Hey everyone
I have not yet gotten my blog up to date, making this post seem a little counterproductive, but I felt like I should share one of the more special experiences that I've had since I arrived in India that justh appened to me literally an hour ago. I'm sure this type of thing has happened during other abroad experience over the last 20 (almost 21 *yikes*) years of my life, but only noticed how incredible it was for the first time today. If any of you have read Paolo Coelho, this is a similar situation to one of his short stories that I read the other day (which is why it was really ironic that this happened; maybe the universe is sending me a sign).
It was 12:00 pm; the Indian sun was at its apex, but luckily it hadn't reached the hottest part of the day yet. I was with my interpreter Senthil on his two wheeler motorbike, running errands for my Independent Study project on land purchases due to rapid urbanization and its effects on farmers' livelihoods. We had just come from visiting a nearby school that had been built on land bought from a farmer that I had talked to the day before. As we took the turn out of the school, I noticed the back wheel of our motorbike was dragging a little too much, and so did Senthil. He muttered the Tamil curse word "chit" (that can mean, great, damn it, fuck, shit, depending on your vocabulary) and said that we needed to find the nearest tire valla (tire vendor). Finding a tire valla, however, was to be a little harder than initially thought-- we were currently 20 kms from the outskirts of Madurai; all we saw were a few tea stalls and a group of men repairing and repainting three massive dump trucks to be used for some type of life job in the future. My interpreter stopped near the men with the dump trucks, told them in Tamil what the problem was, and the men wagged their head back and forth (the S. Indian version of a nod), pointed in the direction of the nearest tire vendor, and Senthil ran off to find a tire seller.
So there I sat with five Indian men dressed in lungis (a large cloth used as a type of manskirt-- decorated with ornate designs-- usually this cloth denotes that these men are of the working class) for the next 30 minutes or so in the shade of a giant tamarind tree. One of the men approached me and asked me what I was doing here. I told him I was a student in America studying in Madurai for the semester. He nodded and then asked me how I liked India. I said that I loved it; especially the food. He laughed. I asked him what he did for a living. He told me he drove trucks and got them ready to drive, which is what he and the others were doing now. He asked my age. I'm 20 I said. I'm 23 he said. We smiled at each other, a similar generational happiness, at our conversation. Two kids normally separated by half a world meeting for the first time.
Then I realized something I hadn't really noticed while I was talking to him: he had been speaking Tamil the whole time, and I had been responding in English, and yet we had little to no difficulty understanding what we were saying. The miracle of human communication had connected two people that couldn't be more different of background: I found out later that he had lived in a village his whole life; on the other hand, I had been to India twice in my life, and had been moving around ever since I can remember (rarely staying in one city or town for more than a year). It was then that I realized how special we all are, and how easy it is to understand if we honestly tried to do so. When we share our lives, we want people to listen; we just need a person with adjustable ears: one that can understand and listen with perfect clarity at all experiential sound wave levels. If we wanted to truly understand our needs, experiences, grievences, and knowledge, we could do so if we had the urge to hear the other talk without bound about his/her life. How simple conflicts would be if the egoism of our own interests would never block our ears!
My friends and family pride themselves on calling me a space cadet that can zone out with just a moment's notice, and totally miss what people say or tell me. From now on, I'm gonna seek to change that. I've heard from people that you gain the best friends in life if you are able to listen as well as you talk. Since I don't have the talking thing down very well (as most people know, I'm an awkward talker, especially after being in Madurai and losing about half of my working english vocabulary due to under-exposure), I think I'm gonna try and use my ears to communicate more often.
Hasan
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
India #7: A Brief Tour Finish
I should probably be finishing up my interview questions that I have in two hours with the father of my translator who happened to fit exactly into my "sample interviewees" (details of my Independent Study project hopefully at the bottom).
One thing I did forget to mention in my last update: my boat ride (the first of many) in the Periyar Wildlife Preserve. It was a small boat, covered by a metal roof, all decked out in the a darkish green (or was it orange...). Anyway, there was a huge watering hole in the reserve where many animals went to, you know, water themselves. It was about 3 hours long, and within those three hours, we saw a large family of boars, sambar deers (I did ask if these animals were involved in the production of a South Indian gravy sambar... Sadly no), elephants, water buffaloes, and storks either drinking or bathing themselves in water/dirt to keep cool in the 100 degree weather. I got some great pics of these animals. Sadly I have yet to post them...
Quick What/where/when/etc.
What: 2nd "educational" tour
Where: Kerela
Who: Me, and 15 other rowdy Americans
Why: *insert my new mantra* why NOT?
How: Van, House Boat, Ferries, Autos, Massive Buses with huge names on the top of them (to be explained), and my own two feet.
First stop: 8:00 AM in Kottayam:
Kottayam, as I said before, is essentially a big bulk of people pushed into a city-like setting. It had a very Madurai-like feel, but a very Bangalore-like population: not many people were decked out in their Sunday Saris (or salwars for that matter). Anyways, we left Kottayam at 8:00 AM on our way to a small suburb nearby where we would board one of the most epic boats I've ever seen. After an hour of rim rattling van, we found ourselves barging (no pun intended) onto what looked to be a mix between an enormous one story Gondola (picture Italian gondola and then enlarge the image about 20 times and you get this boat) and a thatched longhouse seen in American Indian "recreated reservations" in New England. I have pics of this, but they are not really... accessible, like almost all of my other pics (if you haven't noticed, there's a trend). The boat had the following amenities: two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen (with a TV?! and a GEORGE FORMAN STOVE?!), a large "lounge area" that overlooked the front of the boat, and a kitchen where 3 Indians sat preparing coffee, coconuts, tea, and fried bananas (sailors of the high seas of Kerela's backwaters). We spent around 4 hours on this boat, puttering slowly from the river we started on, across a pretty large lake, and into another random river. All the while, palm, coconut and banana trees lined the sides of the lake, giving it a more Florida feel, minus the immense amount of noise from drivers and beach clubs. It was really relaxing: I read 70 pages of the Lemon Tree, put it down cause I got frustrated at the P-I situation (again), then went on the front deck to sit in the scalding 90 degree weather (by now it feels like a nice 70 to me. To emphasize, the other day it was cloudy, and the weather was extremely cool-- I thought it was around 60 degrees. What weather.com told me, however, made me realize how brainwashed my body's weather complex had become: it was 85.21 degrees fareinheit. I laughed. For three straight minutes. The upcoming Maine winter is going to OWN me). It was relaxing, and all the while I said hello to locals passing on boats, small gondolas, or farming on the side of the lake.
After the boat ride, we arrived in a town around 2 hours outside of Cochin, our eventual destination. We once again filed into the van, and hit the most straight roads (each of our stomachs said a mini thank god) I've seen since visiting Ohio on my College tour junior year. We arrived in Cochin at around 5 pm, after passing what seemed to be at least five pizza huts (and a subway?!). Cochin is a very interesting place. It is set about 3/4 of the way down the Western coast of India, and takes up an enormous amount of room. Contrary to popular belief, the city got more and more spread out as you approached the sea. The more inland you got, the more like Manhattan it got. The more towards the sea, the more fishing colonies, deceivingly beautiful beaches, and quaint little communities emerged. We pulled into the hotel, me and a couple of guys went to scan the area (and to look for an extra memory card for my camera), checked out the prices at Pizza Hut (and found a Domino's int he process), and returned to the hotel. That night we ate the most inedible meal I have experienced since my mom tried so valiantly to convince me that eggplant was a great invention in 7th grade. The worst part: it costed 180 rupees. The even WORSE part: my stomach hated the concept of this hotel's meal, and straightway gave me one of the worst bouts of stomach pains/gas/diarhea/burps/throw up sensations/nausea I've ever experience at the same time. What a knock out combo. Needless to say, I ordered Domino's and a bottle of Kingfisher (local beer, well relatively local-- it's made in Bangalore) the next night.
The next day we woke up and took, take a guess, a boat tour of Cochin. We first stopped at Fort Cochin to see the oldest church in Kerela, built by the Portuguese right after Da Gama's historic journey from Portugal, around Cape Town in S. Africa, and to straight on to Cochin. Da Gama was buried in the church back then, and his tomb rests in the church. It wasn't heavily decorated, though the caretakers said it was still used by the locals for prayers.
We got back onto the boat and then went to the best part of our tour in Kerela (for me anyway). Get ready to laugh. We stepped off the boat, and the first sign I saw said the following:
One thing I did forget to mention in my last update: my boat ride (the first of many) in the Periyar Wildlife Preserve. It was a small boat, covered by a metal roof, all decked out in the a darkish green (or was it orange...). Anyway, there was a huge watering hole in the reserve where many animals went to, you know, water themselves. It was about 3 hours long, and within those three hours, we saw a large family of boars, sambar deers (I did ask if these animals were involved in the production of a South Indian gravy sambar... Sadly no), elephants, water buffaloes, and storks either drinking or bathing themselves in water/dirt to keep cool in the 100 degree weather. I got some great pics of these animals. Sadly I have yet to post them...
Quick What/where/when/etc.
What: 2nd "educational" tour
Where: Kerela
Who: Me, and 15 other rowdy Americans
Why: *insert my new mantra* why NOT?
How: Van, House Boat, Ferries, Autos, Massive Buses with huge names on the top of them (to be explained), and my own two feet.
First stop: 8:00 AM in Kottayam:
Kottayam, as I said before, is essentially a big bulk of people pushed into a city-like setting. It had a very Madurai-like feel, but a very Bangalore-like population: not many people were decked out in their Sunday Saris (or salwars for that matter). Anyways, we left Kottayam at 8:00 AM on our way to a small suburb nearby where we would board one of the most epic boats I've ever seen. After an hour of rim rattling van, we found ourselves barging (no pun intended) onto what looked to be a mix between an enormous one story Gondola (picture Italian gondola and then enlarge the image about 20 times and you get this boat) and a thatched longhouse seen in American Indian "recreated reservations" in New England. I have pics of this, but they are not really... accessible, like almost all of my other pics (if you haven't noticed, there's a trend). The boat had the following amenities: two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen (with a TV?! and a GEORGE FORMAN STOVE?!), a large "lounge area" that overlooked the front of the boat, and a kitchen where 3 Indians sat preparing coffee, coconuts, tea, and fried bananas (sailors of the high seas of Kerela's backwaters). We spent around 4 hours on this boat, puttering slowly from the river we started on, across a pretty large lake, and into another random river. All the while, palm, coconut and banana trees lined the sides of the lake, giving it a more Florida feel, minus the immense amount of noise from drivers and beach clubs. It was really relaxing: I read 70 pages of the Lemon Tree, put it down cause I got frustrated at the P-I situation (again), then went on the front deck to sit in the scalding 90 degree weather (by now it feels like a nice 70 to me. To emphasize, the other day it was cloudy, and the weather was extremely cool-- I thought it was around 60 degrees. What weather.com told me, however, made me realize how brainwashed my body's weather complex had become: it was 85.21 degrees fareinheit. I laughed. For three straight minutes. The upcoming Maine winter is going to OWN me). It was relaxing, and all the while I said hello to locals passing on boats, small gondolas, or farming on the side of the lake.
After the boat ride, we arrived in a town around 2 hours outside of Cochin, our eventual destination. We once again filed into the van, and hit the most straight roads (each of our stomachs said a mini thank god) I've seen since visiting Ohio on my College tour junior year. We arrived in Cochin at around 5 pm, after passing what seemed to be at least five pizza huts (and a subway?!). Cochin is a very interesting place. It is set about 3/4 of the way down the Western coast of India, and takes up an enormous amount of room. Contrary to popular belief, the city got more and more spread out as you approached the sea. The more inland you got, the more like Manhattan it got. The more towards the sea, the more fishing colonies, deceivingly beautiful beaches, and quaint little communities emerged. We pulled into the hotel, me and a couple of guys went to scan the area (and to look for an extra memory card for my camera), checked out the prices at Pizza Hut (and found a Domino's int he process), and returned to the hotel. That night we ate the most inedible meal I have experienced since my mom tried so valiantly to convince me that eggplant was a great invention in 7th grade. The worst part: it costed 180 rupees. The even WORSE part: my stomach hated the concept of this hotel's meal, and straightway gave me one of the worst bouts of stomach pains/gas/diarhea/burps/throw up sensations/nausea I've ever experience at the same time. What a knock out combo. Needless to say, I ordered Domino's and a bottle of Kingfisher (local beer, well relatively local-- it's made in Bangalore) the next night.
The next day we woke up and took, take a guess, a boat tour of Cochin. We first stopped at Fort Cochin to see the oldest church in Kerela, built by the Portuguese right after Da Gama's historic journey from Portugal, around Cape Town in S. Africa, and to straight on to Cochin. Da Gama was buried in the church back then, and his tomb rests in the church. It wasn't heavily decorated, though the caretakers said it was still used by the locals for prayers.
We got back onto the boat and then went to the best part of our tour in Kerela (for me anyway). Get ready to laugh. We stepped off the boat, and the first sign I saw said the following:
JEW TOWN
Seeing such a blatant name implying Jews were here was quite humorous-- it was like naming the Bronx The Hasid Quarter. Directly under it says "Ethnic Passage", which I thought to be a little bizarre, given that Jews are not an ethnicity... (I also saw a "Jew Town" sign perched directly on top of a "God's own Country" sign... irony?). Cochin, remarks a sign outside of the old sephardi synagogue there, houses currently around 95 Jews total, yet only 10 family practice on a daily basis. News to me. Jew Town was pretty awesome. There were Hebrew words perched all over the place, and the town was set up as a huge circle of cobble-stone roads lined by handicraft, textile, and souvenir shops (and a memory card stall, at which I still didn't freaking find a memory card. Stay tuned for my camera solution). At the end of one of the roads stood the sephardi synagogue, dating back around 400 years as well. I wasn't able to take a picture of the synagogue, because the caretakers disowned anyone who did. Yet they still took 10 rupees from all visitors (sigh... Jews and their rules). For those with a background in Synagogue architecture, picture a sephardi style synagogue (podium in the middle) facing steps that led up to a golden ark. Around the podium were literally no chairs-- benches lined the walls surrounding the podium, but the caretaker said that everyone worshipping there sat on the floor to pray. He also said that there were only 10 practicing families still here, and that men primarily led the service, though they have started teaching women and children (post-b-mitzvah of course) the services so the men "don't get too bogged down" in work (sounded like they were quasi-orthodox). I saw a sign saying "Haval Al Azman", and it brought me back to the days I spent in Israel on a bus when our Hebrew teacher Racheli would have us do this progression: (How do you say good?! Tov!, after Tov? Tov Meod, Tov Meod, Metzuyan, Metzuyan, Haval Al Azman!)... It was a good time. I almost bought a hippie shirt, but instead bought the book that changed my life: The Zahir by Paolo Coelho. Everyone go out and buy it. After reading it, you will never have a bad day. Ever.
Post-Jew town, we went to a nearby cafe. Ate great food, drank real iced tea, and only costed us 100 rupees. What a great meal.
Afterward we went to the waterfront, read for a time, then went back to a cultural arts exhibition. There we saw traditional Kerela fighting/martial arts, traditional dancing, and ACTING THROUGH DANCE (which was INCREDIBLE. This style of dance incorporated traditional dance with facial expressions that would blow your mind. The actor uses all parts of his face to portray his feelings: he scrunches up and down the neck, moves the eye brows up and down at a rapid pace, has different eye movements/shapes for each feeling, and on top of that, uses his body to fill up the stage. It truly was remarkable. I can't explain it well, but I tried to do it after I saw it. I ended up on the floor, with three Indian kids and 15 Americans laughing at me. Sigh, guess my future in theater was never meant to be).
We went back to the hotel, ordered pizza and beer, as I said before, and watched Anoop become the 13th on American Idol. Nothing special.
Next day: gondola tour down a side water outside of Cochin. We took mini house boats (this time, about the size of a real Gondola) with men gondolaing behind us with huge bamboo sticks. I tried steering the boat. It was freaking hard. Saw some nice views like the rest of our boat tours, and then headed back.
Some of us went back to the same cafe we had gone to the day before, this time eating potato soup, chicken salad, and chips instead of carrot soup, grilled cheese, and sprout salad. There was no difference: it was still delicious.
Then, an epic journey. We crossed from Fort Cochin to nearby Vesper Island for a mere 2 rupees on a ferry, took the bus 26 kilometers to "Cherai" and walked to the beach. For those of you who have been fortunate enough to have visited beaches in North or South Carolina (not the Myrtle Beach ones, like the ones out of the way like Sunset Island), this beach was EXACTLY like that, only loaded with a bunch of Indian men that did backflips and cartwheels into waves. It was incredible. We got there at about 4 pm, when the sun was low enough such that it was around 80 degrees (or a comfy 60 degrees for all of those back in Maine, who wish it would stop snowing). The sand squeeked beneath your feet; the water was warm to the touch (but really salty for ocean water); the light was a bright orange for our time there. This was the refreshing beauty I was talking about. It rekindled that light in the back of our heads that is reborn when we see beauty, in any form, in the world around us. On top of it, I experienced my first sunset over the ocean. When it had become too dark to see the ocean, we took two autos the 26 miles back to the ferry and then went all the way back to the hotel, each of us feeling more refreshed than even Hampi. As I said before, Kerela was refreshing. Hampi still remains my favorite place in the world (directly beside the Israeli Desert).
We then took a night train all the way back to Madurai. I was able to get a whole 8 hours of sleep, despite the presence of five snorers in my car (must have been the ocean). Tour ended, and the IS period began, and here I am. I have much more to update, such as my IS project, why it hasn't worked yet, and above all, Pondicherry (which was very very anticlimactic... though I think it's cause I only saw one side of the city the whole three days I was there), but I really must do those interview questions. I meet the interpreter in an hour to go over them and go over my expectations (cause he is a first timer, and about as nervous as I am) for the interview, despite the fact that I'm interviewing his father (story of why I'm doing that will probably come tomorrow when I'm back from my interpreter's village). To all Colbians: hang in there, the snow will melt and so will your work... figuratively. To everyone else: until next time.
Love and Miss you all, and I STILL wish every one of you were here with me.
Hasan Bhatti, "The Most Likely to Make a map of Madurai before I leave for the US" (surprisingly I got the award for "directional ability"... didn't expect that one)
Post-Jew town, we went to a nearby cafe. Ate great food, drank real iced tea, and only costed us 100 rupees. What a great meal.
Afterward we went to the waterfront, read for a time, then went back to a cultural arts exhibition. There we saw traditional Kerela fighting/martial arts, traditional dancing, and ACTING THROUGH DANCE (which was INCREDIBLE. This style of dance incorporated traditional dance with facial expressions that would blow your mind. The actor uses all parts of his face to portray his feelings: he scrunches up and down the neck, moves the eye brows up and down at a rapid pace, has different eye movements/shapes for each feeling, and on top of that, uses his body to fill up the stage. It truly was remarkable. I can't explain it well, but I tried to do it after I saw it. I ended up on the floor, with three Indian kids and 15 Americans laughing at me. Sigh, guess my future in theater was never meant to be).
We went back to the hotel, ordered pizza and beer, as I said before, and watched Anoop become the 13th on American Idol. Nothing special.
Next day: gondola tour down a side water outside of Cochin. We took mini house boats (this time, about the size of a real Gondola) with men gondolaing behind us with huge bamboo sticks. I tried steering the boat. It was freaking hard. Saw some nice views like the rest of our boat tours, and then headed back.
Some of us went back to the same cafe we had gone to the day before, this time eating potato soup, chicken salad, and chips instead of carrot soup, grilled cheese, and sprout salad. There was no difference: it was still delicious.
Then, an epic journey. We crossed from Fort Cochin to nearby Vesper Island for a mere 2 rupees on a ferry, took the bus 26 kilometers to "Cherai" and walked to the beach. For those of you who have been fortunate enough to have visited beaches in North or South Carolina (not the Myrtle Beach ones, like the ones out of the way like Sunset Island), this beach was EXACTLY like that, only loaded with a bunch of Indian men that did backflips and cartwheels into waves. It was incredible. We got there at about 4 pm, when the sun was low enough such that it was around 80 degrees (or a comfy 60 degrees for all of those back in Maine, who wish it would stop snowing). The sand squeeked beneath your feet; the water was warm to the touch (but really salty for ocean water); the light was a bright orange for our time there. This was the refreshing beauty I was talking about. It rekindled that light in the back of our heads that is reborn when we see beauty, in any form, in the world around us. On top of it, I experienced my first sunset over the ocean. When it had become too dark to see the ocean, we took two autos the 26 miles back to the ferry and then went all the way back to the hotel, each of us feeling more refreshed than even Hampi. As I said before, Kerela was refreshing. Hampi still remains my favorite place in the world (directly beside the Israeli Desert).
We then took a night train all the way back to Madurai. I was able to get a whole 8 hours of sleep, despite the presence of five snorers in my car (must have been the ocean). Tour ended, and the IS period began, and here I am. I have much more to update, such as my IS project, why it hasn't worked yet, and above all, Pondicherry (which was very very anticlimactic... though I think it's cause I only saw one side of the city the whole three days I was there), but I really must do those interview questions. I meet the interpreter in an hour to go over them and go over my expectations (cause he is a first timer, and about as nervous as I am) for the interview, despite the fact that I'm interviewing his father (story of why I'm doing that will probably come tomorrow when I'm back from my interpreter's village). To all Colbians: hang in there, the snow will melt and so will your work... figuratively. To everyone else: until next time.
Love and Miss you all, and I STILL wish every one of you were here with me.
Hasan Bhatti, "The Most Likely to Make a map of Madurai before I leave for the US" (surprisingly I got the award for "directional ability"... didn't expect that one)
Monday, March 9, 2009
India #6 (for real): Finals and 1/2 of Kerela
Hello everyone,
A lot has happened since I last wrote. I meant to get to an update before I left, but unfortunately I didn't do that well planning time for it... I guess I'll start with finals week and try to get to today, but we'll see how that goes.
I think I'll outline my week before tour (finals week) to get in the "spirit" of the week (which was characterized by me doing an obscene amount of homework within an incredibly small amount of time-- 4 essays and one test in a five day period):
I. Coffee Addiction Update
II. Hasan Bhatti, contact for The Guinness book of World Records?!
III. Shifting Houses
IV. The Miracle of the Butt Gun (yes, I do mean two t's)
As you all well know, I'm currently fighting my addiction to coffee. So far, it is not going so well. My host mother has gotten in the habit of giving me coffee in the morning, and my tongue has gotten used to the warm milk drink with a sliver of caffeine that I find it hard to ask for anything else when I wake up. The good news: I no longer drink coffee when I get back from SITA. The bad news: I usually still have two "tea times" at SITA... during both of which my hands grow a mind of their own, and the next thing I know, I'm sitting there with an empty mug with coffee dregs at the bottom. That's probably a bit of an exaggeration, but it has become habit to get coffee at these tea times. In all, I'm failing at laying off the caffeine.
Me? A Guinness book of world records contact? who knew? Well, let me tell you how I "earned" that title. It was Saturday, and I still had to finish my final paper for Environmental Issues. The SITA building had just closed for the day, and I was walking into my internet cafe of choice to finish it on a word document (there are three of them really close to SITA. The one that I like has very very nice people who talk to you and introduce you to family friends. The connection isn't great, and the other two are much faster, but I like the atmosphere, so I keep going back). As I walk in, I say hi to the two attendants, a married couple (arranged of course), who normally make small talk with me as I'm checking facebook or updating my fantasy basketball league (which I'm still getting pwned in). This time, I find an older gentleman with a huge manila folder filled with papers and documents talking to the woman. The woman introduces him as her uncle (which is another way of saying a good friend... that happens a lot here). I say "vannakam," (what you say when you first meet someone) bowing my head to show respect, and he does the same. Then, he tells me to sit down and that he has something to tell me. I figures, why not-- I have 8 hrs to write 3 pages of my EI paper. So I sit down. Well, I had no idea what I was getting into-- what I thought would be a friendly chat about why I was here or finding out what he does around Madurai turned out to be the most amusing generalization about Americans that I had heard while being here. As soon as I sat down, he started to explain that his nephew, a boy of 4 years old, was a special human being. I asked why. He told me that a year ago, March 10, 2008, his nephew of 4 years had, with a huge map of the world in front of him, named every single country in the world in a mere minute and forty nine seconds (which is incredible by any standard). How was this possible, I asked. Apparently the kid had an exceptional photographic memory, where he could jsut look at a map or a document and then memorize everything on it, much like Danny the Hasid in The Chosen. He then opened the folder he was carrying, and began to show me countless documents that confirmed this feat: Tamil newspaper articles, notary signatures of those that had experienced the feat, a dvd of his nephew doing the deed, editorials praising the Indian educational system, his nephew's report card at the best high school in Madurai (the report card had straight 100s in every single category). The evidence was beyond what it needed to be: I believed him, and I would be surprised if no one else did. As I continued to marvel at this accomplishment, I was still wondering why he was telling me all this-- so I asked him. This was his response: well you're American, and I've been trying to contact the Guinness book of world records for the past year; maybe you could send in a good word for me and my nephew... Well that was a little shocking. Apparently, in his mind, the fact that I was wearing a Manny Ramirez Red Sox shirt, had a modern looking REI backpack, and a water bottle holder (three things that obviously set me apart as an American) meant that I was best friends with the entire Guinness "judging staff". I told him that I had read the book, but had no clue how to do this-- I was just as in the dark as he was. He was a little disappointed but didn't let up. He then asked me to circulate this story to my friends within SITA, as if this accomplishment would somehow be more visible to Guinness if a bunch of Americans were astonished and impressed at such a feat. I felt sorry for the guy, but the whole scene was just too hard to not laugh: Me sitting there with a very shocked, resigned, impressed, and altogether incredulous face, and him sitting there almost begging me to give him my "infinite" wisdom of the world of entering a world record. I told him I would do my best (email them, look on the website... you know, things that I could actually do), but I wouldn't promise him anything... and that was that. He said thank you for listening and that he'd probably be back at a later date and that he hoped I could get in touch with them.
So, let's add yet another definition to the image of Americans in their minds in addition to the following (not a complete list; I just can't remember them all): We all know and love Obama! (which people shout to me once they know I'm from America-- one time I was riding in my cycle with a bunch of other SITA kids and an auto driver going the opposite direction leaned out the side of the rickshaw and yelled in a very long, drawn out, almost mockingly dramatic manner: OOOOOBBBAAAAAMAAAAAAA!!!! Priceless), that we want to buy postcards when we wont buy the weird things that street vendors sell on the streets (such as a "mint one of a kind mini chess board for only 100 rupees..." yeah right), that we can be ripped off easily, and that we all know the process of entering the Guinness book of world records.
The same day, Saturday, I experience a pretty large change in my home situation, literally. Apparently, the house that I had lived in for the last few months had been a "rented house" to stay in while the family's real house was being built only 100 meters away (the new house was in the same compound and was essentially the same exact house in a different location). That Saturday, the house was ready, and my family moved everything into that house. So when I got back to my "old" house after finishing my EI paper, my room was an empty rectangle, save the tornado of papers and books that I sloshed around while I was doing my finals. Somewhere in the confusion of moving all my stuff, I lost my purple flashlight (I know mom... I'm sad too)... oh well. Our new house is very similar to the old one architecturally-- except this time, I was blessed by the gods above by one of the best devices in the world.
The Butt Gun. Yes, it is exactly what it sounds like: a gun for the butt. Before I had told you guys about the process of going to the bathroom, and how Indian sewer systems were not equipped to process toilet paper (and that you had to use water to clean your... ahem, business). Ordinarily you just use a small cup of water, your left hand (sometimes referred to as your "poo hand" by SITA students), and a ton of soap. Not so with the butt gun. For those that wash dishes, picture the "sprayer" that was typically found next to faucets during childhood (I haven't seen them recently-- essentially they are like a hose attachment with a little lever in the back to release the water). That's what the butt gun is, except it spurts the water out with much more force (and for good reason). If you put two and two together, you'll understand why I'm pretty excited about this piece of machinery-- cause I'm not gonna go that deep into detail (mainly because some of you are munching on buff chick calzones currently). Suffice it to say that it is quite a refreshing experience.
K, now to tour. We went to the neighboring state of Kerela, described as the "most beautiful state in India." I still maintain Hampi as the most beautiful place I know in India, but they certainly were telling the truth; Kerela was very very beautiful. To me, the two places represent two different types of beauty that our earth possesses. Hampi's beauty slaps you in the face; it is a lot more explicitly different, and therefore the beauty is a lot more surprising and yet rejuvenating-- it's a totally different world that not many people have ever experienced before, and as such it is much more of a surprising and astonishing type of beauty. Kerela's is a bit different. I would characterize Kerela as a whole as more of a refreshing beauty; more like "oh god, there are still places like you left in the world." Kerela contained both familiar types of beauty and unprecedented ones as well: rolling mountains of greenery (and tropical plants), a long and beautiful coastline, horizons upon horizons of lush green agriculture (including huge tea plantations upon the mountains in S. India-- pics to come don't worry). Kerela was a nice respite from massive amounts of work to the IS period.
We set off the Sunday after my Guinness fiasco in vans due west for the town of Thekkedy (located right along the boundary between the two most southern states in India: Tamil Nadu, where Madurai is, and Kerela). On the way to Thekkedy, we took the winding roads up the Western Ghats, my new favorite mountain range. Our van driver was a little nuts, going a little too fast around the bends, that made most of us pretty sick by the time we got off. Thankfully we stopped in a small town to have tea time to recenter ourselves (at which I, yet again, got coffee... I really am not doing too good with this whole anti-caffeine campaign). We reached Thekkedy, and straightway went to a spice plantation. Thekkedy is well known for three things: tea production, spice production, and the Periyar Tiger Wildlife Preserve (all of which we visited). We got a mini tour of the spice plantation, got to ride an elephant (which was definitely as cool as I imagined, although it wasn't as scary as I remember it was when I was 8... I can't remember where we were, but I do remember taking an elephant up a pretty large hill with a cliff on one side and a solid rock wall on the other side... for those that haven't been on an elephant it swings side to side while you're on top, so half the time I was either thinking we would eat it down the mountain or get stuck on the rock wall... good times), and met a family of farmers who were drying coffee beans on large mats outside of their hut. There were two really really cute girls, one about 3 and one 5, that followed us around. I said hi to them and managed to snap a pic of them. Hopefully I'll get my act together and get them up at some point... that's a big if tho.
After the spice garden and our elephant ride, a group of us went to dinner at a nearby hotel (hotels here almost always have a restaurant associated with them). Bad idea. Three problems: A) too hot inside, B) the food blew, and C) no dessert. Epic fail. But it did spark a good ending: we got some ice cream downtown, the best I've had since Maple View Farms outside of Carrboro (usually the ice cream here tastes like whipped cream but has the consistency of butter... this time it was different, thankfully). When we got back from our delightful dessert, we experienced something peculiar back at the hotel. We were walking up the stairs when a hotel attendant with a smoking metal cylinder (yes think Christian priest going down the aisle with that smoking cylinder during a mass) filled with incense flailed the metal object around our halls. Quite a way to freshen up a hotel hallway, but man did it smell good (like jasmine flowers dipped in honey... mmmmm)
The next day, we arose at 6:00 AM to take a 3 hour "safari walk" in the Periyar Wildlife Preserve. It was a very nice day-- a comfortable 75 degrees-- and very bright. It was such a nice walk; the sun on your shoulders and the morning mist spraying your face. I often closed my eyes and listened to the sounds of everything going on around me. Such a nice difference from the hustle and bustle of Madurai.I have some pics of this setting as well; it was very beautiful and captured a lot of the sights that I often saw during my time in Kerela-- when I get them up I'll tell you guys so you can see what I mean. We saw lots of monkeys, some bison, a few elephants, and a ton of rare birds. No tiger (sadly), but we did see a tree that had been scratched up by one (that counts right?). An interesting thing about this ecotourist site: all the guides that worked there once were tiger poachers just 10 years before (and have contributed to the tiger's endangered state in India as a whole). Good planning on the preserve's part.
After the reserve, we were let loose on the town for the day. The town of Thekkedy was nothing special. It was just as tourist oriented as Hampi town was, with tons of stores devoted to silk outfits and small handicrafts that you could find almost everywhere (but that shop owners insisted were indigenous to Thekkedy only... that seems to be a common sales tactic in India). I had a good time just browsing the shops, talking to random Indians as I passed, and exploring the town with other SITA members. At night, we went to a very good restaurant to make up for the shittyness that was the night before.
The next day we went to a tea plantation in the morning, where most environmentalists would cringe. On our way there, the hills were absolutely covered in tea plants-- or large bushes about 3 feet tall. It was all very green and pretty, but any environmentalist would look at that situation and say: god that run off must be ridiculous. And they would be right. There were huge gulleys down the sides of these tea plants where rain from the wet season (From Sept to Dec) had torn the land straight apart. I have pics of this also. All in due time.
We got back to the hotel, and then left for Kottayam, a layover city for our journey to Cochin. This is the journey in which I fell in love with the Ghats. The views I saw on that bus ride were like none I've ever seen in the Whites or the Blue Ridges (for all you out west, spare your Sierra Nevada and Rocky nationalism. I'll get out there eventually). I was only able to take a few pictures cause my memory card (which only held 49 pics at the time) was running out of room, and I was on the side of the bus that was most often facing the mountain side, and not the huge valleys and peaks of other mountains in the distance (I got a new camera, thankfully, so this won't be a problem in the future-- this time I didn't get lost). I wish I could describe the views or show you epic pictures, but alas, it was not destined to be so. Stay tuned for the Himalayas!!!!
I think I'm gonna stop here. It's a nice mid-point, and I've been writing for about 2 hrs now... maybe I should really take a class in shortening my details and my points, cause honestly sometimes its just plain exhausting. Anyway, I'll update you on my current status. Right now I'm in the middle of my Independent Study period, during which I need to get a shitload of interviews and literature material to eventually form a 25 page paper about the effect of land purchases by multinational corporations and other groups interested in land ownership on farmers outside of Madurai (yep, that means I'll be spending most my time inside of a village!!!! SO EXCITED-- stay tuned for pics. They're gonna be sweet, guaranteed). This wont be hard and I know it-- I am really interested in the topic and I know that when I start, I won't be able to stop... it's just starting it all that is the problem...
Until tomorrow (when I'll write the rest of tour and update my current status). Love and miss you all, and I wish you were here to experience this country with me-- it's one of those countries that truly changes your life in ways that you can't even imagine. Keep being beautiful people :-)
Hasan
A lot has happened since I last wrote. I meant to get to an update before I left, but unfortunately I didn't do that well planning time for it... I guess I'll start with finals week and try to get to today, but we'll see how that goes.
I think I'll outline my week before tour (finals week) to get in the "spirit" of the week (which was characterized by me doing an obscene amount of homework within an incredibly small amount of time-- 4 essays and one test in a five day period):
I. Coffee Addiction Update
II. Hasan Bhatti, contact for The Guinness book of World Records?!
III. Shifting Houses
IV. The Miracle of the Butt Gun (yes, I do mean two t's)
As you all well know, I'm currently fighting my addiction to coffee. So far, it is not going so well. My host mother has gotten in the habit of giving me coffee in the morning, and my tongue has gotten used to the warm milk drink with a sliver of caffeine that I find it hard to ask for anything else when I wake up. The good news: I no longer drink coffee when I get back from SITA. The bad news: I usually still have two "tea times" at SITA... during both of which my hands grow a mind of their own, and the next thing I know, I'm sitting there with an empty mug with coffee dregs at the bottom. That's probably a bit of an exaggeration, but it has become habit to get coffee at these tea times. In all, I'm failing at laying off the caffeine.
Me? A Guinness book of world records contact? who knew? Well, let me tell you how I "earned" that title. It was Saturday, and I still had to finish my final paper for Environmental Issues. The SITA building had just closed for the day, and I was walking into my internet cafe of choice to finish it on a word document (there are three of them really close to SITA. The one that I like has very very nice people who talk to you and introduce you to family friends. The connection isn't great, and the other two are much faster, but I like the atmosphere, so I keep going back). As I walk in, I say hi to the two attendants, a married couple (arranged of course), who normally make small talk with me as I'm checking facebook or updating my fantasy basketball league (which I'm still getting pwned in). This time, I find an older gentleman with a huge manila folder filled with papers and documents talking to the woman. The woman introduces him as her uncle (which is another way of saying a good friend... that happens a lot here). I say "vannakam," (what you say when you first meet someone) bowing my head to show respect, and he does the same. Then, he tells me to sit down and that he has something to tell me. I figures, why not-- I have 8 hrs to write 3 pages of my EI paper. So I sit down. Well, I had no idea what I was getting into-- what I thought would be a friendly chat about why I was here or finding out what he does around Madurai turned out to be the most amusing generalization about Americans that I had heard while being here. As soon as I sat down, he started to explain that his nephew, a boy of 4 years old, was a special human being. I asked why. He told me that a year ago, March 10, 2008, his nephew of 4 years had, with a huge map of the world in front of him, named every single country in the world in a mere minute and forty nine seconds (which is incredible by any standard). How was this possible, I asked. Apparently the kid had an exceptional photographic memory, where he could jsut look at a map or a document and then memorize everything on it, much like Danny the Hasid in The Chosen. He then opened the folder he was carrying, and began to show me countless documents that confirmed this feat: Tamil newspaper articles, notary signatures of those that had experienced the feat, a dvd of his nephew doing the deed, editorials praising the Indian educational system, his nephew's report card at the best high school in Madurai (the report card had straight 100s in every single category). The evidence was beyond what it needed to be: I believed him, and I would be surprised if no one else did. As I continued to marvel at this accomplishment, I was still wondering why he was telling me all this-- so I asked him. This was his response: well you're American, and I've been trying to contact the Guinness book of world records for the past year; maybe you could send in a good word for me and my nephew... Well that was a little shocking. Apparently, in his mind, the fact that I was wearing a Manny Ramirez Red Sox shirt, had a modern looking REI backpack, and a water bottle holder (three things that obviously set me apart as an American) meant that I was best friends with the entire Guinness "judging staff". I told him that I had read the book, but had no clue how to do this-- I was just as in the dark as he was. He was a little disappointed but didn't let up. He then asked me to circulate this story to my friends within SITA, as if this accomplishment would somehow be more visible to Guinness if a bunch of Americans were astonished and impressed at such a feat. I felt sorry for the guy, but the whole scene was just too hard to not laugh: Me sitting there with a very shocked, resigned, impressed, and altogether incredulous face, and him sitting there almost begging me to give him my "infinite" wisdom of the world of entering a world record. I told him I would do my best (email them, look on the website... you know, things that I could actually do), but I wouldn't promise him anything... and that was that. He said thank you for listening and that he'd probably be back at a later date and that he hoped I could get in touch with them.
So, let's add yet another definition to the image of Americans in their minds in addition to the following (not a complete list; I just can't remember them all): We all know and love Obama! (which people shout to me once they know I'm from America-- one time I was riding in my cycle with a bunch of other SITA kids and an auto driver going the opposite direction leaned out the side of the rickshaw and yelled in a very long, drawn out, almost mockingly dramatic manner: OOOOOBBBAAAAAMAAAAAAA!!!! Priceless), that we want to buy postcards when we wont buy the weird things that street vendors sell on the streets (such as a "mint one of a kind mini chess board for only 100 rupees..." yeah right), that we can be ripped off easily, and that we all know the process of entering the Guinness book of world records.
The same day, Saturday, I experience a pretty large change in my home situation, literally. Apparently, the house that I had lived in for the last few months had been a "rented house" to stay in while the family's real house was being built only 100 meters away (the new house was in the same compound and was essentially the same exact house in a different location). That Saturday, the house was ready, and my family moved everything into that house. So when I got back to my "old" house after finishing my EI paper, my room was an empty rectangle, save the tornado of papers and books that I sloshed around while I was doing my finals. Somewhere in the confusion of moving all my stuff, I lost my purple flashlight (I know mom... I'm sad too)... oh well. Our new house is very similar to the old one architecturally-- except this time, I was blessed by the gods above by one of the best devices in the world.
The Butt Gun. Yes, it is exactly what it sounds like: a gun for the butt. Before I had told you guys about the process of going to the bathroom, and how Indian sewer systems were not equipped to process toilet paper (and that you had to use water to clean your... ahem, business). Ordinarily you just use a small cup of water, your left hand (sometimes referred to as your "poo hand" by SITA students), and a ton of soap. Not so with the butt gun. For those that wash dishes, picture the "sprayer" that was typically found next to faucets during childhood (I haven't seen them recently-- essentially they are like a hose attachment with a little lever in the back to release the water). That's what the butt gun is, except it spurts the water out with much more force (and for good reason). If you put two and two together, you'll understand why I'm pretty excited about this piece of machinery-- cause I'm not gonna go that deep into detail (mainly because some of you are munching on buff chick calzones currently). Suffice it to say that it is quite a refreshing experience.
K, now to tour. We went to the neighboring state of Kerela, described as the "most beautiful state in India." I still maintain Hampi as the most beautiful place I know in India, but they certainly were telling the truth; Kerela was very very beautiful. To me, the two places represent two different types of beauty that our earth possesses. Hampi's beauty slaps you in the face; it is a lot more explicitly different, and therefore the beauty is a lot more surprising and yet rejuvenating-- it's a totally different world that not many people have ever experienced before, and as such it is much more of a surprising and astonishing type of beauty. Kerela's is a bit different. I would characterize Kerela as a whole as more of a refreshing beauty; more like "oh god, there are still places like you left in the world." Kerela contained both familiar types of beauty and unprecedented ones as well: rolling mountains of greenery (and tropical plants), a long and beautiful coastline, horizons upon horizons of lush green agriculture (including huge tea plantations upon the mountains in S. India-- pics to come don't worry). Kerela was a nice respite from massive amounts of work to the IS period.
We set off the Sunday after my Guinness fiasco in vans due west for the town of Thekkedy (located right along the boundary between the two most southern states in India: Tamil Nadu, where Madurai is, and Kerela). On the way to Thekkedy, we took the winding roads up the Western Ghats, my new favorite mountain range. Our van driver was a little nuts, going a little too fast around the bends, that made most of us pretty sick by the time we got off. Thankfully we stopped in a small town to have tea time to recenter ourselves (at which I, yet again, got coffee... I really am not doing too good with this whole anti-caffeine campaign). We reached Thekkedy, and straightway went to a spice plantation. Thekkedy is well known for three things: tea production, spice production, and the Periyar Tiger Wildlife Preserve (all of which we visited). We got a mini tour of the spice plantation, got to ride an elephant (which was definitely as cool as I imagined, although it wasn't as scary as I remember it was when I was 8... I can't remember where we were, but I do remember taking an elephant up a pretty large hill with a cliff on one side and a solid rock wall on the other side... for those that haven't been on an elephant it swings side to side while you're on top, so half the time I was either thinking we would eat it down the mountain or get stuck on the rock wall... good times), and met a family of farmers who were drying coffee beans on large mats outside of their hut. There were two really really cute girls, one about 3 and one 5, that followed us around. I said hi to them and managed to snap a pic of them. Hopefully I'll get my act together and get them up at some point... that's a big if tho.
After the spice garden and our elephant ride, a group of us went to dinner at a nearby hotel (hotels here almost always have a restaurant associated with them). Bad idea. Three problems: A) too hot inside, B) the food blew, and C) no dessert. Epic fail. But it did spark a good ending: we got some ice cream downtown, the best I've had since Maple View Farms outside of Carrboro (usually the ice cream here tastes like whipped cream but has the consistency of butter... this time it was different, thankfully). When we got back from our delightful dessert, we experienced something peculiar back at the hotel. We were walking up the stairs when a hotel attendant with a smoking metal cylinder (yes think Christian priest going down the aisle with that smoking cylinder during a mass) filled with incense flailed the metal object around our halls. Quite a way to freshen up a hotel hallway, but man did it smell good (like jasmine flowers dipped in honey... mmmmm)
The next day, we arose at 6:00 AM to take a 3 hour "safari walk" in the Periyar Wildlife Preserve. It was a very nice day-- a comfortable 75 degrees-- and very bright. It was such a nice walk; the sun on your shoulders and the morning mist spraying your face. I often closed my eyes and listened to the sounds of everything going on around me. Such a nice difference from the hustle and bustle of Madurai.I have some pics of this setting as well; it was very beautiful and captured a lot of the sights that I often saw during my time in Kerela-- when I get them up I'll tell you guys so you can see what I mean. We saw lots of monkeys, some bison, a few elephants, and a ton of rare birds. No tiger (sadly), but we did see a tree that had been scratched up by one (that counts right?). An interesting thing about this ecotourist site: all the guides that worked there once were tiger poachers just 10 years before (and have contributed to the tiger's endangered state in India as a whole). Good planning on the preserve's part.
After the reserve, we were let loose on the town for the day. The town of Thekkedy was nothing special. It was just as tourist oriented as Hampi town was, with tons of stores devoted to silk outfits and small handicrafts that you could find almost everywhere (but that shop owners insisted were indigenous to Thekkedy only... that seems to be a common sales tactic in India). I had a good time just browsing the shops, talking to random Indians as I passed, and exploring the town with other SITA members. At night, we went to a very good restaurant to make up for the shittyness that was the night before.
The next day we went to a tea plantation in the morning, where most environmentalists would cringe. On our way there, the hills were absolutely covered in tea plants-- or large bushes about 3 feet tall. It was all very green and pretty, but any environmentalist would look at that situation and say: god that run off must be ridiculous. And they would be right. There were huge gulleys down the sides of these tea plants where rain from the wet season (From Sept to Dec) had torn the land straight apart. I have pics of this also. All in due time.
We got back to the hotel, and then left for Kottayam, a layover city for our journey to Cochin. This is the journey in which I fell in love with the Ghats. The views I saw on that bus ride were like none I've ever seen in the Whites or the Blue Ridges (for all you out west, spare your Sierra Nevada and Rocky nationalism. I'll get out there eventually). I was only able to take a few pictures cause my memory card (which only held 49 pics at the time) was running out of room, and I was on the side of the bus that was most often facing the mountain side, and not the huge valleys and peaks of other mountains in the distance (I got a new camera, thankfully, so this won't be a problem in the future-- this time I didn't get lost). I wish I could describe the views or show you epic pictures, but alas, it was not destined to be so. Stay tuned for the Himalayas!!!!
I think I'm gonna stop here. It's a nice mid-point, and I've been writing for about 2 hrs now... maybe I should really take a class in shortening my details and my points, cause honestly sometimes its just plain exhausting. Anyway, I'll update you on my current status. Right now I'm in the middle of my Independent Study period, during which I need to get a shitload of interviews and literature material to eventually form a 25 page paper about the effect of land purchases by multinational corporations and other groups interested in land ownership on farmers outside of Madurai (yep, that means I'll be spending most my time inside of a village!!!! SO EXCITED-- stay tuned for pics. They're gonna be sweet, guaranteed). This wont be hard and I know it-- I am really interested in the topic and I know that when I start, I won't be able to stop... it's just starting it all that is the problem...
Until tomorrow (when I'll write the rest of tour and update my current status). Love and miss you all, and I wish you were here to experience this country with me-- it's one of those countries that truly changes your life in ways that you can't even imagine. Keep being beautiful people :-)
Hasan
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