club district in Beirut) we go. We walk through the streets and apparently I walked right by some famous singer. I guess I shouldn't be SO surprised, it is the only real party city in Lebanon and we were in THE party district. But I guess it's still fun to think I was towering over one of Lebanon's more famous male singers.
One guy says he knows of a vodka bar. I'm not really into the idea, but what the hell, it's almost quarter of 3 in the morning and the party is still going strong. This particular bar allows minors and stags, perfect for the three of us. We only had a round then left. After a little while of sitting and shooting the breeze and listening to yet another crappy DJ spin more crappy tunes we rolled out again. This time to drive around the mostly empty seashore. I remember this type of activity from my late high school days. It brought back memories. Driving around late at night, no one else around, learning the city for yourself...
Well we stopped and got "fruit cocktails" which were really closer to milkshakes, but not quite. I'm not sure what they were other than delicious and a little extra delicious because the vendor was open at 3:30AM. Finally we came back and crashed.
It felt amazingly good to have the faintest hint of a night life again!
Saturday, February 6, 2010
A cold night's sleep
The mountains in Lebanon where I am sit at 950 m. In the summer the weather is nearly perfect. Perhaps it gets a little hot because the latitude is far enough south, but otherwise perfect in the summer. However, 950m lends itself to an actual winter. The winter here is akin to that of east tennessee where I grew up. There is a principal difference though...
No heat in the bedrooms! The last two nights it's been freezing overnight and I have a window in my bedroom. In addition to that I have a large bedroom with high ceilings and very little insulation. The room is very close to the temperature outside. In the daytime we stay warm by sitting in a single room and gathering around the woodburning stove/oven/heater. When I retire to my room for the evening it's cold. Cold enough to see my breath. The tile floor doesn't exactly help either. YIKES IT'S COLD! In order to keep myself warm I've had to adopt a very Lebanese mountain way of sleeping; that is to say, wrapping myself completely in blankets, heavy blankets, and covering my head with a sweater. I even have to put a warm blanket down first to sleep on as the bedding itself is too cold to sleep on. So my method has been something of this sort...
I stay with the fire as long as possible, getting my sweatshirt or fleece as hot as possible. Then I jump into the bed with sweatpants and sweater on. I allow the blanket to get heated, then I remove the outermost sweater and put it on my pillow. I then fold the sweater over my head to create for myself a nice cacoon or hot air from my head. (Make all the jokes you want here, I'm happy to not freeze my face off.)
After this I pull the really heavy blankets all the over my head and curl up and ferociously rub my hands on the blankets to warm them with friction (again make all the jokes you want). After all this when my body heat radiates enough to sufficiently warm the bed I can sleep comfortably. I also realize I don't move a lot during the night because I have to heat other areas of the bed. So I've made it thus far, and it's been interesting. A couple more nights of sleeping in intense cold before going back to sleep in intense heat...
No heat in the bedrooms! The last two nights it's been freezing overnight and I have a window in my bedroom. In addition to that I have a large bedroom with high ceilings and very little insulation. The room is very close to the temperature outside. In the daytime we stay warm by sitting in a single room and gathering around the woodburning stove/oven/heater. When I retire to my room for the evening it's cold. Cold enough to see my breath. The tile floor doesn't exactly help either. YIKES IT'S COLD! In order to keep myself warm I've had to adopt a very Lebanese mountain way of sleeping; that is to say, wrapping myself completely in blankets, heavy blankets, and covering my head with a sweater. I even have to put a warm blanket down first to sleep on as the bedding itself is too cold to sleep on. So my method has been something of this sort...
I stay with the fire as long as possible, getting my sweatshirt or fleece as hot as possible. Then I jump into the bed with sweatpants and sweater on. I allow the blanket to get heated, then I remove the outermost sweater and put it on my pillow. I then fold the sweater over my head to create for myself a nice cacoon or hot air from my head. (Make all the jokes you want here, I'm happy to not freeze my face off.)
After this I pull the really heavy blankets all the over my head and curl up and ferociously rub my hands on the blankets to warm them with friction (again make all the jokes you want). After all this when my body heat radiates enough to sufficiently warm the bed I can sleep comfortably. I also realize I don't move a lot during the night because I have to heat other areas of the bed. So I've made it thus far, and it's been interesting. A couple more nights of sleeping in intense cold before going back to sleep in intense heat...
Friday, February 5, 2010
My favorite facial expressions
A phrase in arabic I've now grown accustomed to saying is "I live in India." Everyone 'round these here parts knows me as the American kid, or 'ibn Ghazi' or whatever. Well, people remember my dad and tell me stories about him, and they are quite funny. My dad's old friends make it sound as if he was a big punk-ass kid. I don't quite believe the hype, but it's fun being around to hear the same stories from so many perspectives.
Well, back to the facial expressions. The questions about where I live are simply intended to be small talk and I'm expected to render the answer of "Tennessee." I guess I could give a "TN" answer and I wouldn't be lying. In any case, as much as Chicago or Philadelphia would be surprising answers to their query, India is just on another level. I've been quite enjoying the double take, complete with wide eyes and extra vocalized "BIL HIND?" that accompany my response. At that point it is inevitable that one of my cousins explains why I'm living in India and basically gives my qualifications to someone who is also "in the family."
The next question to which I am invariably on the receiving end is "Do you speak Indian?"
I can't imagine the a country with so many languages spoken right here (Arabic, English, French, Armenian, and a few less known ones) is so full of people who think that India has ONE language and furthermore that they believe that language is "Indian." What I'm seeing is another principle difference in Lebanon and India. Lebanon is a miniature country. In fact there are only 32 countries smaller in area than Lebanon and most of them are island nations, or minor independent principalities (Monaco for example). India, on the other hand is its own subcontinent! I try to explain to people that India is basically like Europe when it comes to variety. With 22 OFFICIAL languages (plus at least literally 500 more) and a variety of food that boggles the mind, plus the different approaches to the different religions, India is basically its own continent. Turn back the clock just a few years to before the partition and Pakistan and Bangladesh (and in some sense Sri Lanka) join the mix and you really do have a continent.
Lebanon, on the other hand, is not exactly part of anything. It's sort of mediterranean, sort of middle eastern, sort of arab, sort of an ocean country. I don't think of Lebanon as part of the same subcontinent to which saudi arabia belongs, although I guess it is. I seems much closer in form to Egypt, but Egypt really IS in a different continent.
So there we have it, another amazing difference in two nations that couldn't really seem further apart. One is its own continent, one is fighting hard to make its own identity within the midst of several continents.
Well, back to the facial expressions. The questions about where I live are simply intended to be small talk and I'm expected to render the answer of "Tennessee." I guess I could give a "TN" answer and I wouldn't be lying. In any case, as much as Chicago or Philadelphia would be surprising answers to their query, India is just on another level. I've been quite enjoying the double take, complete with wide eyes and extra vocalized "BIL HIND?" that accompany my response. At that point it is inevitable that one of my cousins explains why I'm living in India and basically gives my qualifications to someone who is also "in the family."
The next question to which I am invariably on the receiving end is "Do you speak Indian?"
I can't imagine the a country with so many languages spoken right here (Arabic, English, French, Armenian, and a few less known ones) is so full of people who think that India has ONE language and furthermore that they believe that language is "Indian." What I'm seeing is another principle difference in Lebanon and India. Lebanon is a miniature country. In fact there are only 32 countries smaller in area than Lebanon and most of them are island nations, or minor independent principalities (Monaco for example). India, on the other hand is its own subcontinent! I try to explain to people that India is basically like Europe when it comes to variety. With 22 OFFICIAL languages (plus at least literally 500 more) and a variety of food that boggles the mind, plus the different approaches to the different religions, India is basically its own continent. Turn back the clock just a few years to before the partition and Pakistan and Bangladesh (and in some sense Sri Lanka) join the mix and you really do have a continent.
Lebanon, on the other hand, is not exactly part of anything. It's sort of mediterranean, sort of middle eastern, sort of arab, sort of an ocean country. I don't think of Lebanon as part of the same subcontinent to which saudi arabia belongs, although I guess it is. I seems much closer in form to Egypt, but Egypt really IS in a different continent.
So there we have it, another amazing difference in two nations that couldn't really seem further apart. One is its own continent, one is fighting hard to make its own identity within the midst of several continents.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Pines under a warm blanket of snow
This trip to Lebanon has been multifaceted. I really did come for mathematics this time. I came for the LSMS annual meeting last weekend, but decided while I'm here I might as well try to get some good contact at AUB and give a seminar lecture. I could go sit with faculty members for a while and POSSIBLY improve my chances of getting hired from 0.1% all the way to 0.5%. If you know anything about getting hired in academics that's a big jump and one that any self promoting person would be remiss to ignore.
Well I'd been hearing about possible snow fall the last couple days. Being up in the mountains it is likely. The snow was supposed to come down heavily Wednesday and snow through Thursday afternoon and let up. Well, nothing came Wednesday except cold rain. But this doesn't close roads or schools. I thought my chances were good. So I woke up on Thursday and realized there was snow everywhere. I saw maybe 3-4 inches, which in Chicago speak is "a dusting" and didn't worry too much about it. My family decided that I should try to take the bus down to Beirut. I am totally willing to catch a bus to Beirut so that I can go give a lecture and hang out in Beirut for a while. Well, one of my cousins drove me to the next village over to the bus stop and we asked about the bus. Apparently, negotiating the mountains in Lebanon is different than negotiating them in east Tennessee and especially different from chicago. The bus was only going half way, then I'd have to catch another car or bus or something, but it's not the easiest task to cross that point. Well, my cousin decided we might try to go to the halfway point and catch a bus there. We couldn't even make it. The weather turned very bad before we got there and we decided to turn around. So back we come, my chances of employment holding steady at 0.1%.
Driving back though, I was able to look out the side windows as we had to drive very slowly. I realized that it is really wonderful to travel to places in the off season. I'd been asked why I would come to Lebanon during the winter as "there's nothing to do." I think I got my answer today. In the summer, you don't get to see the snow on the pines. I'm again terribly sorry to not have my camera (stupid me leaving it in Sri Lanka!). I think the pines all over the pines are stunning. Driving back I got to see them in a way that I never have before, and if I only came during the summers, I wouldn't ever get to see. The valleys really are empty and so the snow balances delicately on the tree branches, dances atop old run down buildings, and blankets fields. Having grown up in east tennessee's mountains I had seen mountain snow before, but this is different. The scenery is different, and the appearance of freshness will last longer I'm sure since people tend to just buckle down and bundle up during the cold. I'll be sad to not have another opportunity to lecture in Beirut for several months, but at least I got to see something new and beautiful.
Well I'd been hearing about possible snow fall the last couple days. Being up in the mountains it is likely. The snow was supposed to come down heavily Wednesday and snow through Thursday afternoon and let up. Well, nothing came Wednesday except cold rain. But this doesn't close roads or schools. I thought my chances were good. So I woke up on Thursday and realized there was snow everywhere. I saw maybe 3-4 inches, which in Chicago speak is "a dusting" and didn't worry too much about it. My family decided that I should try to take the bus down to Beirut. I am totally willing to catch a bus to Beirut so that I can go give a lecture and hang out in Beirut for a while. Well, one of my cousins drove me to the next village over to the bus stop and we asked about the bus. Apparently, negotiating the mountains in Lebanon is different than negotiating them in east Tennessee and especially different from chicago. The bus was only going half way, then I'd have to catch another car or bus or something, but it's not the easiest task to cross that point. Well, my cousin decided we might try to go to the halfway point and catch a bus there. We couldn't even make it. The weather turned very bad before we got there and we decided to turn around. So back we come, my chances of employment holding steady at 0.1%.
Driving back though, I was able to look out the side windows as we had to drive very slowly. I realized that it is really wonderful to travel to places in the off season. I'd been asked why I would come to Lebanon during the winter as "there's nothing to do." I think I got my answer today. In the summer, you don't get to see the snow on the pines. I'm again terribly sorry to not have my camera (stupid me leaving it in Sri Lanka!). I think the pines all over the pines are stunning. Driving back I got to see them in a way that I never have before, and if I only came during the summers, I wouldn't ever get to see. The valleys really are empty and so the snow balances delicately on the tree branches, dances atop old run down buildings, and blankets fields. Having grown up in east tennessee's mountains I had seen mountain snow before, but this is different. The scenery is different, and the appearance of freshness will last longer I'm sure since people tend to just buckle down and bundle up during the cold. I'll be sad to not have another opportunity to lecture in Beirut for several months, but at least I got to see something new and beautiful.
Still searching for the plane
Eleven days ago Lebanon experienced an unprecedented event. I plane departing from Beirut International Airport crashed just off shore killing all its passengers. No plane leaving from Lebanon has ever crashed before arriving at its destination.
The plane was en route to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia and was carrying Ethiopians, Lebanese, Americans,a small host of Europeans and other Africans. I heard about this before I'd left India, but didn't give it much attention due to the attention on the earthquake in Haiti. Listening to world news in different parts of the world is an interesting enterprise. Every night since I've been here the news is completely filled with stories relating to the plane and almost nothing else. I've heard only a smattering of news concerning Haiti, and almost no other news of international concern.
In the sporting news, however, despite the fact that Lebanese people have NO IDEA what cricket is, or that it's even a sport, I was able to watch a big chunk of the Australia v. Pakistan ODI series. I've also heard quite a bit about the African Cup of Nations (Soccer) Tournament where Egypt beat Algeria and Ghana to capture to title for the third consecutive time. Somehow, Egypt gets a lot of attention in Lebanon, while I rarely hear about Algeria, Libya, or Tunisia. Go figure...
All things being held equal, the plane is far and away the biggest story here, while I'm sure Haiti is dominating most of the west's news. I've been hearing stories of families of young persons who perished in the crash, stories of religious leaders (from almost all of Lebanon's MAJOR religious groups) coming together for prayers and funerals. News about bringing in outside naval units from Europe and further to search for the black box and every other sort of story devoted to a tragic event. But it is really bizarre to have this be the dominant story after having heard nearly nothing but Haiti for a week beforehand.
The plane was en route to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia and was carrying Ethiopians, Lebanese, Americans,a small host of Europeans and other Africans. I heard about this before I'd left India, but didn't give it much attention due to the attention on the earthquake in Haiti. Listening to world news in different parts of the world is an interesting enterprise. Every night since I've been here the news is completely filled with stories relating to the plane and almost nothing else. I've heard only a smattering of news concerning Haiti, and almost no other news of international concern.
In the sporting news, however, despite the fact that Lebanese people have NO IDEA what cricket is, or that it's even a sport, I was able to watch a big chunk of the Australia v. Pakistan ODI series. I've also heard quite a bit about the African Cup of Nations (Soccer) Tournament where Egypt beat Algeria and Ghana to capture to title for the third consecutive time. Somehow, Egypt gets a lot of attention in Lebanon, while I rarely hear about Algeria, Libya, or Tunisia. Go figure...
All things being held equal, the plane is far and away the biggest story here, while I'm sure Haiti is dominating most of the west's news. I've been hearing stories of families of young persons who perished in the crash, stories of religious leaders (from almost all of Lebanon's MAJOR religious groups) coming together for prayers and funerals. News about bringing in outside naval units from Europe and further to search for the black box and every other sort of story devoted to a tragic event. But it is really bizarre to have this be the dominant story after having heard nearly nothing but Haiti for a week beforehand.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Romantic Notions of the Homeland
Yesterday was groundhog day in America. It's a holiday I generally ignore. Punxsutawney Phil is generally incorrect in his "predictions" of the weather and overall it's a silly Holiday. I think the best thing about it must be the Bill Murray and Andie McDowell movie of the same name, or the fact that we care for a groundhog named Punxsutawney Phil for a whole year to allow him to perform some stupid stunt on February 2. There are also other "famous" groundhogs such as Marion, Ohio's "Buckeye Chuck" and Quarryville, PA's Octoraro Orphie and a host of others. None of this, however, has anything to do with what I'm actually thinking about, but I gotta take take for America's silly holidays that I'm missing in droves.
Yesterday in Lebanon was simply the birthday of one of my many cousins' husbands. Note, the grammar here may be used to imply polygamy. This is not the case. Incest, perhaps, polygamy, definitely not... So I went over to their house and sat around watching movies and partaking in a little scotch and some Turkish beer. The "party" was subdued. I think in general, birthdays are not a big reason for celebration here. I guess this stems from the idea that people don't look as attractive when they age as when they are in their 20's and 30's and everyone here wants to ignore that. In fact I asked another cousin of mine how old she was, and she honestly didn't know. She'd been saying she's 35 for nearly 20 years, and so she just didn't know her age. Well, whatever, I'm American and we celebrate birthdays. I was happy to sit around and have some tasty beverages at a house where I won't be chided for it.
As I left, I decided I'd have one more beer on my own and walk around the village at night by myself. Everyone here was expecting a big snow for today (so far, nothing) and so no one was out and about. I walked down to my grandmother's house, walked up to the main village square, went up on the roof of one aunt's house and just got a great view of the Lebanese mountains on a still winter night. I've been thinking a lot recently about what it will be like to live in Lebanon for some time if hired by a university. Most likely I'll have to be down on the coast in the hustle and bustle of Beirut, which will be fun for me, but in my heart I'm from the mountains. I grew up in mountains which are just slightly smaller than those in which my family resides. I really love the hill country. I am, after all, an ethnic hillbilly (hillbilly on both sides!). So staring out into the (not so cold) night with my breath appearing and then vanishing in front of me, I dreamed about everything Lebanon can be. I poured out a little for all those who have passed, drank to my enemies and all the women I've ever loved, and came back to pass out.
What did I learn? I'm not I learned anything, but only allowed some ideas to crystallize. Getting time to oneself in the country can be a tough thing sometimes, so I just took my sweet time walking between the two houses. Lebanon isn't the culture to which I'm accustomed. It's not a shocking culture to me, but I realize having lived in Atlanta, Chicago, and Philadelphia, I'm ready to tackle Beirut. The problem for me living in the mountains with my family is that I'm expected to be a part of the traditional values to which I have no attachment. I'm sympathetic at times to the causes of my people, but I believe the world is changing. Just as people continue to insist on outdated social structures in Chennai, so to do they insist in Lebanon, and for that matter I'm sure in almost every part of the world. As miniature as Lebanon is, it still has several different conflicting societies. I believe I can be part of the big city society here, as well as part of the wine culture (a whole 30 miles away from Beirut) but neither of these are the homeland that my family longs for.
Yesterday in Lebanon was simply the birthday of one of my many cousins' husbands. Note, the grammar here may be used to imply polygamy. This is not the case. Incest, perhaps, polygamy, definitely not... So I went over to their house and sat around watching movies and partaking in a little scotch and some Turkish beer. The "party" was subdued. I think in general, birthdays are not a big reason for celebration here. I guess this stems from the idea that people don't look as attractive when they age as when they are in their 20's and 30's and everyone here wants to ignore that. In fact I asked another cousin of mine how old she was, and she honestly didn't know. She'd been saying she's 35 for nearly 20 years, and so she just didn't know her age. Well, whatever, I'm American and we celebrate birthdays. I was happy to sit around and have some tasty beverages at a house where I won't be chided for it.
As I left, I decided I'd have one more beer on my own and walk around the village at night by myself. Everyone here was expecting a big snow for today (so far, nothing) and so no one was out and about. I walked down to my grandmother's house, walked up to the main village square, went up on the roof of one aunt's house and just got a great view of the Lebanese mountains on a still winter night. I've been thinking a lot recently about what it will be like to live in Lebanon for some time if hired by a university. Most likely I'll have to be down on the coast in the hustle and bustle of Beirut, which will be fun for me, but in my heart I'm from the mountains. I grew up in mountains which are just slightly smaller than those in which my family resides. I really love the hill country. I am, after all, an ethnic hillbilly (hillbilly on both sides!). So staring out into the (not so cold) night with my breath appearing and then vanishing in front of me, I dreamed about everything Lebanon can be. I poured out a little for all those who have passed, drank to my enemies and all the women I've ever loved, and came back to pass out.
What did I learn? I'm not I learned anything, but only allowed some ideas to crystallize. Getting time to oneself in the country can be a tough thing sometimes, so I just took my sweet time walking between the two houses. Lebanon isn't the culture to which I'm accustomed. It's not a shocking culture to me, but I realize having lived in Atlanta, Chicago, and Philadelphia, I'm ready to tackle Beirut. The problem for me living in the mountains with my family is that I'm expected to be a part of the traditional values to which I have no attachment. I'm sympathetic at times to the causes of my people, but I believe the world is changing. Just as people continue to insist on outdated social structures in Chennai, so to do they insist in Lebanon, and for that matter I'm sure in almost every part of the world. As miniature as Lebanon is, it still has several different conflicting societies. I believe I can be part of the big city society here, as well as part of the wine culture (a whole 30 miles away from Beirut) but neither of these are the homeland that my family longs for.
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