The Highs, The Lows -- That Ever-Present Contrast

After camp at the Institute for Gandhian Studies, I spent most of the month of January visiting the homes of my previous Rotary GSE hosts from 2011 since I was conveniently in Maharashtra for the camp.  No doubt that one of the more exciting opportunities my scholarship presents is to be able to reunite with such incredible people who became instant family to me in the midst of a pretty life-changing experience.  I spent time with Ishwar and his family in Beed, the Sheths in Latur, Dr. Pankaj and his family in Latur, Fahim, Anand and their families in Solapur, Pankaj & Vibha in Solapur and the Gopalkrishnan’s in Ahmednagar.  

Rotarians in WI may remember these funny faces :)  It was so incredible getting to meet their families back in India.

It feels like a dream to be in the presence of all of these lovely people again.  I’m constantly thinking, “Wow, how did I get here?” - reflecting on how fortunate I am to not only once get to visit India and enjoy incredible experiences and create deeply caring relationships, but to return and reconnect, hoping that all of these wonderful people can sense how much they mean to me, more deeply than my words communicate.  They certainly do a good job conveying how much they love me - I can only hope they realize the depth of my love and gratitude for them, as well.  

Reuniting with Rotarians of Beed

Rotary Club of Kaij

I visited schools, historical sites, Rotary clubs, met more family members, played with all the adorable kiddos, observed the makings of delicious Maharashtrian, Malayali and Rajasthani & Gujarati Jain foods, and got fat.  Yes, I gained some kilos in a few weeks.  Jeans became uncomfortably tight.  But damn.  There is so much incredible food and it is offered every five minutes of the day and there’s absolutely no exercise.  And if you say that you remember eating such-and-such delicious food from the last trip or you ask what a particular food is that you have never had before, moments later it will appear before you.  

Delicious Maharashtrian breakfast

A cow enjoying her offering

A couple of experiences I particularly want to share - -  (Sorry, Mom.  You won’t like hearing about these things.)

There is a family that I visited that I did not list above.  It was a husband and wife who I stayed with in 2011.  It was a fine visit in 2011.  The husband treated me in a fatherly manner.  He enjoyed talking at the end of each day and imparting career-type advice to me.  They were a nice couple and we stayed in touch from afar via facebook.  The day I returned for a visit in January, we were invited to dinner at their friends’ home.  The friends wished to say farewell to the man and his wife as they would be moving to Mumbai.  After dinner, I offered to take some photos since I had my camera with me.  During one photo that the wife took, the husband’s arm came around me and his hand landed on my left cheek (not my face cheek).  I have never seen myself looking more awkward in a photo than in that one.  What a disturbing memento.  And in such moments, I have a tendency to do whatever I need to do to get the moment over with without issue rather than responding confrontationally, but often later regretting my subdued response.  <<Oh no, this is not the first time that someone has played the old hand-on-the-ass-photo-opp-trick on me here in India.  I’ve also heard other foreign women share this experience.  I wonder if fathers hand it down to sons.>>  But, what does one do when having to stay at this person’s home for the next two nights?  I have other friends in that city so I should have slapped him and made arrangements to stay with someone else but, I did not.  I let it go, hoping it would be the only incident of such a nature, and I made sure that the bedroom door locked from the inside before I went to sleep that night.  I found myself feeling tense and afraid in his company during the remaining two days of my visit, particularly when we were alone.  On the last day, he took me to his factory.  He picked up another man on the way and I really didn’t know where we were going.  My mind raced with paranoid possibilities and mental preparation of how I would defend myself if needed.  Luckily we made it to the factory.  After the factory tour we went to lunch together.  Another moment alone in the car, mind racing again.  After lunch, he was to drop me off at my next host’s home, but the next host had not yet returned from an out-of-town engagement.  We had arranged that I would be dropped off and have the next host’s home to myself so I could rest after so much traveling.  I was looking forward to that as well as to be out of creepy host’s company.  A caretaker let us in the home.  My previous host (Rtn. Ass-Grabber) had spoken to the caretaker in Marathi and then in English said something about staying for tea.  I presumed that the caretaker offered, but then the caretaker left without giving us tea so I confusedly made the tea in an unfamiliar kitchen where I found some green tea bags, a lemon, some honey and a microwave.  When I handed the cup of tea to Rtn. Ass-Grabber, he walked away with it to the bedroom which was equidistant from the kitchen as the living room was (where platonic male/female friends would normally sit to have tea in cultures spanning the globe). Once again, fear arose as I realized that we were alone and he was behaving inappropriately.  I stood in the hallway, “admiring family photos” with my tea to avoid entering the bedroom.  He called me in at some point I guess because I finally went in.  He was sitting on the end of the bed and patted the spot next to him and suggesting that I sit.  Instead, unsuccessfully attempting to hide my panic, I walked across the room and started switching the dials of the air conditioner, complaining of how it was too cold in the room.  Eventually I “gave up” and suggested that we sit in the living room where the windows were open, offering a more comfortable temperature.  I darted out and he followed me.  We had our tea in the living room and talked about I-don’t-know-what because I was preoccupied with trying to hide my tension behind a poker face.  Finally he left, and I was exhausted.  I took a nap.  When I awoke, I saw a text message from him saying he was coming back at 8pm with another man I had met before who wanted to visit me while I was in town.  Panic once again.  My new hosts were not returning until 10pm which he knew.  I didn’t trust that he would really be coming with this other man so I called for back-up.  I explained to my other friends what had happened.  They were disgusted, confirming that I had not misread the situation, and ensured me that they would keep me safe.  One of them came over with his wife and child to be present during the time that these men were planning to visit, feigning a reunion between them, as well.  Eventually everyone left and my new host came home with his wife, unaware of what went down during the day.  I wasn’t sure if I should tell them what had happened and I guess I just wanted relief from it all and since I was safe in their care, I just let it go at the time.  So that’s that.  I’m thankful for the love and support of other Rotarian friends here who are encouraging and assisting me in reporting this behavior to the district so that it doesn’t happen to anyone else in the future. In the end, I doesn’t seem that this guy was intending to force anything on me, though I couldn’t have known that at the time, but he was just testing the waters and being hopeful.  Disgusting regardless.

So why stop there?  Why not get all of the inappropriate male behavior I’ve been subjected to here all out in the open in one ugly blog post?  I’ve debated telling these stories because they’re so negative, and I haven’t trusted myself to not just spew rage onto the paper as I convey them.  But at this point, I’m not feeling the rage I once (or many times) did.  I’ve had many moments where all I could do was generalize about men of this country but I’m moving past that (not to say that there isn’t indeed a problem in this vein, but it doesn’t help to man-hate all day everyday).  I will just share my experiences and try not to draw conclusions or comparisons between countries/cultures.  The reader can take the information, my perceptions, and put them in whatever compartment they fit into in your mind.  

So next up is my trip to Ahmedabad.  After Gandhi camp and touring Maharashtra I decided to embark on my first ever solo travel in India and explore Gujarat.  I’ve traveled alone, bussing a couple of hours away in Kerala, taking a 5-hour train in Maharashtra, but I always had someone to receive me on the other end or some non-tourist destination to get to.  But traveling alone as a tourist in India is a very different thing, especially for a woman.  I was inspired to check out Gujarat for a number of reasons.  I could visit Gandhi’s birthplace in Porbander, his ashram and the annual kite festival in Ahmedabad, an incredible Jain temple, the beautiful desert of Kutch, and enjoy the unique textiles and scrumptious foods known to the state.  I heard so much about how developed and safe Gujarat is, but was certainly warned of traveling alone.  But, you know.  I was being stubborn.  I’m an American woman.  I can go anywhere and do anything.  One friend, in all seriousness, suggested that I wear a burka to conceal that I’m a foreigner so that I wouldn’t be hassled.  

So I embarked.  And perhaps I should remind you that I was already exhausted by so much travel and a traumatic experience with that one host by this time (and that one time a few weeks earlier that I had to ditch a creepy guy from a cab who was “helping” me when I got bumped off the train, and a time that a drunk man was following me home on the bus, and that time a kid grabbed my ass in the crowd of boys on the beach, and all the times I had heard of my friends being grabbed, and the time a guy grabbed my butt during a photo opp in 2011, and the blog post my friend back home wrote about a man’s aroused body pressing into hers on a bus in India, and the time I befriended a neighbor who turned out to be completely misogynistic and self-righteous, and the time a guy cornered my friend and asked for a kiss, and, and, and...).  First, I was seated by some overly-friendly men on the plane who wanted to give me a ride to my hotel.  I lied and said that a friend was picking me up at the airport and after we landed, I hid out in the bathroom and called a cab while they collected their baggage.  It’s such a seemingly un-problem but after awhile it feels like you’re always being pursued as you run and hide and think up lies and escapes.  You just want to not talk to any men ever, avoiding all eye contact to assure that you don’t have to later deal with the hassles of getting them off your back.  And the nice ones get little opportunity to even BE nice because it’s not worth finding out who is nice when you have to deal with so many of the not-nice ones in the process.  So I eventually got to my hotel in Ahmedabad and locked myself in for awhile.  For many hours, in fact, despite the noxious fumes of 15 moth balls found in the closet giving me a terrible headache.  Finally, guilt motivated me to get out and see what the kite festival had on offer.  I walked there and endured some cat-calling from passing cars as I crossed the bridge.  Some sweet teenage girls who spoke about 5 words of English guided me to the festival and then sweetly escorted me through it and bought me a pakora before they had to catch their train back to their village.  Within ten minutes I was molested.  The crowd was not so dense that bodies had to squeeze past each other but a man walked by me and extended his arm out a couple feet from his side so that his hand could graze a part of my body that he certainly should not have been touching as he passed by.  I was shocked.  All I could think was, “Really???  That’s exciting for this guy???  Wow.”  I’ve replayed that scene so many times in my mind since then, imagining me clenching his wrist and shouting at him, creating a scene, and throwing down some martial arts moves I do not actually know.  But instead, I kept walking, and so did he.  I was in no mood to be polite any longer so when a couple of teenage boys asked for my photo I shot them down and decided to always shoot unknown males of any age down when they ask for my photo in the future (it’s a common occurrence for children, and sometimes adults, to request photos of foreigners).  I took an auto to a temple which was uneventful in the way of harassment but not very enjoyable in the mood I was in.  Then to the hotel for the night, skipping dinner, avoiding.  The next day I again stayed in the hotel much too long but eventually ventured out to visit Gandhi’s ashram on the river.  I had read online that it’s such a peaceful place where the presence of Gandhiji can be felt.  Ahhhhhh.  “Won’t that be nice,” I thought.  I got there an hour before it was closing so when a man approached me and told me he worked there and began rushedly guiding me through the museum and grounds, I thought he just wanted me to see all there was to see before it closed.  Of course it occurred to me that he did not work there really, but I thought that perhaps he just was trying to get a tip out of me, which I didn’t mind at the time (or have the energy to mind at the time).  He took me into Gandhi’s temple which is the size of a kid’s play house.  We had to crouch down to crawl inside.  He prayed, gave me a marigold to place as an offering, blessed me, called me his sister and wrapped his arms around me for a hug.  Oh, religion - How many times have you been abused by creeps wanting to cop a feel, or worse?  Countless.  We exited the temple and I was heading for the exit of the ashram when he told me that there was a garden next door that he wanted me to see.  It was nearing the end of daylight so I said I had to go to my hotel.  He offered me a ride on his scooter which I declined.  He offered to get me an auto-rickshaw which he did by hailing someone from across the street.  As I got in he leaned in for another hug and said the word “kiss” to which I shoved his face away.  As we drove away, the auto driver informed me that he was a “bad man.”  For some reason, I wasn’t ready to believe that the auto driver had any right calling the kettle black and I was proven correct moments later when he tried pulling back deep into the dark alley behind my hotel in order to intimidate me as he ripped me off with the pay-what-you-want-to-pay-game which ended with, “no, no, that’s not enough” after I gave him certainly more than enough, buying into his psychological scam.  Again, too exhausted to fight.  Back in my hotel room, I worried that Creepy Auto Driver might tell Creepy Not-Gandhi-Ashram-Employee which hotel I was staying in so I pushed my coffee table and chair up against the door after locking it for the night, and slept with my eyebrow trimming scissors under my pillow.  I mournfully decided I would not go to the beautiful desert and instead booked a flight to Mumbai for the following morning.  I thought I could spend a couple of days there with two girls I had met at the Gandhian camp to ease me back into a state of psychological normalcy before returning to Kerala.  It was a good idea because I got to get their take on my experiences and also spend time with their families and get a new boost of Indian family love which fuels me through all of this.  Yet I still came back to Kerala a twitching, gnarly mess after so many run-ins with unsavory characters.  

But to be honest, I have had a really hard time with all of this since I came here.  It seems to affect me more negatively than my other female foreign friends.  Perhaps it relates to the particular time in my life (I’m in a less energetic, outgoing phase these days).  Maybe it’s difficult for me because I’m always criticizing the way I respond to such situations.  I don’t react impulsively as I’m busy pondering the other person’s intentions, often giving them the benefit of the doubt, at least for awhile.  I am a flighter, not fighter and sometimes I feel disappointingly cowardly about myself.  But whatever the reason, these experiences have (or I have allowed these experiences to have) caused me a great deal of avoidance and shut-in-ness.  Instead of interacting with the curious world around me, I spent more time than I’d like to admit just feeling safe and calm at my home.  But I also tend to be a bit hard on myself, feeling guilty that I didn’t take full advantage of things and forcing myself to do things for reasons that I “should” do them, ignoring my true feelings and instincts.  So perhaps I can instead applaud myself for actually heeding the voice telling me to just stay in and rest and not have to take on whatever onslaught lay ahead.  But whatever the analysis, these are the things I have experienced.  

Oh yeah.  Here's the damn kite festival.  ;)

Gandhian Studies Camp - Wardha

Way back yonder in December 2012, I attended a 1-week Gandhian Studies camp in Wardha, Maharashtra.  Wardha neighbors Sevagram, a small village where Gandhi lived from 1936 until 1948 and set up an ashram.  I wasn't sure exactly what to expect at the camp, but the website of the Institute of Gandhian Studies refers to residents and guests of their programs as "inmates" and boasts their commitment to ashram life - waking up at 4am for prayer/meditation, early morning yoga, community work, more prayer, etc.

It was a rough start, before I even got there.  I was a confused foreigner who got on a train and was told that my ticket was not valid (still on waiting list) so just 40 minutes into my journey, I had to de-train and come up with plan B.  I then trusted the wrong person for information and ended up having to stealthily ditch a creepy guy who wanted to party all night and share a hotel room with me, which was rather frightening.  But I ended up in the airport guest house for the night, all by myself, in a giant, air-conditioned room, awaiting my flight ("plan B," devised on my iPhone, which I was so grateful to have) in the morning.  For as much as I like to "rough it" or live like the locals (or so I thought before this trip), I was certainly happy to enjoy some western comforts.  Hot water shower, cool A/C, a full-length mirror to dance in front of, a whole entire hotel room to myself, nearby fast food (Chinese and French fries) and easily navigable air transportation in the morning.  Okay, back up.  Should I explain the dancing-in-front-of-the-mirror thing?  Maybe it's not normal, so okay.  As I analyze it now, I realize that there are probably a couple of reasons for that.  First, after an exhausting day, I really needed to celebrate my comfort, safety and solitude.  And secondly, I think I just needed to move and it's really impossible when there is no A/C.  I've been a complete slug since I got to this country.  You know how Mexicans take siesta?  And we say other cultures embody a slower pace than us Americans?  I really think it's largely due to the climate.  It's really difficult to move and be productive in the sweltering heat.  The most activity you can eek out of me is in the early morning, and just some gentle yoga at that.  I can't imagine doing any cardio work.  Oh god, that sounds like hell.

So I eventually made it to the Institute and a young woman showed me to my room.  I was sharing with three other girls who were out yet at the evening's cultural program.  It was a simple room with four beds draped with mosquito netting.  I settled in and eventually met the young women I would be bunking with.  They were all from Kerala (the state where I stay), so we were collectively "the Kerala girls."  But I was still a goose among ducks.

The rest of the week was filled with lectures and seminars by professors, a doctor (Gandhiji's nephew) and the director of an NGO named Snehalaya (more to come in other posts about Snehalaya).  In addition to daytime lectures, we watched documentary films, had group discussions, enjoyed cultural programs and took a few field trips - one, of course, to Sevagram ashram to experience Gandhi's dwelling.






We didn't quite observe the 4am prayer routine, but the mornings were a bit rough, nonetheless.  Wake-up time was 5:30 with prayer at 6 and tea at 6:20.  Mornings and evenings were freezing cold all week which made it extra difficult to rise.  After tea, we broke into small groups to tackle the community work. I eventually got into the routine of volunteering for the kitchen, chopping onions and choking back tears and sniffles, and avoided having to clean the hostel toilets.





After community work, we headed back to the hostels to prepare for our baths.  The industrious young women I had the pleasure of staying with built up a small fire pit and boiled a large pot of water over it each morning.  We took turns filling it up and taking some for our bucket-baths.  I didn't realize this the first day (the availability of hot water, nor the ability to bathe after community work) so I took a frigid shower at 5am the first day.  I was prepared to not bathe the rest of the week after that, but thankfully the girls came up with an alternative system.  After bathing we had breakfast.  We got into the meal routine of setting up the plates, serving one another, and washing our own dishes each time afterward.  The rest of the day was lectures, cultural programs, field trips, documentary films, meals and tea with a 2-hour rest period in the afternoon (to nap or wash clothes, etc.).

About 60 kids from all over India attended the camp.  I'd say I learned the most through my interactions with the other students.  I had never seen Indians from different states interacting before and it really opened up my eyes to how very different the culture is from state to state here.  So many different languages, different ways of dressing, very different ways of eating and food preferences, etc.  But such a strong, passionate sense of unity.



The Institute runs an 8-month diploma program in Gandhian & Peace Studies, as well.  About 6 students from that program joined us in all activities for the week.  Two of those students were foreigners - Kerry and Modi - from South Sudan.  It was incredible learning from them about their lives back home, the recent history of their country's independence from Sudan, and the conflict that existed and continues to exist.  They both came to the Institute seeking knowledge to implement peacemaking strategies back home.  It was incredibly admirable.

Like any camp experience, we campers made great friendships with one another and many tears were shed on the day of departure.  My next stop was to visit families around the state who I stayed with in 2011, since I was back in Maharashtra again.  More blogs to follow on that.

Oh yeah - It was Christmas!  Students decorating.  Below: The finished product at night.

Meal time

Where we washed our dishes after each meal

Gandhi's residence at the ashram

Where Gandhi slept

Gandhi's, um...

I learned to hand-wash my clothes the proper Indian way.

The peaceful art of spinning (after the frustrating learning process)

New friends saying farewell on the final afternoon

This is What I Do Sometimes - Rotary Presentations

It has been a busy, and non-busy couple of months.  Kind of a bipolar situation.  But when it is busy, it's quite intense, and then when it's not busy, I suppose I'm mostly recovering and resting and haven't been great at updating blogs.  So this is a bit past-due but I gave my first presentation to my host Rotary club in December.  It was nice to meet the members and to feel more connected.  They had great and engaging questions at the end, such as, "Is there poverty in the US?"  I also learned about the club's main project: supporting rag-pickers (people who scour wastelands for useable items to sell) and utilizing them as powerful members of society in the city-wide "Green Kottayam, Clean Kottayam" initiative.  The club also supports cancer patients, individuals with cerebral palsy, and other bed-ridden patients in their homes through pain and palliative care by providing medicines, counseling and rehabilitation services.  Additionally, the club supports a home where about 60 residents receive care related to mental and physical challenges.  

Here are some photos from the evening.  

My host counselor, Anil

 Club president, Bijumon

 Rotary fellowship

Someone else's camera got a better shot, I think.  Haha.. 

Many Rotarians have family members abroad in the US so it's always fun to learn where they are, what they're doing and what they report home about the culture and adjustment.

Another Day, Another Mission

Yesterday I discovered that my laptop wouldn’t power on.  I remained calm, but my stomach sank as I pondered what I would do.  I purchased a MacBook intentionally because I wanted the most glitch-free device while in India, knowing that once I was here it would be difficult to procure service and that I would be more prone to virus threats which Macs stand up to better than PCs.  Good thinking, Jess.  Smart girl.  But I’ve since come to learn that Apple products are not popular here in India, therefore, sales & service centers are few and far between, in the off-chance that I’d need service.  After an Internet search (on my phone) I learned that there was no such place in the entire state.  But there was a business in Kochi (2 hours away by road) which claimed to repair Apple devices.  I called and made plans to come the next day (that’s today).  This post isn’t about technological issues.  It’s about getting things done in India, which is very different from getting things done in the USA.  Add being a foreigner, and it gets a little messier even.  

So I got a text from Maneesh from the IT shop in Kochi with the address.  Some random address in some random place.

I don’t know Kochi at all.  I know it is where the airport is.  An airport I have used three times now.  Each time, I’ve rented a car to or from the airport so I’m not familiar with how to get there by train or bus.  It’s a bit pricey to rent a car and this time I couldn’t justify the expense so I decided to take a bus.  Conveniently, I could catch a bus at my usual bus stop near my house, my roommates said.  Supposedly they come every few minutes.  

So this is what the journey looked like today.  First, I wish I could describe what it feels like to put one foot in front of the other not knowing really how you’re getting to some vague place.  I wasn’t even sure which side of the road to catch the bus on (meaning, which direction Kochi was in).  I can blame that on my poor sense of direction and attention to detail over many months.  So setting out of the house, I felt timid and humbled by the task in front of me.  I walked to my bus stop.  Success thus far.  Actually, by the time I gathered the energy to ask a stranger for help identifying a bus to Kochi (the labels on the buses are in Malayalam which uses an entirely different script I cannot read), I had missed one bus that would’ve gotten me there.  But soon after there was another.  When I asked if it went to Kochi, I got some positive body language (I think) and people said it went to Ernakulam.  To the best of my knowledge, Kochi and Ernakulam are kind of twin cities.  So, I figured, good enough, and hoped for the best.  As I settled into my seat, I felt like I could relax for a good hour before I had to devise a strategy for knowing when to get off the bus.  After that relaxation period, I started looking at google maps on my phone to see my gps location in relation to the google map of the shop.  (Yes, this entire post indeed showcases how much of a spoiled American I am with my tech devices.)  I eventually determined roughly where I would get off.  Not quite yet.  But soon.  But then the bus money-taker guy comes to me and tells me to get off the bus.  I guess I had to?  Was it the last stop before turning back?  Well, close enough.  So I got down.  Dodging oncoming traffic, I made my way to the side of the road.  “Here I am at some random place in India again,” I thought.  I experience this acknowledgement often.  I found a row of auto-rickshaws and showed the drivers my text from Maneesh.  They discussed I-don’t-know-what and then one of them said “come” and we began our journey.  He eventually stopped and said “wait” and left me in the auto-rickshaw.  It seems he was asking others where the building was located.  When he came back, I called Maneesh so the two could speak.  They did.  We had arrived at the correct building, as an open window seemed to indicate according to a gesture by my driver (ah yes, yes of course), so I say farewell to the driver and find my way up to the third floor (which they call “2nd floor”).  Phew.  I made it.  The process of finding a specific location in a random-seeming place with zero sense of direction definitely causes me to respect time and space, as well as to realize just how abstract these concepts are.

It definitely wasn’t an Apple service center but it looked as legit as anything here.  I met Maneesh who was seemingly apologetic from the get go but I was confused for a minute.  Hadn’t we talked and he said he could fix my laptop and I had successfully made it to his shop?  What was I overlooking?  Oh, the power was out.  For the entire day, apparently, he explained.  Maneesh said that this very rarely happens for an entire day.  He spoke with his employees in Malayalam while I conjured ideas of hijacking Maneesh in an auto-rickshaw to a hotel or some place with a generator where he could work on my laptop.  I wasn’t ready to admit defeat quite yet (and I’ve learned here that defeat presents itself quite easily and it’s compulsory to not settle at the first roadblock).  I soon gathered from their discussion, however, that there was some limited power source that he could use to test some basic functions with.  Someone came back with a small black box.  We plugged my laptop into it.  Nothing.  We tried another power cord.  Nothing.  Maneesh said that it was not a cord or battery issue, but a motherboard issue which will take a few days to work on. It wouldn’t be done today.  Whut.  Do I leave my laptop with these people at this random place in India?  Did he really do a thorough diagnostic investigation?  Well, thanks to my friend James who sent me a link to the trouble-shooting page on the Apple website, I noticed that they had not tried a few of the recommended procedures, so I asked them to unscrew and open up the laptop to take a look inside.  <Unscrewing is another story.  I had intended to do this myself at home yesterday but that entailed taking a bus into town to ask around at optical shops for a teeny screwdriver, which I managed to finally purchase, only to realize at home that it still didn’t fit the screws on my laptop. Yesterday’s mission: failed.>  Maneesh and crew obliged.  I had suspected ants in the computer as I’m often flicking them off of my keyboard.  But it appeared nice and clean inside.  I then asked them to unscrew the battery and put it back in.  They did.  These steps seem a little bit like the old bang-the-side-of-the-TV game but who was I to question the official Apple troubleshooting techniques?  Just as the banging tends to have magical efficacy, the battery-in-out trick also worked.  Ha!  Hooray!  Power was restored!  I didn’t have to leave my laptop in a random place in India on planet Earth unsure of how to re-navigate my way back to the place (which I never would have done, actually, as I was prepared to face not using a laptop for the duration of my time here versus leaving it).  I ended up buying a new power adapter and was on my way again.  

When I asked Maneesh how to catch a bus back to my city, he said to ask an auto-rickshaw driver for “hub.”  It was actually “_____-transit-hub,” a title involving some word in Malayalam I was not catching.  So Maneesh assured me that I could just say “hub.”  I found an auto, asked for “hub,” asked a hub station manager for my bus when I got there, and then a nice young woman pointed me directly to my bus which was so kindly waiting for me with plenty of empty seats.  I found my spot and settled in, determined to reward myself for the day’s toils by stopping to purchase a pineapple when I got back to town, which I did.  Seriously, the pineapple here is like nothing your mouth has ever enjoyed before.  I feel sorry for your mouth.  

The end.  

Oh, except to say that I’ve pondered this notion that everyone around the world believes that Americans are so “go-go-go” busy and I believe that, yes, it’s true that we are a bit restless and on the move to accomplish our daily tasks but you know what?  It’s so eeeeeasy!  You would be all “go-go-go,” too, if everything were so straight-forward and precise.  If you could accomplish half the day’s tasks via email or phone rather than random drop-ins at strange offices with non-existent lines (ahem, “queues,” I mean).  And if it weren’t so deathly hot that sweat was dripping from your sternum over your bellybutton while merely standing in place, in the shade, for your bus.  And if you could zip from point A to B in your car through orderly traffic.  And if you had numerical addresses which your GPS could identify exactly.  Just sayin’.  

A Beautiful Day for a Neighbor

Today I did a miraculous thing.  I went for a walk around my neighborhood.  I have been here for almost five months and it is the first time that I went for an aimless walk.  In fact, I had never turned right from my driveway before...only left, toward the main road and bus stop.  It's not that I've not had time to do so.  I can't give a good explanation as to why I haven't explored like this before.  I think it's because most days are exhausting in various ways (confusing, hot/sticky, overwhelming, futile, etc.) so by the time I get home, I just want to be a bit of a shut-in.  I'm not proud of that, but I guess it's how I process or maintain some sort of balance.  Or something.  But I wish I had done this much earlier.  I realized that walking through my residential area is an incredible pick-me-up.  It was like Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood, or some damn thing.  Women and children saying hello, smiles around every corner, people working, children playing & inquiring about my name and other curiosities, toothless women asking me questions in a language I don't know, then settling for an exchange of smiles.  I feel a bit foolish that this was my debut to the neighborhood, but I'll try not to be too hard on myself.  I get it.  Sometimes I'm tired and inviting further interaction than necessary can be more tiring.  

But let me share with you a really sweet interaction I have experienced numerous times, which occurred yet again today.  It goes like this: 

A group of 3 or more school girls turns a corner, walking toward me, chatting and laughing cutely, until they spot me.  Then, in Malayalam, one informs the others of my presence and all of their spines stiffen and their eyes shift down to the ground, occasionally darting up to meet mine as they attempt to contain tiny smiles until I say hello.  Then they bust out into giant grins and respond with gasping hellos as if they had been holding their breath too long.  It's so damn adorable.  

More Idukki Photos

Just sharing more beauty that is the high ranges of the Western Ghats in Kerala:

PS - If mice are this cute, then I think it was real-life and not a dream the other night (just a photo from the Internet):

Cardamom Plantation

Tiji and I were invited by one of the Zero-Budget Spiritual Farming coordinators, Robin, to visit his cardamom plantation.  He is beginning to implement some Zero-Budget concepts and hopes to continue the conversion.  It was a lovely trek through the plantation on a cool, crisp, mountain morning and I enjoyed meeting the harvest workers and later, Robin's dear family for breakfast in their home.  Robin is a Rotarian, incidentally!  Here are photos: