Carol Hummel's Adventures in Nepal & India 2010

Pani Bachao! Jaipur

2010-04-24T20:36:00.000-07:00

Rickshaw driver extraordinaire Lala was a wonderful asset to our Paani Bachao! project.... if you need a rickshaw driver you can depend on, call him at (91)9829458283 and say "Paani Bachao!"... you won't be disappointed!

Two artists from two countries with one cause: Pani Bachao! (Save Water!)

Anna (Macleod of Ireland) and I worked on our Pani Bachao! project yesterday and, I must say, it was a BIG success! After a bit of a tussle with the rickshaw drivers (attempting to get one to commit to 200rs --$4 -- for 4 hours as advertised instead of 250rs, we set off to hang posters and have water conversations in Jaipur. (The rickshaw driver -- Lala (nicknamed by some French travelers) -- turned out to be a WONDERFUL asset to our project and we recommend him HIGHLY.... if in Jaipur, call Lala at (91)9829458283... greet him with "Paani Bachao! and you won't be disappointed!)

First, second and third stops were at various water plants in the city. EVERYONE was extremely enthusiastic about Pani Bachao! (or maybe the fact that two blondes were doing it) and at each stop we drew large crowds. Our rickshaw driver got into the spirit immediately and served as a translator for the Hindu-speaking water officials.

One interesting point we discovered is that in the posh areas they have small straw huts manned (by children) who dole out drinks free of charge from a copper teapot situated in a small window in the hut to any and all passersby. In the poor areas, though, no such huts.

After three water plants we were a bit "official-ed" out and had our driver take us to a poor neighborhood to talk about water. He took us to a neighborhood of 5,000... a maze of interconnected mud huts along zigzagging alleyways... to talk to "the king" of the neighborhood (a 24-year-old resident whose main claim to fame is that he's traveled to quite a few countries -- France amongst them...and is now going to Japan is 8 days to perform music and sell his handmade puppets...300rs for a pair)

After we traversed the winding path deep into the bowels of the community (stopping often to chat with enthusiastic residents who wanted their photos taken) we arrived at his 2-room hut and we, along with a dozen or so children, crammed into the living room to talk about water. The kids instantly got into the spirit of Pani Bachao! as Anna handed out posters for them to hang in their houses. Our host told us about the problems the community faced getting enough water to function. Although the officials had told us that each person gets 1.5 liters of water per day (not a lot!! not enough!! for drinking, cooking and washing!!) he said the reality in his community is that the water is "turned on" each morning for 1 1/2 hours and the daily battle for water at the pumps begins. The people try to get their daily share but, we suspect, many fail during the short period of access.

Other interesting points: A lot of NGOs come to the neighborhood "to help" but, our host says, accomplish very little for the people and, he suspects, make loads of money for someone else.... not a big fan of the fair-weather do-gooders.

"The king" also called in some friends and treated us to a rousing Rajasthani water song. I gave friendship bracelets to our hosts and the kids and we purchased a puppet each (150rs each) as "thank you" to our host. (Apparently many in the community are involved in the production of Raj puppets as we saw people working on them throughout the neighborhood...very nice quality)

By the time our visit came to an end, Pani Bachao! was the cry of the neighborhood and the kids marched behind us with their posters chanting "Pani Bachao!"

Jaipur -- the Pink City

2010-04-23T20:36:00.000-07:00

We are in PARADISE! Jaipur, the Pink City, just 4-5 hours by train or bus from Delhi is a great place to escape the heat and pollution. After months of travel (staying in places ranging from hovels to very nice) we have lucked upon a beautiful hotel in Jaipur -- the Hotel Pearl Palace(www.hotelpearlpalace.com 0091-141-2373700), a budget hotel that is by no means budget except for the prices (staring at $560rs/night/double with "air coolers", hot water, beautiful decor)... the rooftop restaurant is a lush jungle of plants, sculpture (even the tables and chairs are works of wrought iron wonder) and artifacts. The food is reasonably priced (can eat a nice breakfast for $2 and dinner for $4-5) and delicious (we are addicted to the spinach -- saag).

The shopping here -- especially for silver and gems, textiles and rugs -- is renowned (although bargainers are tough.... cut their prices in half AT LEAST!!) Anna and I wandered the markets for hours and thought the vendors were much less pushy, the beggars much less obnoxious, and the merchandise much more abundant than in Delhi and other places.

We escaped to Jaipur after our plane flights were set back TWO WEEKS! by the volcano in Iceland. Although the flights were back to normal after 5 days or so, those of us who had been cancelled during the crisis were sent to the back of the line and not given flights until the 29th. There is some question as to reimbursement of flight costs (not to mention the extra costs involved in being stranded for a couple of weeks (although India is probably one of the least expensive places one could be stranded in!)

Delhi is experiencing its hottest April since the 1950s (just our luck!) with temperatures in the high 40s -- well over 100 degrees. Plus, the concrete roads and buildings, pollution and dust from the incredible amount of construction that's underway in preparation for October's Commonwealth Games makes it feel like a city disguised as a filthy oven. Pahar Ganj is undergoing a road widening project which involves tearing up the (already crowded) streets and ripping off the fronts of many of the buildings. Of course they don't bother to close the streets or businesses and tourists and locals pick their ways through the rubble and clouds of dust and debris falling from above...crazy!

Anna and I are going to do some Pani Bachao! (Save Water!) work here in Jaipur.... going to hire a rickshaw to take us on our self-directed tour of the city to check out the water situation (they are having water shortages... depending on tankers to supply 80% or so of the drinking water.. should be verrrry interesting...

Delhi -- it must be 125 degrees here!

2010-04-21T03:18:00.000-07:00

So Art Karavan Internationl has come to an end.... The final four "shows" weren't as spectacular as expected, but the last one at JNU University was nice.

The first one was supposed to be big deal but then we found out that not only were there TWO holidays on that day, but the students at the college were in exams and the campus was EMPTY... also the Prince of Saudia Arabia came to the college in the morning so we were banned from the campus .... Anna and I put up a good display of our Pani Bachao! (Save Water) posters, photographed them and then left... didn't go to day two "show" because we were working on the water project all day despite temperatures of around 110 degrees...hung loads of posters at Connaught Place (main shopping area), met a dentist who gave us a nice water interview, and hung more posters in the park.

The third "show" was a reception, but the final show was in a valid gallery at JNU run by an efficient woman. Anna and I did a nice installation and did a bunch of water conversations and songs with students and people at the opening. Many of the Art Karavaners did performance pieces. Only problem is that my plane was due to fly out that night but THE VOLCANO was threatening to cancel my flight to Belgium. So, I reluctantly said "good bye" to all my Karavan friends and we left early to find an internet to see what was going on with the flights.

Because of the volcano that blew in Iceland several days ago and the resulting ash plume blanketing Europe, all flights were cancelled to Europe, mine included. The next day Anna was due to fly out and, again, all flights cancelled. During the next couple days, we worked on the internet trying to find alternative flights. Anna's first available flight to Amsterdam on KLM is April 30th!! Jet Airways first opening for me to get into Belgium is 29th and I'm scheduled to leave Belgium on the 30th! Soooo, I decided to cancel the Belgium leg of my trip and fly straight home on the 29th/30th.

Not bad to extend our Indian adventure for a couple more weeks EXCEPT it's about 125 degrees in Delhi! We had fantasies of going to Orissa and the beach until we found that it's a TWO DAY train ride both ways, so not feasible to go.... So our new plan is to go to Jaipur (the Pink City) that we visited 5 years ago... still hot like there but at least it'll be a change of scene as is only 5 hours away... AND we're definitely going to get an air conditioned room this time!!

Went to see the to new Hindi "Ghost movie" --Phook2 -- today at the cinema .... our cute little 22-year-old waiter at the restaurant asked if we would go with him, luring us in with the air conditioning and BIG screen" and "comfortable chairs".. didn't realize that he was really asking ME (or Anna would have been a fine fill-in...not selective, I'm sure) to go on a DATE with him (hahhaha!) until he tried to pay for our tickets and then clung to my arm (during the scary parts, of course) and kept sneaking his head onto my shoulder during the movie. I gave him a bracelet later at dinner (he, now in his waiter guise) making him my BROTHER to establish our relationship (plus we're leaving in the morning for Jaipur).

Other than that, they've now brought in a large backhoe and completely ripped up the road we live on... simultaneously bunches of Indian laborers are chipping off the fronts of a bunch of buildings (using chisels and hammers).... it's like a war zone... brick falling all around, dust is unbelievable, conduit and waterlines ripped to pieces.) Most places would have closed off the entire street, but tourists and locals continue to climb through the rubble and go about their daily duties

On the way home last night I got clipped by a bicycle rickshaw... two small (but bloody) cuts on my arm... ripped off my new bracelet (but, thankfully, we ran back out on the street and found it)... keeping antibiotic cream on it, so should be OK

I've been wearing the same outfit for the past two weeks (my black skirt and tanktop)... only thing that I don't broil in... have to wash everything each night, but the clothes certainly do dry in a jiffy!! I'm sure we're scandalous to the locals (who are still wrapped in saris, scarves, jeans and longsleeved shirts) but WHO CARES!?!? It's HOT here!! ...never, felt anything like it...

Each day Anna and I have grand plans and then wilt within a couple hours on the street and retreat to our room or a bar to cool down... During the nights we each get up a couple times to stand under the shower for a bit to cool down enough to sleep...

Delhi -- an oven disguised as a ctiy

2010-04-21T03:09:00.000-07:00

Had a terrific time in Srinagar living on a houseboat for 3 days (fantastic, peaceful, fun, delicious food, got lots of work done on the Pani Bachao! (Save Water!) project (duh! we were living on the water!!) By the time we left we had the boatpeople hollering Pani Bachao! to us whenever our boat paddled by...good fun.

Now we are in 100+ degree Delhi ... we're staying in a hotel (Good Day Cottages $400 rs/double/night) ... group life is over for us...the group is staying in dorm rooms at a school... they came here via a 30-hour bus ride from Srinagar (we flew 1 1/2 hrs)... yesterday, we hung out with Sanjeev Sinha (painter who was in charge of the Buddah Enlightenment project we did in Bodhgaya)... he's doing another Bodhgaya show next January (one month site specific work... probably will have a nice group of artists)

He's leaving for Amsterdam, so we spent a day and a half with him talking, eating and drinking with he and his friends, relaxing in his air conditioned studio, and trying to sort out his visa which had not arrived.

The gallery the Karavan is in today in Delhi (supposedly the "good one") won't let anyone hang anything on its walls! Only can use string...we, of course, were going to "wallpaper" a BIG wall with our posters...so that ends that idea. However, we came up with an alternative installation on some outside walls and it looks great. A student from Afghanistan volunteered to help us and we had an interesting chat with him and he told us some water stories in his language.

Water Stories from Dal Lake

2010-04-21T02:58:00.000-07:00

Water Stories Srinagar April 7, 2010 dictated by Anna Macleod

Floating Gardens on Lake Dal

Cultivation Systems

The naturally occurring floating platforms of vegetation are utilized by the lake people on Lake Dal. The gardens are formed by harvesting vegetation from the lake body and mud from the bottom of the lake. this forms a surface upon which the farmers can plant their seeds.

A base layer of vegetation is harvested by boat with a long pole and the soil harvested from the lake bottom is piled up to dry before spreading over the compost. Mounds are created into which seeds are placed. These seeds are saved from the previous years harvest. Some years ago, a German woman brought seeds from Germany which were intended to suppress the naturally occurring vegetation and aid cultivation. One unforeseen result was the inhibition of the growth of lotus roots which are an important staple to the diet of the people in the lake community and a source of income because they harvest and sell the lotus roots. The local farmers were very annoyed and are now rightly suspicious of imported seeds. Thus they continue to use seeds harvested from the previous season.

The lotus plant yields both root and nuts after the flowering season. The stems and leaves can be made into necklaces due to the strength of the fiber of the stems.

The vegetables growth upon the lake are growth both on the floating gardens and on gardens cultivated on the islands on the lake. This is an important economy for the people of this area because the food is locally produced and harvested and sold and remains an economic industry. There’s one road over the mountains leading to Srinagar. Because this is a highly militarized zone access is slow and expensive and gets closed off by snow at times. Thus, dependence on local vegetables is essential for this area of Kashmir.

The importance of the lake, which sustains 100,000 families including 12,000 people living on the houseboats, cannot be underestimated. It is a source of livelihood for the local inhabitants as well as being a major tourist destination. In recent years the level of the lake has decreased due to climate change, shorter rainy season and less snow in the mountains.

A bout three years ago, an advisor to the local government suggested that the root cause of the decline in water table was due to the trees on the lakes and surrounding banks and islands on the lake. Despite local protests from the Houseboat Association and local inhabitants, the government sent in tree fellers supported by soldiers and cut down every tree on the lake. It made no difference to them, but deprived the populations who are reliant on boats mooring places for their boats as well as shade. In addition, it most probably contributed to soil erosion.

The new growth can be seen all over the islands on the lake but the juvenile trees are still unable to provide shade in the summer months. It is now accepted that climate change, not trees, is the cause of the change in water level. (The guy in charge of the project died before it was completed....baaaad kharma)

In the winter when the water level rises, the farmers move their produce to the floating garden which rise along with the level of the water. (The new trees are helping keep the soil in place during the flooding...duh!)

In Ayub’s grandmother’s time, children were forbidden to go out alone at night on the lake due to the belief that the singing lake angels (that are headquartered in the shrines at opposite sides of the lake) would spirit away the children.

A wide range of produce is grown on the lake including pumpkins, radishes, carrots, mustard, onions, greens and other local vegetables. The produce is sold at the water and land markets.

All local traffic is undertaken by boats known as shikaras. All goods are carried back and forth as well as people, animals. School children paddle themselves to shore to attend school. Parking is free and unrestricted. Some commerce exists upon on the lake in the form of floating platforms of canteens which sell everything from freshly made food to meat to cloth to beauty parlors. and drinks as well as boats acting as local grocery stores. It is a very self-sufficient and sustaining community.

Everyone on the lake is Muslim with 10% being Shia Muslims. Despite the conflict, day-to-day life seems to go on on the lake free from the harassment of the military. The young men of the community stay on the lake at night for reasons of safety as there is the largest concentration of military presence in all of India (700,000 soldiers currently) billeted in the Jammu-Kashmir area (??) at this time.

Because it’s a tourist destination, the inhabitants of Lake Dal are relatively safe from harassment from the military while on the lake or in in the “Tourist Zone”.

It seems like the Indian bureaucrats have little understanding of the needs and wishes of the population of Kashmir. It is said that the bureaucrats have a Delhi-London mentality. For instance, in former times there were a number of gates or exits from the lakes which meant that when the snowmelt comes down from the mountains to the lake the fresh water would flush out the collected dirt and sediment and pollution through these exits. These waterways have now been closed through insensitive and unbridled planning and development on the lakeshore and waterways sealing the lake so that the annual natural cleansing process cannot occur.

It seems that the failure of planning along water bodies is a global phenomenon. Despite the rising levels of pollution and entrophocation (sp??) on Lake Dal, there is still a vibrant wildlife population including Kingfishers, Kites, pigeons, frogs, otters, pomfrets and other birds, dragonflies, many species of ducks exist on the lake and some provide additional sources of food for the local people. (Roast duck is a specialty in the winter) Lake Dal is still a stop-off point for many migratory species of birds.

Many of the young men from Lake Dal take seasonal work in other parts of India such as Goa, Delhi and southern India. This is partly a necessity because of the falloff of tourism due to the recent continuing conflicts in Kashmir.

The British created the houseboat culture when they started building houseboats on a nearby river; when that became too crowded they moved onto the body of the lake.

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Government Initiatives

Some years ago, an official from central government came to assess the conditions on Lake Dal. She observed the generation-oil tradition of harvesting the pond plants and using them as compost on their floating gardens. She decided that this practice was damaging to the environment and insisted that the local population on the lake cease harvesting the pond plants. This, she hoped, would help improve the quality of the water. In fact, the farmers on the lake suffered a deficit of material to compost having only the canals between their houses as a safe place to harvest. Culprits who were caught harvesting on the lake body were imprisoned for short periods of time.

After two years, the official moved on to fresh fields and life on the lake returned to normal.

The next official to arrive and assess the conditions on Lake Dal decided that the water quality was being effected by the profusion of water lilies on the lake. Despite local wisdom as to the positive qualities of water lilies and the delicate ecosystem that exists between the various species of plantlife that live on the lake.

Waterlilies are a source of food both the root and the nut from the flower are relished as delicacies. The leaves provide shade for the fish and support an entire ecosystem of insects and small amphibians. A special machine, something like a combine harvester, was imported by the local government to pull up all the patches of waterlily to be found on the lake surface. This initiative did not improve the quality of the water on Lake Dal and soon after the policy was reversed in recognition that indeed the waterlily is a vital element of the ecosystem of the lake.

Srinagar and beautiful Dal Lake

2010-04-21T02:54:00.000-07:00

Ahhh! to be back on Dal Lake is truly heaven...so peaceful, relaxed, happy. Anna, Ondie and I are staying on the HB Mashal (Nightbird) houseboat. It was recommended by one of Ondie’s friends who has stayed here one month for 10 years (1990-2000) and, thus, is like a family member. Therefore, we are also like family and they’re letting us stay here for 700 rs a day (he says it’s 3500 rs a day by government standards). Last night we were talking to the father -- Nabi -- and said we’d like to come back next year. He said we can stay in the “small boat” in back for the 700 rs (we visited it yesterday and it is the old family boat parked in back... reminds me of an old camper that someone has up on blocks in their backyard... no furnishings --they’ll put mattresses and a mosquito net up for us).

The family is really great, besides Nabi, there’s Helema, the mother, and Ayub, the son (as well as Javid, the slightly simply cousin that has been “adopted” by the family because his dad died...he helps serve, clean and paddle the boats...more about him later). Last night the father told us an incredible tale about the history of Kashmir...the battles, the change of rulers, the conflicts, the killings. He concluded by saying that the fighting over who “gets” Kashmir has gone on so long that nobody cares anymore WHO gets it, they just want SOMEONE to get it and LEAVE THEM ALONE to live in peace and tranquility.

Having 700,000 soldiers patrolling Kashmir does not do anything good for tourism and Lake Dal’s boatpeople are totally dependent on tourism.

This morning we got up at 5:30 am, climbed on a small boat with Ayub and his friend and paddled to the vegetable market on the water. Fifty or so local boatpeople with their boats filled with produce -- spinach, carrots, greens, radishes, flowers, etc -- converged in one area to buy and sell. The bartering was very friendly -- more like a gathering of friends... a lot of hugging, chattering, and smoking together as they emptied or filled their boats with fresh vegetables. It’s primarily a wholesale market; they take the produce and sell it to the shops in town after breakfast.

Yesterday Anna and I worked on our water project by talking to people about the water (see attached stories). This has got to be the best place in the world to talk about water... they live on the water, are dependent on the water and love the water. However, there are all sorts of political and social problems surrounding the lake. My favorite story is about the trees that grow on the islands and wetlands that pepper the lake. It seems that a few years ago someone came up with the “wise” idea that the water level on the lake was going down due to the trees absorbing too much of the water. Sooooo, the government officials sent in guys with axes and police guards to chop down EVERY SINGLE tree on the lake. The boatpeople didn’t even have any trees to which to tie their boats! Insanity. Ironically the guy that came up with this harebrained idea died before it was finished (Kharma, I say).

(Oh, just for informational purposes, we have abandoned the Art Karavan for these three days even though I must say that the current group of artists is a terrific group. It’s just that I get so tired of the “group” thing... so much waiting... waiting for a meeting, waiting for a cab or bus... waiting for someone to get ready... waiting for dinner... waiting for tea... waiting, waiting....) We’re hoping that everyone comes out and visits us at the houseboat.

Next day:

To continue the insane stories about governmental officials “saving” Lake Dal. A woman official came to Srinagar and determined that the reason the lake was going down was because the lake farmers were harvesting the weeds and vegetation and mud out of the lake (which they do to stabilize/mulch/fertilize the floating gardens before planting their crops). So, she banned the practice in the main lake despite the protests of the lake people. This really made gardening more difficult because they could only collect the vegetation from the canals that ran through the river “villages”.

The third stupid idea involved the theory that the waterlilies (which are treated as a crop from which they get lotus root and nuts to eat and sell at the market) were making the water level go down. They sent in machines and people to clear them out of the lake. This, of course, not only put a real damper on waterlily produce but also, I would bet, mess up some ecosystems on the lake. This project was ended, however, when the waterlilies reappeared the following year.

As an aside, a foreign lady came up with a way to kill the “bad” weeds in the lake. However, the weed killer was also a lotus killer and its use was banned pronto.

Life on the Lake

So after the market and a delicious breakfast on instant Starbucks coffee (thanks to Joni’s going away present!), we hired a shikara (lake luxury boat) and went on a 2 hour journey to the water filtration facility. Ayub helped paddle or else we’d probably still be on our way there.

We got out of the boat where the water supply line for the entire Srinagar area crosses the lake. We walked the waterline putting up our Save Water (Panni Bachao!) posters on the pipeline and poles of all sorts. When we got to the plant, there were soldiers bunkered just outside. At first the commander told us we were not allowed to take pictures, but by the time Anna finished interviewing the workers about water, posting posters on the walls and just charming them in general, the soldier asked us to hang some posters on their sand-bagged bunker and then proudly posed with the poster (guns and all).

The following day we went (by rickshaw, this time) to the water treatment facility. Really interesting. They get the main water supply from the mountain runoff, but treat water from the lake (which is spring fed) as a reserve. Once again we cut through the bureaucracy by getting permission to tour the plant, hang posters and take photos and do interviews by the head official of the plant. Turns out that one of the workers at the plant is a good friend of Ayubs so he was a happy host and did an interview with Anna.

A funny note: Ayub is a COMPLETELY ENTHUSIASTIC helper on the Pani Bachao! project and the rickshaw driver got into the spirit, too, hanging posters and participating in the water conversations.

The guys also took us to one of the (underused) water gates on the lake. They don’t flush the lake enough, according to some, and this causes the lake to build up pollution. The area around the gate was completely polluted and garbage was everywhere. However, we met some nice people who told us stories about the lake and water.

We also visited a floating village on the lake (where Javid lives). We were MOBBED when we arrived by the women and children of the village (some of them actually punched me in the butt and arm... as a sign of affection? curiosity? not sure) They wanted EVERYTHING on our bodies -- rings, bracelets, watches, necklaces, earrings, clothes... and they were VERY insistent! I had to protect my necklace under my sweater!

We gave them our Pani Bachao! posters and they hung them around their houses and yards. I gave out yarn bracelets... what an experience! They were literally fighting with each other to get a bracelet (although I gave one to anyone who wanted one...in many cases, two). I was ensnarled in thrusting wrists.

We had tea with Javid’s family and then put up another round of posters before leaving. It was an intense hour! (We’re invited to stay for a night the next time we come... that’d be a trip... I’m leaving my jewelry, watch and anything else that I want to keep at the houseboat!)

One of the highlights of our houseboat stay was definitely the food. Helema served the most delicious food I’ve tasted in India. The spinach.... ah! the spinach. She says the recipe is this:

Boil spinach well and then chop it up until it’s mush
Sautee with onions (maybe carmelized first??) and a little oil
Pepper with black pepper

Doesn’t sound like much, but it’s the best spinach I’ve ever tasted! (We insisted on having it every day!) We decided that the incredible flavor must come from the spinach itself. This spinach is grown on the floating gardens which are fertilized with lake plants and mud... must give it a uniquely delicious flavor (although I AM going to try this at home and see how it tastes)

Also had a lake green called haag (sp?) which was boiled, chopped, flavored and sauteed, carrots and peas, lamb sausage, chicken and lamb in sauce. Every dinner was a delicious surprise. The spices the Kashmiris use are subtle and yummy -- cinnamon, cardamon, ?? Sometimes in curd sauce, other times dry, but all the time very, very tasty.

Nabi, the dad, is quite a (flirty) character and is glad to collect hugs at every turn. He told us a lot of stories about life on the lake -- how it came about (long story, read Anna’s interview), how it is to live on the lake and raise kids on the lake (not good, they get stigmatized for living on the lake and don’t get to participate in cricket, etc...horrors!), how the politics and relationships are with others (Lake people and land people do not mingle or mix.... although some lake people also have houses on the land, they cannot marry a land person unless that person has is a lake person by heritage. The lake people were created by a God during an event that sounds very much like Noah and the Ark’s event...... Muslims don’t get along with Hindus although they did in times past... the hostilities and fighting in Kashmir has damaged their relationship ....and no one gets along with the Indian Army (who number 700,000 in Kashmir...largest concentration anywhere)).

The lake people blame the land people for the Lake’s problems and the land people blame the lake people. We interviewed people on both sides but it’d be nice to have about a month here to really stir up interest in Pani Pachow!

The beauty of the lake and the surrounding mountains is amazing. Each day at around 4:30 pm, the lake goes still and the sun brightens before setting and the reflections of the houseboats and vegetation and life as usual on the lake are dazzling. We probably took a couple thousand photos between the three of us and hundreds of them are National Geographic quality.

A trip to Kashmir and Dal Lake is one not to miss (despite the military presence.... just don’t go around alone outside the tourist district or stay on the lake and everything will be fine).

Shimla -- The Stairmaster of all cities!

2010-04-21T02:20:00.000-07:00

Shimla is beautiful and weather is like Ohio Spring. The buildings are built on STEEP slopes...70% grade at least...don't know how they're built so they don't slide down the hill!... the town is in about 10 or so "levels" descending the slope and connected by hundreds of stairs... it's like a town-sized stairmaster... SO I'm fully expecting my thighs to turn to steel before I leave.

The town has been exhausting... physically (we climb HUNDREDS of BIG steps each day) and mentally (trying to get the "Pani Bachao!" --Save Water!--posters made was a nightmare of inefficiency and annoying overcharging us because we're white).. Anna and I were busy the entire time we were in Shimla working on the water project (after we FINALLY got the posters we plastered them all over walls like they do here and in Mexico and S. and Central Am ... Looked good and got a lot of positive feedback from people and some nice photos)

We're having a "show" called "One Night Stand"... each of is turning our hotel room into a gallery for a night... we've invited some people (but I doubt if many will come...our hotel is far out of town)... but it'll be fun. Anna and I are installing our "Water Conversations" piece in the room (we have a 10' vinyl banner, some laminated 8x10 signs about water, and bigger ones that say "Tell me a story about water?" and "What does water mean to you?".... also have 1000 signs with an image for conserving water that we are going to paste all over the walls of this and other towns ..and our hotel room)... We have also crocheted 15 water bottle holders and are hanging them in the room along with crocheted sea creatures. We just talk to people about water and record the conversations...part of Anna's worldwide project that she started in Africa.

Also filming for Kata... did one cool abstract bare back piece and working on a second one...went to film this morning only to find 6 or so sleeping/snoring/talking on phones/chatting people draped in the area of our filming ... plus a bunch of banging, hammering, shouting people setting up the stage for a fashion show! Well, that ended that! So we'll try again tomorrow...

Anna and I have been working all day trying to get our signs, etc... you'd think it would take a couple hours, but in India it becomes one nightmare of searching, talking, negotiating, having things come out wrong, trying again, being overcharged, talking, walking, climbing, negotiating some more.... it is completely exhausting and frustrating.... unbelievable that this country continues to operate...and Shimla is probably the MOST efficient I've seen.

Thank God for beer! I gave bracelets of all my "brothers" that are waiters at the fancy hotel, so we are treated like royalty... have invitations to stay in their homes next time I come and one (who is a teacher of Hindi) has promised to teach me more of the language (beyond the 20 words I know, I guess!) We drank a couple beers last night...left at 9:30 pm but missed all the buses going to our hotel.... tried to get a cab but they wanted us to pay 300rs (which is OUTRAGEOUS ...altho it's about $6)... We started walking home and the "cab" followed and offered us a ride home for free... turns out it was just a couple (young) guys with nothing better to do... we told them we were Grandmothers and although they said "Age doesn't matter" it might have kept them on their best behaviors... We refused their invite for a drink but invited them to our One Night Stand opening with promises of many cute European girls (Kata...hahaha!) That's about the height of our hoots and giggles here!

Anna and I are plotting some exciting projects for me in Ireland...it's interviewing, photographing, recording, and filming people who have fallen through the cracks of functional society, which I'd love to do and think I'd be great at...she says there's a "Mens Club" in her town that's for all the eldest sons of farmers that inherited nonfunctional farms and are stuck there alone and unmarried while their siblings went off to other places and careers...but it's the duty of the eldest son to be caretaker of the land (even if it's worthless and non-producing)...she says they are an interesting but sad, depressed bunch, many of whom have turned to drink for their consolation .... when I go to Vera's wedding in July, she's going to introduce me to the head of the residency in her hometown and that will, we hope, help get me a residency there.

Leaving on April 1 to Jammu for just three days but staying in "the Princesses palace"?!?! We'll see what THAT means!?!? Then on to Srinagar (on the Pakistan border)...Art Karavan life continues to slide down the steep slopes of Shimla...

The Wild and Crazy Ride to Srinagar

2010-04-21T02:15:00.000-07:00

Easter Day was spent mine an 11 1/2 hour bus trip (seats very uncomfortable and now my butt muscles and back are aching) that was hair-raisingly horrifying at times as the bus driver was insane and careened up, down and around the mountains, narrowly missing all sorts of vehicles and cliff edges... we screamed like we were on a rollercoaster at times, certain that we were going to tumble to our deaths (Anna and I even said our goodbyes to one another, just in case!)

When we arrived in Srinagar (on Pakistani border.... largest soldier to people ratio anywhere in India...700,000 soldiers in Jammu-Kashmir!!) some of the artists decorated and hid eggs and had an Easter egg hunt .... I enthusiastically participated because we had eaten almost nothing all day and Anna and I were starved...so basically I went hunting and gathering for supper... yummy! we got two eggs each!!

We're staying at a university 8 km outside of town (which is unfortunate because Srinagar is the city where they live on houseboats in the middle of Dal Lake... kind of hard to get into the town spirit when you're nowhere near it!)...however, our rooms are fancy, smancy...almost like western hotel...with hot strong showers, TV with cable (we watched 3 movies last night while we crocheted scarves with my leftover yarn...I'm NOT carrying it any further!)

It's COLD here, though, and I sent all my warm clothes home, so I'm wearing three shirts, a sweater and my sleeping blanket along with the pink-yellow-orange scarf Anna crocheted....QUITE a stunner, I am!!

We're planning to go stay on the lake for a couple days... our collaborative project is on water so, DUH! it's essential that we go enjoy some time ON the water! (and AWAY from the Art Karavan...group travel is REALLY wearing on us!... although, we've collected several new artists and lost some so the group is actually the best its been since the start)

We've also decided to fly to Delhi (1 hour $80 plane ride versus 30-hour $20 busride from hell) and stay in a hotel separate from the group while we prepare for the final shows in Delhi (there are 4.... 2 sound like good opportunities)

Jammu...in the care of a Princess

2010-04-21T02:00:00.000-07:00

April 1st ??

I'm in Jammu today via a overnight sleeper (should be, impossible-to-sleep-on) bus... as usual Inder screwed up the plans and we almost had to ride in a seat-only bus, but Khitish (from Orissa) arranged a bus (with efficiency and speed) and saved the day. All the Europeans were partying in our area at the back of the bus... I was exhausted from our "One Night Stand" show the night before (which went really good...we decorated the room and it looked very high techs even though it was completely hilariously low tech...the "taxi drivers" and 4 or their friends came and enjoyed the show...definitely a new exciting kind of art for them to experience!), so I curled up in the corner and tried to sleep but only got a bit of sleep...

Once we arrived at 4 am, there was a large sign welcoming Art Karavan to Jammu, but no one was at the hotel to let us in.... sooooo, an hour later, we fell into our rooms, exhausted... but I was so filthy and my shoes and jeans so disgusting that I washed my clothes and myself and put fingernail and toenail polish on to hide future dirt...

We went on a tour of some ancient palaces, forts and temples today... (more about it later... I'm too tired to even type much)... and in 1 1/2 hours we are going to some dinner/performance evening (I'm going to die trying to sit and watch a bunch of acts!!) However, the food and organization of this stop is best of the Karavan and the rooms are very nice and people friendly... Unfortunately, we're only here today and tomorrow and then take a 10-hour bus to Srinagar (in Kashmir on the Pakistani border) where we stay till the 12th...

The flowers here in Jammu and Shimla are like our spring flowers and the weather about the same, too, so I'm sharing your good weather feelings. This area actually looks alot like the Appalacian Mountains... and a lot of it is very wealthy (Punjab... where all "our Ohio" Indian business people come from) and obviously are WAY WAY ahead of the rest of India as far as putting together hotels, restaurants and gas stations... In Shimla they actually FINE people for littering and smoking on the street!! Unreal....most places don't even have trashcans anywhere!!

---------------

Didn't take the time to write up our Jammu experience, but in brief, we were treated to three days of royal treatment (literally!) by our hostess Jyoti Singh (granddaughter of Maharaja Singh who ruled the area until the '40s and Independence). So, technically, she's not a Princess, but she still owns? has access to? some of the royal houses/museums/etc...and is an artist.

During our whirlwind stay in Jammu, Jyoti provided the most delicious food yet during Karavan served at the royal palace turned museum along with music, entertainment and interesting people and conversation. (We were SUPPOSED to show our work, but since Inder didn't pass that info along in a timely fashion, few of us were prepared to present)

However, we got to know Jyoti and two of her good friends and artists, Manjari from Delhi (ceramics, paintings, saw wildly colorful photos of her house) and Vennu Shah, an interesting and articulate artist and person. they're going to be in Srinagar doing a workshop so we hope to see them again.

Heat to Heights -- Lucknow to Shimla

2010-04-21T01:47:00.000-07:00

March 26 -

I think you can tell the class of sleeper cars on the train by the odors. There is a pervasive smell of male urine (we all agree that no woman’s urine could smell as disgustingly heavy) in the Sleeper Class cars. Sleeper Class is the lowest of the cars with sleeping facilities (I use this term loosely... complete description to follow). Above Sleeper Class is 3AC, 2AC and, finally, the creme de la creme 1AC. There are also levels beneath Sleeper Class which are sitting areas only that can be extremely crowded and the quality of fellow passengers poses more of a challenge to your and your luggage’s safety.

I’ve never stayed in 1AC but I hear it’s quite posh (porters to help with your luggage and offer you food and drinks). The other three classes have some similarities (in general, of course):

*The sleeping areas are arranged like two-sided compartments with two or three beds on each side (2AC=two beds/side; 3AC and Sleeper=3 beds/side)

*The top (or middle) bed swings down to form the back of the seat during the day and up for a bed at night

And some differences:

*From 2AC to 3AC to Sleeper the space goes from relatively clean to less clean to not clean at all

*In 2AC and 3AC they provide sheets and pillows; in Sleeper they provide nothing (which is a problem if you don’t realize this and have no blanket...especially if you’re wearing a skirt)

*2AC ad 3AC have air conditioning (although rarely needed except in the hot, hot summer); Sleeper has strong fans (that are often a point of contention between passengers...there are always those who want them on and others who insist of turning them off)

*The quality of people devolves as you move from 1AC to Sleeper (which says something about Art Karavan...we stay in Sleeper). Friendly families and interesting English-speaking businesspeople populate the AC coaches; by the time you get down to Sleeper there are people like the man we bunked with recently that kept urging Anna to join him in bed and flashed porn her way via his cellphone. The safety of your luggage also becomes less assured as you drop levels (although I’ve never had anything stolen).

*Food follows a similar pattern starting from excellent meals in 1AC (I surmise!) to lesser quality and variety as you move down through the levels. (Every time the train rolls into the station, however, vendors of all sorts mob the trains and make a speedy sweep through the cars selling everything from tea to omelets to packaged meals.)

On our trip from Lucknow to Simla we stayed in Sleeper Class. Anna, Christina, Yola and I shared our compartment with an Indian mother and daughter (who weren’t very nice at all). Within an hour of the start, the Indians announced that they were going to bed and, since their beds were the lower ones, we were forced out of our “room.” This worked out just fine,though, since we went and hung out with a bunch of Karavaners drinking and smoking, talking and laughing until 1:30 am.

I figured this would be just fine since we were going to be on the train until 10 am; only problem was that the Indian mother got up at 4:30 am, turned on the light in our faces and happily proceeded with her morning routine. But thanks to eyemasks and earplugs, we all managed to get some sleep.

We took the train to Chandigar (one of India’s first planned cities... Courbousier designed much of the city) and then another train to Kulka. In Kulka they have a “Toy train” (smaller gage than normal) that take you on a scenic journey into the mountains and Simla. However, we hadn’t made reservations and the train was fully booked, so we ended up hiring a couple mini-buses for the 3 (or 4...or 5) hour trip to Simla.

For once, a roadtrip into the mountains wasn't a terrifying event...our driver actually drove relatively slowly and safely (i.e., only occasionally passed on outside blind curves around mountains with 1000 foot cliffs dropping away inches from the edges of the tires). Shimla is built on the steep sides of the mountains ... nestled in the beautiful mountain range, the houses, hotels and shops cling precariously to the rocky slopes (I really do wonder how they build their structures... must have some well-designed foundations!)

Lucknow

2010-04-05T05:07:00.001-07:00

Lucknow --March 22 or so, 2010

Lucknow is not a tourist town. It’s the capital city of its state (very modern, clean and bustling with activity), the former center of the Moghul empire (and, thus, peppered with ancient beautiful buildings with spires and domes that have been preserved much better than most ancient buildings in India) and home to a population split between Muslims and Hindus (which didn’t seem to cause a lot of stress but, of course, I was only there for a few days and didn’t have an opportunity to do much mingling.)

Anna and I and Leslie and Gertrude from Germany spent a day sightseeing .... visiting the Moghul palace that is built with labyrinth-like hallways winding throughout its interior... there are many deadends and tricky passageways that take you up when you want to go down, down when you want to go up and finally dump you at a window or balcony or porch with no apparent way out.

It’s architecture resulted in wonderfully cool interior spaces and the four of us enjoyed a few hours relaxing and chatting with local people (and, of course, had our photos taken hundreds of times).

------------

The best adjective to describe Lucknow is HOT... unbearable, suffocating, oppressive heat. The temperature hovers in the 90s and 100s at mid-day. Our rooms have no fans and are like mosquito-infested ovens with beds. By 8:30 in the morning you begin to melt and continue to wilt throughout the day. Motivation melts away; productivity for most of the Karavaners is lower than usual.

We spend our days at the free Internet shop (which is good if one computer is in use but declines in speed and capabilities with each additional user.... I spent 3 hours online trying to update my blog and got very little accomplished thanks to the other 5 computers trying to accomplish similar feats)

As our time is short in Lucknow, Anna and I decide to do an easy-to-accomplish project. Anna’s on-going project involves water -- its lack, its pollution, its myths, its history, etc., etc. So, we have Khitish draw up a water conservation poster and set out to get 1,000 copies printed that we plan to plaster all over the walls leading into our artshow on the 24th.

We start at a stationery and photocopy shop. We (well, Khitish with us nodding and prodding and questioning) talk to the owner for at least an hour. He tells us it will cost around 700 rs (about $15) for 1,000 prints; we like the price and tell him to proceed. So he sends us to another stationery and photocopy shop about 15 minutes away where we repeat our discussion with another man. He tells us he’ll have a proof by 7 pm that night and the copies the next day.

At 7 pm we return; no proof. At 8, the proof arrives and is not what we ordered...it’s black on green instead of green on black). So we wait while they re-do it. At 9, the second proof. Still not right. Dull green on black instead of fluorescent green on black.
we talk and talk to another man (we think he is the actual printer, but not sure) and he guarantees us that he understands and that we don’t need another proof; our order will be ready the next day.

We are skeptical, but..... The next day we go to the shop to pick up our copies only to be directed to the second shop. Since we don’t know how to get there without Khitish, we wait until the next morning and go to the shop. No copies. No proof. They tell us that today is a religious holiday so no one is working (which is WHY they had to have it done the day before!!) We ask if they can do them first thing in the morning. No, not possible... 6 pm is the best they can do (and 6 pm means 9 pm -- or never -- and we are scheduled to leave for Simla at 9 pm)

So... for our three-day effort, we ended up with a half-assed proof. I really don’t see how this country continues to operate at ay functional level. There are flyers plastered ALL OVER the walls... hundreds, thousands in a town... but no one can figure out how to get some made in 3 days??

Oh, well, we didn’t do the project (maybe Simla??)... Anna made a slideshow to introduce the project but it couldn’t be read by the computer we were using to compile the presentations... not meant to be, I suppose (which isn’t a horrible thing because the presentations that were projected had no sound, weren’t adjusted to the screen properly so difficult to see, and ended up being stopped in mid-show).

Bodhgaya Vacation - Part 2

2010-04-05T05:05:00.001-07:00

Post 3-16-10 Bodhgaya

After a two-hour drive we arrived at Rajgir, where Buddha lived and preached and put in motion his second Wheel of Law. Last time I visited, the highlight was riding the rickety ski lift to the Peace Pagoda atop the mountain. This time, however, we were shocked to find that the ski lift was OUT OF ORDER (and had been for a month)! So there we were at 2 pm with temperatures in the mid-90s and a very high hill to climb.

But with the help of a nice walking stick rented for 20 rs and a fairly constant breeze that cooled our broiling bodies, we made it, first, to the caves where Buddha did the severe penance while trying to reach nirvana (which he finally reached under the Bodhi tree)that resulted in the image of him as a skeletal, emaciated man... and then to the Peace pagoda at the top where the steady drumming from the Japanese temple reverberated around the mountaintop and the huge Peace Pagoda.

We spent several hours hiking and relaxing and chugging cold drinks. Kata danced at the caves which were strewn with Buddhist prayer flags. I filmed Kata and yarnbombed the branch of a small tree festooned by flags. We all posed for hundreds of photos with pilgrims visiting the shrine.

On the way back, we stopped at some ruins of ancient caves and the hot baths where locals bathed for free and we were mobbed by “poor priests” asking for donations that would make our every wish come true.

And then came the horrible highlight of our trip.... while driving, we saw an accident up ahead... a motorcycle and bloody body laying in the street. We all looked on in horror as various cars, trucks, buses, and motorcycles --including our car -- wound around the crash site and continued on their way without stopping.

Bodhgaya Vacation - Part I

2010-04-05T05:03:00.000-07:00

Post Bodhgaya -- March 15, 2010

We are on a short vacation from the Karavan in Bodhgaya, the place where Buddah sat under the Bodhi tree until he became enlightened. Anna (McLeod or Ireland) and I lived here for a month in 2006 while participating in a month-long art event so wanted to visit old friends and places (however, although the places are mostly still here -- along with MANY new guest houses, restaurants and shops -- we haven’t met many of the town people we knew before).

We, along with Eric (VanHove of Belgium) and Kata (Lengyel of Hungary) and Beatrice (Diddier of Belgium), are staying in the beautiful new Rajhul Guest House (Kalachakra Ground 00916312200709 or 09934463849 rahul_bodhgaya@yahoo.com ... we paid 600 rupees/night for double rooms) which is CLEAN, has SCREENS in the windows (first I’ve seen) and HOT SHOWERS (actual showers... not just a bucket! First shower since I left home in January)

Bodhgaya overflows with temples and statues... a giant stone Buddha that sits in the clouds, Japanese, Chinese and Thai temples, the main temple where the Bhodi tree grows amidst layers and layers and layers of fluttering prayer flags and flocks of devoted pilgrims, and many, many more. Today we’re heading to Rajgir, a town 80 km away with a mountain topped with a Japanese Peace Pagoda. A rickety ski lift lurches you to the top.

But, thus far, the thing that’s most interesting (and annoying) here is the beggar kids. They have taken the art of begging to a high level. Here’s how it works. A (fairly well-spoken) boy chats you up (exhibiting his wisdom through a recitation of the capitals of countries around the world). Eventually he gets around to inviting you to visit his school (chock full of orphans, poverty-stricken Indian kids, and -- in the our case -- mini-monks in training). Once you arrive at the “school” you are given a tour (heavy emphasis on lack of school books, supplies and furnishings), introduced to the “principal” (i.e., skilled fundraiser) and corralled into the office (where you sit awkwardly until you hand over some money... oh, I mean, make a charitable donation).

We met our scammer at the temple. The boy was dressed in monk’s robes and since we all were interested in visiting a school for the monks, we accepted his invitation with enthusiasm. However, once we arrived at the school, there were no student monks, our mini-monk turned into major-fundraiser, and I remembered (belatedly, granted) that even Lonely Planet warns tourists about the school donation scam. We left with all of our rupees still with us.

Since then, I’ve been hit up with the “visit my school” scam hourly when in town... the stories vary slightly but always end with the invitation to tour the school. I’d be curious to know what the kids get out of the deal (so many rupees per head brought through the door? a cut of the donations? a place in heaven? a free education?)

(Note: Last night we hung out with some local men at the restaurant and one of them told me that 85% of the kids of Bodhgaya have their educations funded completely by donations. I told him that they should not leave the education of their children in the hands of strangers. What happens if and when the donations stop?)

In addition to the school scammers, beggars of every size, shape, age, and sex swarm through the town, asking for money, biscuits, school shoes, school pens, etc, etc. Unlike other Indian towns, these beggars are hard-core -- out for money and/or merchandise. I usually talk to and joke around with the beggars and sometimes give them a yarn bracelet...but this group isn’t very interested in such chatter or kindness... they want the GOODS! (One kid stuck with us for an hour or more, so I gave him a bracelet and talked with him for a long while. However, when I failed to give him anything except some grapes, he had someone untie his bracelet and ordered me to take it back.)

But, still, the local people are wondrous. The food is delicious! We had dinner at a restaurant a short distance from our hotel last night. One of the waiters has been so kind and friendly that I had given him a bracelet in the morning; he is now my brother. When we arrived at the restaurant, he had them move a table and chairs outside to the small patio, provided me with a cushion for my chair and a new mosquito coil for our feet. The food was absolutely delicious (momos, spaghetti with spinach and cheese, thuktpa -- thick soup) and the atmosphere was warm and tropical. (Kata kept telling us she was on the beach somewhere; no longer in India).

An interesting note: Bodhgaya has an international airport but no domestic service... I guess they’re flying foreigners directly in and out (nice captive audience). It would be a nice place to acclimate yourself into India, though, instead of Delhi or Kolkata or Mumbai!

Lucknow to Simla

2010-03-28T00:51:00.001-07:00

March 26 -- Lucknow to Simla

I’ve never stayed in 1AC but I hear it’s quite posh (porters to help with your luggage and offer you food and drinks). The other three classes have some similarities (in general, of course):

*The sleeping areas are arrange like two-sided compartments with two or three beds on each side (2AC=two beds/side; 3AC and Sleeper=3 beds/side)

*The top (or middle) bed swings down to form the back of the seat during the day and up for a bed at night

And some differences:

*From 2AC to 3AC to Sleeper the space goes from relatively clean to less to less clean

*In 2AC and 3AC they provide sheets and pillows; in Sleeper they provide nothing (which is a problem if you don’t realize this and have no blanket...especially if you’re wearing a skirt)

*2AC ad 3AC have air conditioning (although rarely needed); Sleeper has strong fans (that are often a point of contention between passengers...there are always those who want them on and others who insist of turning them off)

On our trip from Lucknow to Simla we stayed in Sleeper Class. Anna, Christina, Yola and I shared our compartment with an Indian mother and daughter (who weren’t very nice at all). Within an hour of the start, the Indians announced that they were going to bed and, since their beds were the lower ones, we were forced out of our “room.” this worked out just fine,though, since we went and hung out with a bunch of Karavaners drinking and smoking, talking and laughing until 1:30 am.

i figured this would be just fine since we were going to be on the train until 10 am; only problem was that the Indian mother got up at 4:30 am, turned on the light in all of our faces and happily proceeded with her morning routine. But thanks to eyemasks and earplugs, we all managed to get some sleep.

We took the train to Chandigar (one of India’s first planned cities... Courbousier designed much of the city) and then another train to Kulka. In Kulka they have a “Toy train” (smaller gage than normal) that take you on a scenic journey into the mountains and Simla. However, we hadn’t made reservations and the train was fully booed, so we ended up hiring a couple mini-buses for the 3 (or 4...or 5) hour trip to Simla.

Varanasi -- city of the burning ghats

2010-03-28T00:46:00.000-07:00

Post - Varanasi 3/19/10

In Varanasi I went hippie. At some point if I travel long enough in India, I give into the heat in favor of comfort and exchange my jeans for something else (always silky and flowy). So after a day shopping with Anna, I have become psychedelic hippy queen. For $30 I now have 3 dresses and 2 shirts (that make me look like a psychedelic clown) and some I Dream of Genie balloon pants (that finish off the clown look)... have exchanged cool for cool (hahaha... THAT can be interpreted as you will)

Yesterday was a good day.... Anna and I (Kata and Eric disappeared on separate journeys in the morning and we didn’t cross paths again until evening) wandered the streets of Varanasi...

Had chai with kids running the family shop (many shops are run by kids between the ages of 8 to 20)... the younger boy watched Avatar on his I-Pod while the 10 year old girl decorated Anna and I with tiny stamps dipped in colorful powdered dyes....

Spent an annoying half hour being tracked by an overly aggressive Indian guy that was “in love” with Anna and called her “honey” and professed his desire by assuring her that he was “very strong” and didn’t sleep with “many women.” In final desperation, he told her he had “a big banana.” (However, a couple of young boys took me aside and told me he was an undercover policeman .... In Varanasi, police try to sell travelers drugs and then bust them and make them pay NOT to put them in jail...of course, any astute traveler will hear about the scam within 10 minutes of arrival in town...

Flew a paper kite with some young boys (every evening the skies are filled with colorful paper kites soaring and plunging through the air)...

Ended up at the Varansi waterworks (much to Anna’s delight... her art project is about water in all its aspects). The workers at the water plant were also delighted... few Westerners visit the waterworks and ask for a tour, much less two white women. They proudly showed us around. The city’s water is pulled directly from the (very polluted) Ganga River. There was an article in the newspaper detailing the incredible levels of pollution... in addition, of course, they dump numerous dead bodies in the river each day as part of their rituals of death.

Patna, India --Magical Moments

2010-03-24T04:56:00.000-07:00

At some poiont (earlier if you travel fast) India overwhelms the senses to the point that they begin to shut down...one by one. The pervasive smells of urine and garbage and thousands upon thousands of bodies rushing and working in the heat soaked streets go mostly unnoticed (unless, of course, you walk downwind of a public urinal). the ears stop yearning for just ONE MOMENT of silence or quiet and accept the constant cacophony of screaming, honking horns, chugging generators, blaring music, wailing songs and babies and bellowing cows. The eyes adjust to the insane patchwork of colors that adorn buildings an landscapes alike, to the crumbling structures and sidewalk shelters, knotted electrical wires, crippled, maimed and snot-nosed beggars, to laborers lugging sacks of grain that bend them nearly to the ground, to careening cars, trucks, buses, rickshaws, and bicycles, to temples featuring multi-limbed, garishly colored, elephant and monkey-like Gods and the eyes begin processing the chaos with barely a flicker. The tongue accepts the flavors of pollution, spices, exhaust fumes and smoke and the skin absorbs the veil of dust and dirt and becomes one with the earth.

The unusual and unique become the norm and you move through the throngs of people and bumper car traffic with comfort and ease. But even as you accept the unusual as usual, India continues to surprise and delight.

The other morning I got up at 6 am to go the the Ganga (Ganges) River for a performance by Khitish (a wise 23-year-old Orissa artist). A group of 10 or so where walking through the awakening streets enjoying the cool morning breeze and relative quiet. A bicycle rickshaw drove by and, as usual, the occupant, an elderly woman, craned her neck around the side of the rickshaw to get a longer look at the white people walking. I waved and smiled. Up ahead, the rickshaw stopped. I thought she was going to ask me if I needed a ride or something. Instead, however, when I approached her, she gently took my hands in hers and bowed her head murming a blessing (I presume) before touching her hand to my forehead. I smiled and bowed my head in return. And then I continued walking and she told her rickshaw to “challo!” (go!) The girl walking next to me looked and me and we both raised our brows. “Things like that rarely happen to me in Ohio,” I said, and we both laughed in wonder. I was at peace the rest of the day.

In Ranchi a similar thing happened to Kata and me. We were sitting on the steps of a small temple relaxing. Some boys were playing cricket nearby, people from the neighborhood were walking her and there going about their daily business. A young girl in her teens fo 20s with a small child walked by and I, as usual, said “Namaste” and smiled at them and joked a bit with the kid. About 10 minutes later, I saw the two of them coming toward us from a distance carrying something. As they came closer I realized it was a big bouquet of flowers (for the Gods in the temple, I presumed.) Instead, she walked up to me and presented the flowers to me with a smile and a bow of her head. she then turned and walked away. Kata and I looked at each other and the world was suddenly a very beautiful place.

Of course, I’ve come to expect magical moments when doing my bracelet project. Every time I tie a bracelet on someone’s wrist, a wonderful “something” passes between us. The beggar kids stop begging and, instead becomes kids and we joke around and laugh and talk. I gave bracelets to two adorable gap-toothed older ladies who wanted money for food. They giggled like teenagers throughout the process, patted me on the shoulders and head and then strolled away jabbering about the strange experience they had just had. (Two young Muslim men watched this exchange and by the time the ladies left, they, too, were smiling...and the Muslin facial expression is a tough one to crack!)

At the railroad station, I tied bracelets on a man with half a hand, a man so dirty he seemed to be permanently black from head to shoes, a beautiful young beggar mother carrying her baby, an entire family of street people, a cow (his horn) and a statue of Ghandi.At lunch we had the most adorably ancient waiter. He took such good care of us and we enjoyed jabbering in my horrible Hindi. I presented him with a bracelet and he seemed to actually GROW in stature as I tied it on and then be BLUSHED and giggled and looked proudly at the other waiters. Every time he returned to the table, he shook his gray head and chuckled with happiness. It’s a good project.... definitely making connections that run far deeper than I expected.

But enough of the serious stuff.... on to THE INDIAN EROTIC MOVIES

Eric, Kata and I decided it would be fun to go to see some Indian porn in the lowest class theatre in town. We arrived about a 1/2 hour late, but there were still about 50 or more mostly young men buying their tickets. One man, obviously concerned about our ignorance, came over and informed us that this wasn:t “a family movie” and that we couldn’t attend. When Eric asked why he said he didn’t know... “it just isn’t fair,” he said. We, of course, responded by going to the ticket counter and buying our tickets (despite constant warnings that this was not a family movie). But we bought our 12 rupee tickets (45 rupees to a dollar)... there were 10 rupee tickets, too, but you had to STAND downstairs in a mob (we might be crazy, but not THAT crazy!)

After climbing 5 flights or steps, we settled in our balcony seats...the movie was underway. Unbelievable. I thought maybe it was a filler flick before the real thing, but it was indeed the feature. It looked like it was made in the 70s (because one of the sexy girls was dressed like a hippie)... The film was badly scratched and marked and the “scenes” were segmented by black film with “lightning” scratched into it which was accompanied by crashing fake thunder... I can’t even describe the plot, but it involved two policemen, three sexy girls (the hippie, a very dark skinned girl and an Indian woman with her sari tucked seductively?? in her belt), several overweight mustachioed Indian guys, and -- my favorite character -- a MONSTER (yes, a big hairy, ugly monster man with huge fake hands hanging down covered with green fur) The monster lurched around, roaring and grunting until he found a sexy girl (usually on the bed having erotic dreams) that he could ravage and then kill. If he happened upon a man, he’d simply kill him. In between the monster shots, there were odd scenes in which some erotic act was featured (from unbuttoning a shirt to doing “the deed” which was captured by flashing from the man’s head to the woman’s head with groans of OOOOH! AAAAAH! OOOOOH! AAAAAAH! OOOOOOH! AAAAAH!)

Meanwhile the fellows standing downstairs whooped and hollered. (The ushers kept anyone from sitting next to us, but one guy sat two seats away and moaned “Ahh, boobs, I love big boobs! F***ing boobs! Yaaaaaah!” until our lack of interest sent him scurrying back to his seat.We stayed until Intermission (God only knows what happens during the break where hundreds of excited Indian boys are involved!) It really is a sad and pathetic comment on the state of sexual affairs in Indian. If hundreds of men and boys throng to see such horribly, pathetically bad porn, something is definitely amiss!

Other news--Two guys from Serbia joined the Karavan yesterday and my friend Anna arrives in the morning... the Karavan blogsite is up (although I haven’t posted to it) at artkaravan.wordpress.com ... it probably has some photos of me and the rest of the crew...

I gave a talk on Conceptual Art and my work at the college and the kids loved it (although don’t really quite get it)...Getting the equipment, power, plugs and screen was the highlight... the plugs were held in by placing rocks around them... the screen was a big white blackboard thing scraped and marked.... an electrician (and I use this term very loosely) had to come and twist some wires together and stuff them in a box... we got started about an hour late, but no one cared in the least..

Kata, Eric and I went to a “ritzy” Indian members-only club on the banks of the Ganga last night for drinks and snacks with the guy running the Patna leg of the Karavan and his wife (both of whom I know from the time I spent in Bodh Gaya). There were no other women there (they come on weekends).... just groups of guys gathered in circles of chairs in the grass and on the patio, drinking and eating...

Went on a siteseeing trip to a private museum... The Quila House featuring the Jalan Collection http://www.jalanmuseum.com/ Unbelievable amount of stuff of all sort... the guy who accumulated it was obviously a hoarder of the highest level and had a bit too much money at his disposal! But it was interesting... and then on to the Jain temple (second largest in India?? or Bihar??)...

Jains are a separate religion from Hindu and Muslims (share some roots, I suppose)... they’re the ones who wear turbans. When we walked in, the temple display was bright and flashy and beautiful...but off to the side sat about 40 people counting STACKS of money and coins from the collection boxes... obviously, the Jains are doing A-OK.

Kata and I are launching a new project -- Non-Performance Art. We’re just going to go stand somewhere until a crowd gathers and then take a bow and leave. We got the idea when we went to the train station to watch a performance by some of the artists...they were painted with white faces and carried spoons with rice in them in their mouths...very dramatic. However, Kata and I simply standing there watching drew a crowd as big or bigger than the performance. Khitish, the Orissa artist, kept telling the crowd to watch the performance, but to no avail. Finally, I stepped forward and said *Hello, my name is carol Hummel. “I’m from the United states and I love India” The crowd went wild with approval!! Kata did a short speech, too, to the crowd’s delight! Khitish so aptly summed it up by saying, “Well, it’s obvious who the real works of art are” Hilarious!

And so ends my chatter for the next week or until I find an internet again. We’re having the end of Patna party tomorrow and on the 11th the Karavan goes to Lucknow, but a bunch of us are going to Bodh Gaya for several days to enjoy some monks and temples and Tibetan food.

The Wedding of Trees

2010-03-24T04:44:00.000-07:00

The Wedding of Trees -- Emily and Kalpabatta

Today I did a collaborative piece with the artists from Orissa... We had a marriage between my daughter the tree and Kshitish's son the tree. (My tree's name was Emily) Why would we marry trees? Welllllllllll.... in India there is a tradition of marrying trees...(true story!) If someone wants to marry his or her love and there is a problem with their horoscope, if they marry the love, the love will die. SO they first marry a tree (there are male and female species of trees...bet you didn't know that!!) The wedding is the real thing complete with guests, food, music, priest, the works. The tree apparently absorbs the the bad stuff and allows the person to marry their love without knocking them off.

THEN, once married, if the couple is having trouble getting married, are unhappy, having any sort of problems, they call upon the trees again. This time, they have a marriage between a male tree and a female tree (again, full-blown marriage)... they plant the trees together ... and they, once again, do their magic (a lot cheaper that infertility treatments or marriage counseling, eh??)

So, we had a marriage between two trees (I crocheted a LOVELY red and gold outfit for the bride)... It was really cool... they went through an entire (but small) Hindu wedding ceremony.... took red paste and put between our eyes and then pressed rice into it... then did to all the guests (we had 20 or so... an intimate affair, you know)

The priest chanted in Hindi... some of the artists played drums and tamborines and sang in the background... the priest had us put marriage crowns on the trees, and thread bracelets... the lady who hosted the wedding brought the tree couple gifts of bangles and saris and material and money.... she danced and sang whenever the mood struck her... others in the audience joined in... we danced with the trees around the wedding table (a low table with red cloth... oranges on 3 corners, grapes on the 4th... a spiral shell filled with red liquid and a flower -- obvious reference to virginity -- a small God figure) seven times and then the woman put tikkas on the trees brows and voila! the marriage was over!

Afterwards (during the many obligatory photos after any event that involves white people) the lady and I talked and both agreed that what would really be happening at that point is that the bride would be crying and begging her mother not to make her go live with the groom.... we were wailing while Kshitish tugged on "Emily" ..hilarious.

The drummers led our dancing wedding party to the place where we planted the trees (down a dirt path, through the kitchen tent where 3 cooks were stirring massive pots of rice and vegetables). The trees were planted together in one hole, intertwined... and we all dumped panfuls of water on them while the drummers drummed and the men wrapped their arms around each other and danced around the tree... then the women joined in and I am now, once again, the "dancing white woman"..adored by all... One Indian artist said, "When you dance you are like a flower slowly opening.." Hahaha... sooo sweet!

Ranchi

2010-03-24T04:39:00.000-07:00

Post -- Ranchi, Bihar, India 2-24-10

So, as I said, this is the cleanest, most organized, least wacky town we’ve been in yet... so looking forward to aimlessly wandering around enjoying a smaller, cleaner, easier-to-handle town than Kolkata... and then we get a call to tell us to return to the compound immediately because it’s dangerous to be out on the streets... that we’re going to get kidnapped and robbed or held for ransom.

Of course we ignore such nonsense (calm down, worryworts back home, it’s OK). I’ve been in Bihar (the most violent and dangerous state in India) and although they have some Maoist mafiosos (or Robin Hoods, depending on your perspective) out in the countrysides, they generally don’t come into cities to grab tourists (which are few and far between in Ranchi...really not worth the effort).

However, fear spreads through the Art Karavan participants. We are told we can’t leave the compound (for a week??!!)... we are told we have to sign a waiver of liability if we DO go out (no problem)... we are told we have to be in each night by 7 pm if we do go out so they can lock us in.

We had an opening gathering of politicians and sponsors of Art Karavan so I asked some of the local people if we really are in danger. Every one of them say absolutely not... the city is safe (just use common sense and take precautions you’d always take; there ARE bad apples in any place!)

I had a nice chat with a retired geologist from Shantinikiten (spelling) and told him we wanted to go to the Indian cinema to see “My Name is Khan” and he offered to take us today. Kata, Eric and I went with Babul to the fanciest theatre I’ve ever seen in India (plush, overstuffed armchairs...popcorn... clean). The movie takes place in the US and is about the Muslim hate-fest that rippled through the country after 9-11. The theme of the movie is, “My name’s Khan and I’m not a terrorist” (i.e., just because you’re a Muslim doesn’t mean you’re a terrorist... there are good Muslims and bad Muslims just like any other group of people). Of course, mixed in with this message were others: Hindu-Muslim marriage (the hero does one and is ostracized by his brother), issues involving the handicapped (the hero is autistic), a dash of Black poverty and suffering in America, and I’m sure a few more. But it was good.

Afterwards we went to Babul’s apartment (lovely place) and had tea and snacks and talked with his wife (a junior high teacher of Sociology and Political Science). Babul gave us all parting gifts (Eric-a notebook, Kata-a change purse, me-an owl piggy bank) of traditional leather work and design from Shantinikiten. So sweet!

Tonight we learned some traditional Indian dancing (if you think Country line-dancing is tough, try this!! You have to coordinate feet, hands, neck, head, and EYE movements! Never gonna happen to me in my lifetime!! But it was fun trying!), looked at some paintings and sculptures and had a couple performances by local art students.

The week is filling up fast.... may go to a tribal village a couple hours away and spend the night... Holi (the color festival where you throw dyes on each other) is on March 1st... we’re going to visit a local prison (cool!) and do some performances... some are doing workshops at schools and here at the compound.

OH! The most amazing news of all! When we checked in, I took a room next to the toilets that smelled like a nasty latrine... nobody else wanted it... they all rejected it before I took it. Well, last night, Kata discovered that behind a door that we thought went to the outside, was a big, beautiful BATHROOM!! complete with HOT WATER!!! (Before this discovery we had to walk outside to the line of common squat toilets and take our bucket baths there, too, with ICY cold water.) I am sooooo happy!! India really does take care of me.... I wish for something and it suddenly appears!

Omm Shanti!

Karavan stop 3 --Ranchi

2010-03-23T01:37:00.001-07:00

Post - Ranchi Delhi Belly & Raj Holi Feb 27, 2010

Delhi Belly in Ranchi, the clean city, is Delhi Belly nonetheless. A wave of illness washed through the artists during the past week and -- literally -- cleaned us all out (with the aid of a large dose of bacteria, I suspect). Marisa was the first to get “it,” a bug featuring diarrhea, vomiting, extreme fatigue, headache, dehydration in a combination of any or all. But it soon spread throughout the Art Karavan, dropping white people first but eventually hitting some of the Indian artists. It only lasts for a day or two (during which you sleep around the clock when you’re not running to the toilet). However, two of the artists ended up on IVs in the hospital because of dehydration and other complications.

I actually got off fairly easy -- I didn’t vomit. However, I felt like I was GOING to vomit for two full days. I couldn’t face food (especially the greasy and or spicy food we are usually fed) and I slept an entire day. The worst part of my bout was the SPLITTING headache I had for 3 days. No matter what I took or how much water I drank, my head pounded relentlessly. The doctor came to check us all out (and prescribed some medicine for the cough I’ve had since Nepal 6 weeks ago) and basically had us drinking rehydrating salts and taking pills to stop vomiting and diarrhea.

So, of course, as bad luck would have it, this is Holi time. Holi is the festival of colors... people light fires in the streets and fields to kick it off and then spend a couple days drunk and throwing powdered dye on each other. Nutan, the Rajasthani lady who hosted our tree wedding, invited Khitish, me, Kata, and Eric to a “Rajasthani Holi” celebration. Which would have been wonderful at any other time, but I was in the midst of my sickness, Kata just recovering from hers, and Eric starting to slide into his. Oh, and it was also 10 pm and followed a looooong program and the local museum.

But when a wonderful Rajasthani lady calls, we answer.

We walked to a hall a short distance from our place to the community room in a beautiful (gated!) high-rise apartment complex. The room reverberated with pounding drums and singing. We were greeted like royalty (showing up late, but, hey! we’re royalty!) The women (all dressed in beautiful brightly colored saris) jumped up and started dancing, dragging Kata and I into the fray. Of course, Nutan said there would be no colors (throwing dye), but we got smeared with fluorescent pink within moments of our arrival.

For the next two hours, the men drummed and sang (it was wonderful! Indians really know how to drum!!) The women danced and then the men danced and then we all danced together for the grand finale. The food looked wonderful but my stomach wouldn’t even consider letting even a morsel come its way.

Even though I gulped down some pills and crashed the moment I got home, it was a night to remember.

Post -- Ranchi -- Feb 28, 2010

I woke up today feeling half myself and that was good. My headache was halfway gone, my stomach felt fairly good, and my cough was slightly improved; a good day (compared to the last two days of pain and exhaustion).

I spent the day editing photos and video (learning I Movie out of sheer necessity) for our presentations tonight at the Center for Coal Production (or something like that), who gave us some money for the Karavan. Khistish and I are going to present the tree wedding piece.

Of course, we were first dragged to another place with another crowd wanting us to do anything to entertain them but none of us were prepared because no one told us what was happening so a few improvised and seemed to satisfy them.

But the Coal Center was amazing. The most modern building I’ve ever seen in India. It was in the midst of a corporate living community that could have been in the US. The show was long and drawn out .... lots of folk dancers and singers and our presentations that dragged on and on. We did get to dance with one of the tribal village groups which was fun. But basically we were all starving.

But, boy, was it worth the wait! It was a spread! Hot and sour soup, chicken in gravy, steamed vegetables, ice cream (these are what I ate) and loads of other delicious dishes.

We ended up all dancing wildly with the Indian men (and a few women) and had a fantastic time…. That’s what the Art Karavan needs – LOTS OF DANCING!!

Kolkata continued...

2010-03-23T01:31:00.000-07:00

Pursuing serious information in the bookshops (that are air conditioned!) in Kolkata
Kata cracked up when she saw the chance positioning of Obama and Hitler books

Art Karavan stop #2 -- Kolkata

2010-03-23T00:59:00.000-07:00

Tying crocheted bracelets on the wrists of my new brothers and sisters for my on-going project during Art Karavan

My favorite cook sitting in front of daily fare for Art Karavan in Kolkatta...yumm!?!??
Puja, her mom and friend at home in New Market slum

Kata with some of her dancing friends in the New Market slum

Tying bracelets on the arms of India

Entrance to wedding hall

Small yarn bomb of the hostel door beneath the stadium

Friends of Kolkata

Kshitish, artist from Orissa, during performance

Lunchtime friends

Gopal, from Assam, with his installation

Jeetin, from Bangalore, and Ondi, from USA (under red cloth) perform in Kolkata streets

Jeetin during Kolkata performance

India is great DANGER

Drummer girl

Kata dancing in slums of Kolkata

Dhobie wallah (laundry man)

Bare-bottomed beggar boy with stuffed doll

Kata Lengyel of Hungary in blue space where she danced and I filmed...very beautiful!!

Local lady showing me how crocheting is done!

Chicken choppers in New Market slaughterhouse, which is tastefully connectd to the main shopping "mall".... gives a special sort of olfactory ambience

"Blue Water" a small piece of hope created to inspire clean water to flow from my faucet

February 16, 2010 --Kolkatta

The train journey from Shantiniken to Kolkatta was 3 1/2 hours long and was highlighted by a dance through the train cars by Kata... the local passengers looked at us (her dancing, me filming) with surprise and smiles. It got more raucous when she did a dance over and around the seats filled with Art Karavan artists... good fun.

Our new quarters for the week are under a HUGE STADIUM in the Salt Lake section of Kolkatta... like the catacombs...numerous rooms and dormitories tucked along the circular hallway surrounding the stadium. However, our rooms are AIR CONDITIONED and relatively clean with western toilets and hot water! Can’t beat that! (Although some of the rooms host swarms of mosquitos and some huge cockroaches and there are a few rats scuttling down the hallways).

My room’s terrific because I’m by myself and can snore in solitude without worrying about disturbing any roommates. Kata has a room on the exterior of the building, however, and the mosquitos can’t be kept out. (So I am now sitting in her “new” interior room while the resident repairman hacks up the doorjamb trying to fix the slide bolt so she can lock her door. Of course this comes after the two electricians who were in to install lights in the bathroom....and they are working on getting us some mosquito nets... ahhhh! all in a day’s work!)

Last night after we arrived we took a walk with our Bangalore artist friend Jeetin. At the end of our road was not only a wedding in full swing, but also a techno-rock concert! It was tough to decide which one to crash, but we opted for the concert. However, it was for college students only and they wouldn’t let us in (hard to believe... TWO white females!! and they won’t let us in!?!?)

So we stood outside the gate and I began to dance... soon I was dancing with 20 or so college boys (Kata was hiding behind Jeet)... and before we knew it, one of the Security Guards came over and asked if we’d like to go into the concert (yes, we would, thank you!) He led us around to the VIP area right in front of the stage. The music was BLASTING! and I enjoyed it thoroughly... dancing and taking photos. The band’s name is “Fossil” and is “the BEST techno-rock band in Kolkata,” we were told... It seems that there will be another concert tomorrow night week and we, of course (now that we have established our reputation) are invited to it along with as many of our friends as we desire.

Time has slipped away from me today.... it’s already 3 pm and I’ve done very little. (Kata went out for a walk and some random man on the street exposed himself to her)... The repairman is finished, so I think I’ll head out into the streets myself...

Karavan stop #2 -- Kolkata

2010-03-23T00:45:00.000-07:00

We met a little girl in the streets and became friends. She took us to her home in the slums where her father was in traction (created by loving hands at home) and recovering from an auto accident.
One of the funniest things that we experienced were the nightly (hard) rock concerts down the road from our stadium hotel. Kata, Jeetin (artist from Bangalore) and I got invited in to the VIP area (to prevent me from dancing with the crowds outside)

Believe it or not, our "hotel" was housed beneath this crumbling stadium
in Kolkata. There were cockroaches 2" long and rats that regularly scurried through the halls, but we had private rooms with air conditioning and hot water! Home sweet home!Rules of dining area (see photo of dining area below)

The dining room... by the end of our week in the stadium, the environmentally conscious artists from Orissa had cleaned the room, painted the walls with lively designs and installed a sculpture that hung from the ceiling.

February 16, 2010 --Kolkatta

The train journey from Shantiniken to Kolkatta was 3 1/2 hours long and was highlighted by a dance through the train cars by Kata... the local passengers looked at us (her dancing, me filming) with surprise and smiles. It got more raucous when she did a dance over and around the seats filled with Art Karavan artists... good fun.

Our new quarters for the week are under a HUGE STADIUM in the Salt Lake section of Kolkatta... like the catacombs...numerous rooms and dormitories tucked along the circular hallway surrounding the stadium. However, our rooms are AIR CONDITIONED and relatively clean with western toilets and hot water! Can’t beat that! (Although some of the rooms host swarms of mosquitos and some huge cockroaches and there are a few rats scuttling down the hallways).

My room’s terrific because I’m by myself and can snore in solitude without worrying about disturbing any roommates. Kata has a room on the exterior of the building, however, and the mosquitos can’t be kept out. (So I am now sitting in her “new” interior room while the resident repairman hacks up the doorjamb trying to fix the slide bolt so she can lock her door. Of course this comes after the two electricians who were in to install lights in the bathroom....and they are working on getting us some mosquito nets... ahhhh! all in a day’s work!)

Last night after we arrived we took a walk with our Bangalore artist friend Jeetin. At the end of our road was not only a wedding in full swing, but also a techno-rock concert! It was tough to decide which one to crash, but we opted for the concert. However, it was for college students only and they wouldn’t let us in (hard to believe... TWO white females!! and they won’t let us in!?!?)

So we stood outside the gate and I began to dance... soon I was dancing with 20 or so college boys (Kata was hiding behind Jeet)... and before we knew it, one of the Security Guards came over and asked if we’d like to go into the concert (yes, we would, thank you!) He led us around to the VIP area right in front of the stage. The music was BLASTING! and I enjoyed it thoroughly... dancing and taking photos. The band’s name is “Fossil” and is “the BEST techno-rock band in Kolkata,” we were told... It seems that there will be another concert tomorrow night week and we, of course (now that we have established our reputation) are invited to it along with as many of our friends as we desire.

Time has slipped away from me today.... it’s already 3 pm and I’ve done very little. (Kata went out for a walk and some random man on the street exposed himself to her)... The repairman is finished, so I think I’ll head out into the streets myself...

Art Karavan begins!

2010-03-23T00:00:00.000-07:00

Art Karavan International 2010 kicked-off in Shantiniketan, India. Approximately 20 artists from India and around the world gathered together to travel and make art. Inder Salim, who conceived and organized the event, opens the show.
Loom in the texile department at Shantiniketan's school of art

Yarnbombed mom and baby in Pearson Village... it was amazing how a piece of yarn bound friendships

Art Karavan spent a day in Pearson Village painting, singing, dancing, talking, and laughing

My bracelet project was born in Shantiniketan where I yarnbombed the kids by makingthem bracelets

Beatrice Didier of Belgium and Kata Lengelyn of Hungary dance with and for the villagers

Namaste! Thank you for your friendship!

What started as a spur-of-the-moment gesture ended as a way to get to know many of the villagers at Pearson Village

Kata Lengyel of Hungary dancing in Pearson Village, a tribal community near Shantiniketan

A typical hut in Pearson Village near Shantiniketan... the houses were very neat and clean and many were painted with artistic designs

A group of my new friends showing off their bracelets. These girls sang and danced for us and were great fun.

Kata dancing through the train and passengers during train from Shantiniketan to Kolkata

Kata painting wall of home in Pearson Village. One of the Art Karavan artists is spreading artwork through the villages by engaging them in creative projects. During our day in the village, many of the artists worked alongside the villagers to paint the walls of several buildings. Many of the drawings were created by the children and artists in the village.

Chapati maker Shantiniketan. The town was quite small and easy to get around, so we enjoyed wandering to the local restaurants for chai and dinner.

View from train window on way to Shantiniketan where Art Karavan 2010 kicked-off

Adorable performers on train ... wanted money but we gave them a few songs instead!

Yarn bombed our bicycle rickshaw on way to Pearson Village, a tribal community near Shantiniketan

The rickshaw driver seemed to like his yarnbombed rickshaw

Into India

2010-03-22T23:30:00.000-07:00

Out of my hotel window at the Paramount Hotel
Me waiting at the train station...from Nepal to India

Kata and I stayed at the Paramount Hotel (a quite elegant hotel on a garbage strewn alleyway) in Calcutta -- which is known as Kolkata in India.
Our trip to New Market -- the shopping "mall" near our hotel -- was exhausting but interesting. To improve the ambience of the mall, the developers included a slaughterhouse and meat market attached to it. When you reached the shops adjacent to the meat market it was nearly impossible to breathe much less shop.

Women in Bondage at New Market, Kolkata, India.

Recycling Center in Kolkata

Had only read about pull rickshaws until Kolkata

Be Indian, Buy Indian

Beggar kids in Kolkata ...they are a fun bunch and we ended up joking around with them every time we were in New Market.

Adorable begger lady... later on I gave her a bracelet and she giggled at me whenever she saw me

Post -- Into India -- Feb 11, 2010 Exploring Transportation

I left Bhairahawa by bicycle rickshaw on February 8th and have been exploring Indian modes of transportation for the past three days. They still have people pulled rickshaws in Kolkata!! Have never seen them before... lots of them pulled around by muscular wirey little Indian guys.... must have muscles of steel!!

A quick review:

Day One

Bicycle rickshaw from Bhairahawa to Sunali (border of India ) 1 hr
Bus from Sunali to Gorakpur train station 2-3 hrs
Sitting in train station as featured attraction (only white person) 3 hrs
Overnight train from Gorakpur to Delhi 17 hrs

Highlights and Lowlights:

Loved the rickshaw ride... felt like a queen on my mobile throne because along my entire route people stopped whatever they were doing to stare and wave and yell “Hello!” or “Namaste!” I spent the hour smiling and waving and greeting them back.

Found out at the border town that Nepal can no longer be “Visa extension central” for tourists in India. Until recently could exit India when your Visa expired, run up to Nepal and get a new one, and return to India the same day. Now, if you exit India you have to stay out two months before returning. This is causing a GREAT STIR amongst travelers who have actually been living in India (some for years!) and getting their Visas extended as needed... they have houses and businesses in India... and now it seems they are going to have to stay away for two months each time their Visas expire.... saga to be continued.

Gorakpur train station is not the best place to hang out for three hours (especially when moving around requires lugging my backpack, etc. around). No place to sit for first hour so squatted on metal support for sign. The place was teeming with (very colorful and diverse!) humanity (as well as dogs and one cow that lazily wandered through the gate munching on garbage). I was marveling at the craziness of the place when I heard a voice calling “Hello! Hello! Remember me??” Sitting a short distance from me was a girl with her mother and grandmother. The girl looked slightly familiar (MOST people look slightly familiar... I’ve met soooo many!) She proceeds to tell me that she knows me from when I visited Pokura last year for my Himalayan trek... “in Lakeside, remember??” To make things even stranger, she tells me her husband is a French paraglider teacher... I asked if she knows Daphne (Irish volunteer that loves to paraglide)... she tells me she and her small daughter are close friends with Daphne and, in fact, Daphne had told me about this woman and her daughter!! Small world......

Pahar Ganj is always an experience but after a heavy rain it is incredible.... located close to the train station Pahar Ganj attracts lots of travelers to its narrow, winding streets (on which you can buy most anything from souvenirs to necessities to illegal substances). After a rain (and helped along by the road construction they are currently doing) the streets become muddy, slippery swamps. I checked into the Metropolis Hotel (verrrrrry upscale for my usual lodging as I’m meeting Kata, a first-timer in India from Hungary) and immediately headed for FOOD (I was famished! Had eaten very little in last 24 hours). Walk into the restaurant and order only to have the waiter say, “I remember you from last time you are here!” (TWO YEARS AGO! Incredible! Although I DID remember him because he was such a sweet and adorable waiter).

Since Kata hadn’t seen India at all yet (she arrived at 3 am or so), we spent the day wandering the muddy streets, shopping in and small shops, haggling and joking around with the shopkeepers and having an absolutely delightful time! (India hint number one: KEEP YOUR SENSE OF HUMOR and when in doubt, LAUGH!)

And then, small world event #3, I hear “Hello, Carol! Remember me from Kashmir??” I turn to find one of our stoner shukura (gondolin) drivers from Lake Dal ... the one I called “Baseball Cap” who sold snacks out of his boat. Turns out he now has a small shop in Parj Gangh (which he showed us)... invited us to come back later to relax but time slipped away and we didn’t make it back. Next time.

Day Two:

Taxi ride to airport at 7 am (before even the chai shops open) 1 hour
Wait in airport (NEW domestic airport... impressive!!!) 1 hour or so
Indigo Air flight to Kolkata (what we call Calcutta) 2 hours
Taxi ride to hotel 2 hours
Walk to “New Market” area for food and shopping Minutes

Highlights and Lowlights:

Taxi ride .... The taxi ride was definitely the lowlight of the day (although “New Market” and the “meat market” were definite runners-up!”) “Fixed Fare” cabs cost 370 rupees... so we had some guy offer us a “deal” of two for 300 rs.... except when we got to our bargain cab, there were two other passengers already in the cab (who had EACH paid 350 rs each... so I guess we did the best bargaining of the lot!) The guy explained that they were paying more because their hotels were further away and assured us it was “natural” to load four of us in the cab (yeah, normal for HIM who’s making 1000 rs on a 370 rs ride!).

Long story, short. The cabbie dropped the first guy off after about an hour at his hotel. Then he proceeded to stop at numerous other hotels trying to find a place for the second guy (at a hotel, of course, that would give the cabbie a kickback... “just 5 minutes, just 5 minutes!”) This went on for more than 30 minutes until Kata finally told the guy just to stay at the same hotel we’re staying at for 400 rs a night (Hotel Paramount, 33/4 Free School St, Kolkata 2229-0066... REALLY basic --bucket bath, no hot water, fairly frayed around the edges, but with TV! quite a few others nearby with hot water etc for 700 rs or so) Our cab mate agreed and we ended our taxi journey after two hours on the road. And then, of course, the cabbie insisted that I give him “a tip to feed his child”.... no... didn’t happen.

New Market ....Again, we were STARVING by the time we got there, so headed out to a local restaurant recommended by our hotel guy... it was delicious... and on to New Market -- a fairly new looking huge 3-story building jam-packed full of stalls with vendors hawking wares of every shape or form. Now, in some circumstances one might consider this bliss; but when you’re the only two white people there (and seem to have $$ signs flashing on your foreheads!) it’s a nightmare.

We had somehow picked up a “personal shopper” at the mall’s entrance who so kindly showed us to all the shops that gave HIM kickbacks (who evaporated into thin air after Kata tried on numerous shirts at one of his favorite booths but didn’t buy anything -- because the prices were exorbitant!!) We were also shadowed by a mother and baby beggar team asking for milk money, a deaf kid that seemed happy to show us around everywhere and wasn’t too push because he couldn’t talk (and didn’t seem to know sign language), and a young girl selling hairbands (not sure WHAT her gig was). Walking through the mall was like walking down a narrow alley at a county fair on crack with both sides being manned by hyped-up carneys desperate for their next score. Funny for awhile; nerve-wracking thereafter (and keep in mind, this is only Kata’s second day EVER in India.... freak-out time!)

The mall was divided in two... one side retail goods, the other a meat market/slaughterhouse. The meat market was pretty much done for the day, but I wandered in to take some bloody photos (meat markets being among my personal favorites for photos) and did so until my battery went out. By which time we were both exhausted and wanted to go to our hotel, but we had to: first, find the WAY out (dragging our mother and child, deaf kid, and hairband girl with us)... second, get past the carneys on crack trying to sell us “best quality pashminas of every color,” “top quality silver and gems,” and other indispensables (such as flutes, woven shopping bags, egg white whippers, etc, etc)... We managed eventually and headed to the nearest beer shop.

Beer Shop.... Buying alcohol in India is very odd in some places. Sometime you simply walk into a store and buy your beer or whatever. Other times, however, you must go to the “lock up” wine shop. These stores have a small entry area that is barred off like a PRISON from the sales area where the alcohol resides. There is a small hole through which you order and pass your rupees and, moments later, receive your change and bottles wrapped in newspaper. The country is teeming with closet drinkers who slink into the lock-up shops to make their furtive high-proof purchases.

We, of course, had the lock-up guys laughing and loving us by the time we purchased our vodka (first trip to window) and beer (second trip to the window within two minutes... we told them we had already finished the vodka and now needed beer...)

Hotel Home Returned to our hovel hotel, drank our beer, met artist Ondi from New York, and went to bed (I watched a National Geographic special about the horrible diseases of India... not a good idea! and a BBC special about a girl that got thrown in an Indian prison for smuggling drugs... another not-so-good viewing choice!)

Day Three

Taxi ride to train station 30 minutes
Wait at train station 2 hours
Train ride from Kolkatta to Shantiniketan (Shawn-teeny-kitten) 2 1/2 hours
Bicycle rickshaw ride train station to school campus 15 minutes
Bicycle rickshaw ride campus to well hidden Chinese (heavily-
influenced by Indian) restaurant 15 minutes
Long lunch of chowmein and noodle soup and Manchurian something 2 hours
Bicycle rickshaw ride back to our room (in “visiting faculty” room --
sleeps three.... my poor friends will have to put up with my
snoring.... but all have to contend with the voracious mosquitos) 15 minutes

Highlights and Lowlights

Lodgings Kata, Ondi and I are in the special triple room (as compared with the dormitory)... three beds with hole-y mosquito nets (and these mosquitos mean business!.... my legs are already bitten and itchy!!) Squat toilet, can carry hot buckets up from downstairs, no towels, no toilet paper (and we forgot to buy some... so depending on small packs of Kleenex from home)

Town Walked into town... met an amazing man that makes musical instruments... tiny single-stringed banjos from coconuts, drums, and guitars. He performed while we watched and shot video and photos and danced a bit... until the crowd of locals got too large to be comfortable any longer.... moved on to.... chapati man!

Chapati man ran a small restaurant and sat and made chapati after chapati after chapati while an ancient man made chai for the customers and another man served the food. The chapatis were delicious and the potato-y food they served to eat with it scrumptious! Lovely time making friends and shooting photos.... and then on to.... boob man!

We got some cough medicine, mosquito coils and I found the coolest batik hankerchiefs... while I was there, Kata looked at some shirts at the stall across the road...and while the young shopkeeper was showing her the shirts, he grabbed her boob! Now, what was he thinking!?!? She probably would have bought the shirt... instead he got a good slap and lost a customer! Sexual repression is a serious problem here if people are sacrificing their livelihood to squeeze a stranger’s boob! Freaked Kata out, of course... (although I had warned her that some of the young girls had had guys grope them with some regularity) ... never a good thing to be accosted by strangers!

Returned “home” to find a few artists had arrived (including Marisa, a lovely fun lady from Argentina/London, that I know from Bodh Gaya and her daughter).... will catch up with their details tomorrow.

Till then.... gotta go escape the mosquitos as best I can... I’m currently sitting out in the hallway using my computer while it’s charging, my FLIP video charging via my computer, and my camera battery charging. Thought my phone was broken but took the battery out and put back in to resuscitate it.... thought my FLIP was broken but the NEW batteries I bought are defective.... thought my camera batteries were ruined but I think the electric current in Kolkata was weak... I’m turning into a regular techno-whiz here!!

Make your reservations now at the Mosaic Garden!

2010-02-06T21:21:00.001-08:00

The (proposed) Mosaic Garden contains three main features -- The Wedding Arch (where newlyweds can sit on a bench and get their photos taken), the Photo Steps and Benches (where the hoards of family members can line up on steps and get their photos taken), and the Performance Stage (where all the gala wedding rituals and dances take place). The three areas can be adapted to similar but alternate uses when, instead of a wedding, the Gardens are hosting receptions, meetings or workshops. The three areas are connected by 81 24” diameter mosaic stepping stones (of our workshop’s original design, of course) and the feature walls in all of the 3 main areas will also feature mosaics.

It’s a LOVELY concept, but when you actually see our back yard (above is existing backyard where Performance Stage will be constructed) and have experienced how long EVERYTHING takes to implement in Nepal, you’d probably say this “Mosaic Garden” will be completed........well.... never.

Still, it’s worth a dream!

Plan of Presentation Stage -- perfect platform for weddings, receptions and workshops (as well as a great place to dance and sing!)

Wedding Arch site (with foundation dug and filled with rock and sand and bamboo pole indicating approximate height of wedding arch. We are on a ROLL already!!!! UK Volunteer Hazel Fullerton is the designer of the arch.

Wedding Arch plans... makes you want to tie the knot just so you can sit under the arch!!

Photo Steps and Benches site (with house I live in -- orange and yellow one -- in the background. (LARGE tarp draped over lower story was erected after vet said our 3 dogs needed a warmer place to sleep!)

Photo Steps and Benches.... THIS is the favorite of all the artists.... “Very beautiful, M’am! Very beautiful!”

And these lovely drawings were drawn in my high tech office behind the mosaic workshop, next to the (rather pitiful) vegetable garden in the midst of the future, “verrrry, verrry beautiful” Mosaic Garden of Bhairahawa, Nepal!

Last year in Bhairahawa, Nepal, I taught art, English and iris folding (greeting card making). This year, I drew blueprints of the property (who says volunteers aren’t multi-talented!!) and the proposed “mosaic garden” in the back yard that will (we hope and theorize) be an ideal place to hold weddings, receptions, meetings, and workshops. Last year’s tasks were a PIECE OF CAKE compared to drawing these plans.

I almost gave up and simply called it quits quite a few times because:

I had to measure the property, buildings, gardens, etc. using a 10’ seamstress’s tape (because our one big tape was being used for mosaic installations...after a hundred of so feet at 10’ increments, concentration and accuracy just drift away into the B’wa dusk)
I eventually succeeded in getting a t-square and a couple angles, some large tracing paper, and masking tape. What I DIDN’T get was an architect’s scale (that allows you to convert feet into inches... thus I ended up doing A LOT of tedious math by PENCIL -- no calculators here!)
And most challenging (beyond the impossibility of getting an eraser that actually ERASES without leaving horrible gray smudges behind) was to complete the drawings before they became absolutely filthy, ripped, wrinkled, or dumped upon!

After measuring the property with the help of fellow volunteer Daphne, I took my (incredibly intricately dimensioned) sketch to my “drawing board” (an old cupboard door, I think, complete with one remaining hinge)

Sketch resulting from our initial measuring

Within MOMENTS of taping a beautiful clean sheet of white drawing paper to the board (with brown packaging tape), one of the mosaic artists decided to oil his cutting pliers ON MY BOARD, leaving a big blotch of oil in the center of the paper and ruining one of my precious pieces of paper.

(I drew a skull and crossbones on that sheet and it remained as the sheet covering the board each and every time I left the table from then on... it worked!)

Next I discovered that our two parcels are not square; the ends are the same measurement but the sides are not. There is NO WAY for me to determine what angle goes on each end (without a surveyor and THAT ain’t happenin’! I can’t even get a scale!) After puzzling over it for awhile, I took a deep breath and sketched the angles as close as I could determine by looking over the edges of the roofs.

The rest of the drawing documenting existing structures and conditions went fairly fast; I was feeling good... until I went to transfer the drawing to tracing paper and found that someone had squashed my roll of tracing paper and it had several creases running through its length. (Arghhh! If I hate nothing else, I hate wrinkles... especially in paper -- although clothing is a close second... just ask my kids... I HATE WRINKLES and here I was stuck with nothing to use EXCEPT wrinkled paper.!)

I think the arrival of masking tape saved the day; at least I wouldn’t have to tape my wrinkled paper down using packaging tape (that rips the face off most papers). I counted my blessings as I taped my creased paper onto my board.

The result (although smudged by the erasers that don’t erase and the t-square sliding over the pencil marks from pencils that contain graphite on steroids, leaving the entire sheet a dirty gray) was amazingly good.

Existing Property

By now I was on a roll -- the skull and crossbones scared everyone away from my drafting board.... I’d resigned myself to the tools I had.... and I was learning to be one with wrinkles (personal growth at its best).

So over the next week, I created plans for:

THE MOSAIC GARDEN -- PHOTO #1 ABOVE

It’s a LOVELY concept, but when you actually see our back yard and have experienced how long EVERYTHING takes to implement in Nepal, you’d probably say this “Mosaic Garden” will be completed........ never.

Still, it’s worth a dream!

The Mosaic Garden contains three main features -- The Wedding Arch (where newlyweds can sit on a bench and get their photos taken), the Photo Steps and Benches (where the hoards of family members can line up on steps and get their photos taken), and the Performance Stage (where all the gala wedding rituals and dances take place). The three areas can be adapted to similar but alternate uses when, instead of a wedding, the Gardens are hosting receptions, meetings or workshops. The three areas are connected by 81 24” diameter mosaic stepping stones (of our workshop’s original design, of course) and the feature walls in all of the 3 main areas will also feature mosaics.

SEE THE BEFORE PHOTOS & PLANS ABOVE

And the lovely drawings were drawn in my high tech office (see photo above) behind the mosaic workshop, next to the (rather pitiful) vegetable garden in the midst of the future, “verrrry, verrry beautiful” Mosaic Garden of Bhairahawa, Nepal!

So the plans are finished (in the nick of time! I leave for India on Monday!) and ready to be shipped up to Kathmandu for Phillip (head of the charity) to look over, admire and (I hope!) implement. I’m sure there are many opportunities for supporters to sponsor a stepping stone, wedding arch, stage, photo steps, or one of the numerous mosaics that will grace the garden.... so if interested, give me a holler and I’ll direct you to the appropriate person!

And even better.... any weddings or meetings or workshops in your future?!?! Better get your venue scheduled now!!! Bhairahawa’s Mosaic Garden is the up-and-coming place to have it!!!

Multitasking in the Shower (fun, fun!!)

2010-02-04T18:16:00.000-08:00

Washing laundry in Nepal is as easy as a morning bucket bath!

1. Heat up a couple pans of water on the propane stove (probably in the dark because mornings aren't very popular with electricity)

2. Dump boiling water in the bucket and lug it upstairs to the "bathroom" (no bath, of course, and rarely an operable shower, or if the shower is operable it features only icy water)

3. Gather together all your shower necessities -- soap, towel, scrub brush, shampoo, cream rinse, etc, etc -- as well as your dirty laundry and some laundry detergent.

4. Put your laundry in the wash basin (about 3' in diameter with the laundry soap)

5. Add enough cold water to your bucket to make it the PERFECT shower temperature.

6. Stand in the wash basin and dump water over your head and body with some smaller implement (a pan, a plastic container, etc)... lather up and rinse, letting all the sudsy water run off your body into the wash basin

7. When there is enough water in the wash basin, start up the washing machine by marching in the wash basin while you finish up washing and rinsing yourself. Agitate the water with your marching feet until the water is the color of mud

8. Exit the wash basin, grab your towel and dry off, and then scrub the "particular nasty parts" of your laundry with your little scrub brush.

9. Dump water into the toilet, "cleaning the toilet" to its sparkling best with the muddy water.

10. Rinse clothes repeatedly in icy water until the water stays relatively clear and free of soap (usually 2-3 times or until your desire from really clean clothes and/or patience runs thin). Alternate dumping the rinse water on the floor (after which you squeegee the floor nice and clean) or in the toilet (always can use another cleansing)

11. Squeeze as much water out of the clothes as possible, run them up to the clothesline on the rooftop and hang them on the provided rope line (avoid the wire line.... it leaves rusty lines on your clothes)

12. Wait for 1/2 a day (in sunny times) or up to a week (in foggy times) for your clothes to dry.

13. Repeat process every day (unless the water goes out for 3 days.... that makes it more difficult because you have to lug your rinse water from the pump next door... easier just to stay a bit dirtier than usual)

I'll take photos of the process and add to this blog as soon as I take another "shower"!

Installing a big mosaic on HIGH!

2010-02-03T07:58:00.000-08:00

Not a bad placee to install a LARGE mosaic... just stand on the railing and table and all is good! Tule, Sunita, Man and Prakash have everything under control!

Well, I guess it requires a bit more balancing than we had anticipated. Thank goodness, Bunnu is supervising!

Forgot to mention, this is all happening about 30 feet above the concrete below...

Volunteer Hazel and I selected the (only suitable without being suicidal to the installers, we thought) site to hang the workshop's latest and greatest mosaic -- on the balcony wall of the workshop. The process SEEMED simple enough:

1. Layout where the piece is going to go and square it up (using a broken level and homemade plumb bob -- clippers tied to end of string)

2. Roughen the surface where the piece is going to be installed and smear entire area with cement (obscuring all the markings that were there to make sure the piece is hung plumb and square)

3. Carry the LARGE (3'6" x 4'6" or so) and HEAVY (this is cut up floor tile adhered to mesh) mosaic up the stairs, onto the balcony.

4. While balancing on the balcony railing, HEAVE the (floppy) mosaic up and smash it into the concrete (while trying to position it plumb and level without any marks....Frantic installers, "Carol, sister! Is this Ok???!!".... "How can I see anything, you're all standing in front of it!!"... All together, nearing panic, teetering on railing's edge, "Hurry, sister! Is this OK!???!?!?" .... Me, shoving a piece of plywood up to them along with a brick, "Oh, my God! Be careful! I'm sure it's perfect" )

5. While still balancing on the railing and tables, the installers heave a piece of plywood over the mosaic and start pounding on it with a large brick to adhere it (I have it on video!... just can't get the blog to upload it!)

6. Once it's stuck, installers pray to the powers that be that it won't fall down before it dries enough to be grouted. (Volunteers thank the powers that be that all have survived the installation)

And so we have another OSHA approved job completed in Nepal....

Yarn Bombing in Nepal!

2010-02-03T07:36:00.000-08:00

Finally did some yarn bombing (guerrilla installation of pieces of crochet) here in Nepal...hilarious!

Bicycle Rickshaw Bombing.... When the rickshaw driver walked up and saw me "bombing" his rickshaw, he stood there as if it was like any other normal event of the day... when I finished, he stood back, looked it over, approved it and then rode away on his bicycle rickshaw... As he pedaled away the yarn blended into the colorful surroundings as if it was just another patch of the Nepali fabric of (very colorful) life... And then another bicycle rickshaw pulled up and gestured me to do his rickshaw, too! Gotta love it!!

Market days in Bhairahawa, Nepal

2010-01-31T04:42:00.000-08:00

Nothin' like some good old bloody fish to whet the appetite!

Fresh fish (from where???)

Fresh vegetables of every form, color and taste can be found at the market

Spices vendors line the streets of the market...

Spices, spices, and more spices....

Coriandor and woven plate vendor

Hot chillies of every shape and form can be found at the market.

The biggest challenge at market day is deciding which of the vendors will have the tastiest and cheapest food (without giving you the trots!)

The market is the cheapest and tastiest place to eat. For $1-$2 you can fill up from the streetside food vendors

Buses decorated to the hilt are loaded to the hilt with produce headed to and from the twice-weekly market

Market day occurs twice each week -- on Sunday and Thursday -- in Bhairahawa. Vendors invade a large section of town to sell goods of all shapes, sizes, tastes, and colors. You can buy almost anything there from bras and panties to pots and pans to fresh bloody fish to colorful sari fabrics to fragrant spices to fresh vegetables to shoes, shirts, pants, socks and washcloths. The vendors line both sides of the streets and masses of humanity squeeze through the narrow dusty space in between.

But even with all the material competition, white faces are still a fascinating sideshow to the vendors and customers crowding the market. We are also an opportunity to double or triple or quadruple the prices being asked for the various goods. Haggling is essential if we are to even COME CLOSE to what locals pay for anything!

But the market is a must-see for anyone visiting Bhairahawa (as is the mosaic workshop!)

Mosaics from the Bhairahawa Workshop

2010-01-31T00:22:00.000-08:00

Elephant

Shiva

Lord Buddha

Hanuman

Ganesh

Last year I volunteered for five months in Esther Benjamins Trust's (EBT's) Bhairahawa mosaic workshop and designed some mosaics featuring Hindu Gods and Buddha. I left before they were completed, so when I returned this year I was delighted to see how they had come out. Here are a few of the completed pieces (please excuse the quality of the photos.... I'll try to take better ones before I leave)

Hetauda Refuge and Workshop Adventure

2010-01-31T00:19:00.002-08:00

The wild and wonderful kids at EBT's Hetauda refuge. After only 3 1/2 days at the refuge, I was completely in love with the entire bunch and sooooo wanted to stay and teach them English and play, play, play with them. Unfortunately, duties call from Bhairahawa.

Regina, a favorite of all of the volunteers, came to the refuge because her grandmother is dying of cancer, her mother remarried and abandoned her, and her father is dead. Despite all tragedy in her short life, she is an absolute charmer!

After a busy day, Daphne and I explored the surrounding neighborhood. We played badminton with the local kids, made friends with the shopkeepers, and found a restaurant that cooked up delicious momos! Life is good!

Daphne completed a crash course in teaching English and paper bead making. After 3 days, she is on her own and doing great!

The former circus girls took to paper bead making with gusto! Within 3 days they were making paper beads and creating beautiful necklaces that we hope can be sold in Kathmandu and the UK

Jamuna and I became great friends and she turned out to be an excellent assistant in English classes for the younger kids

In a matter of days, I (center) made friends with the former circus girls -- now, paper bead necklace makers -- in Hetauda

Volunteer Daphne (left) became a paper bead teacher thanks to Hazel (right) in a matter of days! Go, Daphne!

Teaching the circus girls some English that will come in handy during paper bead and greeting card making was fun and the girls loved it!

Hazel Fullerton (in turquoise shirt) teaches rescued circus girls and volunteer Daphne (lower right) how to make paper beads to be used in necklaces. Daphne and the girls caught on quickly and made a beautiful necklace the first day. By day 3 they were cranking them out as fast as we could cut the paper. If anyone wants to send some glass or wood beads or Fimo clay for making clay beads to the workshop, it would be GREATLY appreciated. Send them to: Esther Benjamins Memorial Foundation, Makawnpur District, Hetauda-4, Kamaldande, Nepal

The kids in Hetauda chowing down on dahl baat (rice, lentil soup and veggies) just after all had their hair washed and put on clean outfits.

This week was busy and interesting. Three of us (Hazel Fullerton, UK volunteer extraordinaire that I volunteered with last year; Daphne, first-time Irish volunteer; and I, US artist, volunteer and traveler) made the five-hour (bumpy, bouncy) drive from Bhairahawa to Hetauda, Nepal, to set up some programs for Daphne to teach and check the place out as Hazel and Sue Thornton (another wonderful UK volunteer that I worked with last year) are going to be working there for a month or so starting at the end of February.

Hetauda is a town similar (a bit larger and more manufacturing based maybe??) in size to Bhairahawa (a town about the size of Ravenna, Ohio, which will mean something to a few of you but nothing to most).

We arrived in early afternoon and were delighted by the refuge, workshop and people in Hetauda. The facility is funded by the Esther Benjamins Trust (EBT) out of the UK (a wonderful organization dedicated to helping all sorts of maginalized, abused, and neglected children in Nepal! check it out!) The refuge had taken in 10 kids aged from maybe 4 to 12 recently that are orphans or from families that are unable to care for them properly. I expected them to be sad about leaving their friends, family and/or village, but they were a happy, rambunctious bunch of kids playing ball and running around chasing one another.

There are also 6-8 former circus girls (girls rescued from abusive Indian circuses ... many had been sold by their parents... or they let their young daughters go to work in the circuses because the owner’s promised to educate and employ the girls but then disappeared into India never to be heard of again until EBT rescued them.... the circus girl trade has been virtually stopped thanks to EBT) at the Hetauda facility. They had been doing sewing and producing products (I think handbags?? maybe other clothing??) for a woman with a shop in the UK, but that closed down a year or so again and the girls can’t compete with the MANY local tailors around Nepal).

Hazel thought producing jewelry using paper beads would be an ideal product for the workshop to produce. It’s all the better because Sue has been training the circus girls in Bhairahawa to make iris folded greeting cards (beautiful things! Check them out! SUE-- give us a link to the site where your cards are shown!) that also use manipulated papers. The two things go PERFECT together.

Hazel taught the 6 girls and Daphne to make the beads in about an hour and they had created a beautiful necklace by the end of the day. They were thrilled! During the next two days, their skill improved, more circus girls showed up (word must have gone out that something cool was happening in the workshop!), the staff women participated enthusiastically (which will ensure continuity if they continue to help out) and some very nice necklaces were produced.

In conjunction with the workshop, we started teaching the girls basic English that will come in handy in the workshop and we started learning some Nepalese. Again, very enthusiastic! Everyone participated and we were all superstar volunteers! Love iT! Daphne. although a little nervous, was ready and willing to take charge of the jewelry making and English lessons for the older girls.

Meanwhile, I started planning an English program for the younger kids. Daphne and I observed an English lesson presented by Rita, on the EBT staff. She made it clear that she’d HAPPILY turn over English lessons to us. I had brought the large cardboard instructional sheets I had used to teach the deaf kids last year in Bhairahawa and Daphne and I mapped out a teaching strategy she could use until Hazel and Sue (both EXCELLENT and FUN English teachers) arrive.

Daphne and I taught one class together and the kids LOVED it! Having fun while they learn English is always my strategy and they did! The next day I was leaving for Bhairahawa and Daphne was on her own. The kids showed up EARLY (usually half an hour late) and Daphne took charge. She texted that her first solo lesson went wonderfully.

The kids were terrific and the program set-up went smoothly. Meanwhile, we were treated like absolute royalty. The food in Hetauda is fantastic! We told them that dahl baat is tough for us to take in the morning and the next day we were treated to eggy toast (aka, French toast) with our morning tea. We are usually protein deprived in our diet, but the Hetauda cooks served up CHICKEN (which I think was their pet before we hungry volunteers arrived) along with our lunch of rice and two kinds of vegetables spiced to perfection. Dinner consisted of rotis (like pita bread), rice, daal, and a couple nice vegetable creations. They use vegetables that they grow in the gardens that surround the buildings.

The guest room had an attached bathroom with flush toilet (that didn’t really flush without dumping a bucket down it... but provided a comfortable perch, at least) and sink (that worked) and shower (that didn’t work... but there’s a bucket to use.) The only bad thing about the place is that the water is absolutely FREEZING until the water tank on the roof warms up in the afternoon. So any cleaning up in the morning is done with FRIGIDLY COLD water (I washed my hair one morning and my head ACHED from the cold... they must get their water straight from the snow peaks of the surrounding mountains.)

After classes were over for the day, Daphne and I explored the surrounding neighborhood and within a couple days were playing badminton with the local kids, chatting with the shopkeepers (our attempts at speaking Nepali were met with great hilarity!) and had discovered an excellent momo restaurant a short distance away. Life is good!

Everyone was soooo nice, I really wanted to stay and teach English for the next 3 months, but duty calls.... need to draw up a blueprint for the Mosaic Garden in Bhairahawa and then I head off to India Feb 8th to participate in Art Karavan International, a two-month traveling art event that will stop in 9 towns in 8 weeks and we’ll all to art and interact with the people of northern India.

So, I said my good-byes after promising to come back if at all possible sometime in the future!

Photos from Bhairahawa, Nepl

2010-01-30T20:23:00.000-08:00

Fruit stand in Bhairahawa

Tailors working next to fruit stand in downtown Bhairahawa, Nepal

Morning outside our back deck... foggy, foggy, foggy...

Downtown Bhairahawa, Nepal

This lady looked like a haystack walking. She carries a similar load past our house each day to feed her buffalo or cow.

The site of ladies with their heads loaded with everything from dung (this lady) to bricks to sticks to large masses of hay or branches to sacks of potatoes and other things is common in Nepal. (Every once in awhile the men will pitch in!)

In and around the town of Bhairahawa (which is just a few miles from the Indian border) are small villages like this one.

Our twice daily diet of dahl baat (rice, watery lentil soup and usually overcooked vegetables) makes the fruit stands a welcome visiting spot. The oranges are delicious (although fairly expensive at 10 rupies each (there are 70 rupies to a dollar).

January mornings can be foggy and verrrrry chilly. While I resort to my long underwear and lots of layers of clothes, many people build small fires and gather around them for a morning chat. These ladies giggled and chatted while I took their photo and a large crowd gathered around us to admire the photo and the ladies' celebrity status.

Although Bhairahawa is fairly prosperous (despite the fact that they only have electricity around 11 hours each day), there is definitely a class system. This lady is obviously very poor but she gave me a big smile when I greeted her with "Namaste!" and snapped her photo.

Vegetable vendors line the streets of Bhairahawa

Married Lady (as indicated by red stripe on head)

Cute kid

A Typical Day in Bhairahawa, Nepal

2010-01-30T04:05:00.000-08:00

Post 4 -- Sunday, January 24th

A Typical Day in Bhairahawa, Nepal

You awaken to either the honking buses and truck as they rumble down the dirt street in front of our house or the shrill serenade of our three dogs in yapping concert with the neighboring dogs (in particular, the little white yip-yip-yippy dog across the street that Hazel admitted to fantasizing about how best to do away with it without its owners knowledge).

You open your eyes to a rosy pink world and then realize that, in fact, the day has once again dawned foggy, damp and cold and the rose color is the mosquito net encasing your bed. Your mattress is a 2” thick piece of foam on a wooden platform covered in aging cloth. You lay cuddled beneath the heavy blanket dreading the time you’ll have to move from its warmth into the chill of the morning.

At 7:30 am (fairly promptly) the hall door slams and one of the deaf girls cheerily delivers a small cup of steaming milky chai to your bedside. Only then is there enough incentive to extend your bare hand from beneath the covers. You wiggle to a seated position (still cocooned in your blankets) and sip the sweet, spicy tea (but the cup is so small that you’re finished in a couple gulps and the only way to get something else hot to drink is to get out of bed and fix it yourself... either by heating up the electric teapot -- if there’s electricity -- or going downstairs to the kitchen and heating a pan of water up on the propane stove... neither of which sounds too tempting at the time).

But, inevitably, you have to get out of bed. Breakfast (leftover dal baht from dinner... an unappetizing meal of rice over which you pour some thin lentil soup accompanied by a small mound of vegetables -- usually potatoes and cauliflower) is served at 8 am or so. Since we got a stove installed for volunteers (last year), I choose to skip morning dal bhat and, instead, fry up some bread and eggs -- ”eggy bread” as the UK volunteers call them. Sometimes I treat myself to a chunk of cheese or a spoon of extra crunchy peanut butter from the stash I brought with me. (You become severely protein deprived on the local diet and crave anything rich in protein.)

Then it’s time for a “shower.” Ugh! The thought of stripping out of the numerous layers of socks, long underwear, pants, shirts and fleeces is many mornings more than you can bear (so you simply wash your face and call yourself clean). But after a day or two you feel so disgustingly dirty that you bite the bullet and have a wash.

Some volunteers take cold showers; I don’t. I heat up a big pan of water on the stove, dump it into a bucket, take it upstairs to the bathroom, strip down, stand in a big washtub, dump glasses of water on myself, lather up, rinse off, and hurriedly dry myself off and get dressed again before I turn into a block of ice. I save the bathwater in the washtub and my socks and underwear and other clothes that are completely filthy (it takes 3-4 days for anything to dry, so you wash things only when critical.) You hang your clothes on the clothesline on the roof (and pray that the dogs don’t eat them; Tiger ate a huge hole in one of my two pairs of $20 ski socks I brought along on the third day I was here...NOT impressed!) After washing your clothes, you dump the bucket on the floor, and squeegee the floor clean and if you have an extra bucket, you throw it down the toilet to “clean” it. Efficient morning’s work!

Then you get on with your day. I’m a volunteer for Esther Benjamins Trust out of the UK, a group that rescues abused kids from desperate home situations, the Indian circuses (where they are physically, sexually and/or psychologically abused) and jails (where kids actually go with their inmate mothers) as well as helps deaf kids and young adults (who are marginalized and shunned in Nepal). I work with deaf young adults and a few former circus girls in a refuge in Bhairahawa, a town about the size of Ravenna located a few miles from the Indian border. (You can check them out on their website... google Esther Benjamins).

We run a mosaic workshop here. Last year we got it running and this year it seems to be buzzing right along thanks to the talented Mark Wood from the UK (who is leaving on Sunday unfortunately; hope the next volunteer will carry on as well). We do mosaics for sale (I’ll attach photos at some point) as well as wall mosaics which now adorn both sides of the front wall of the workshop as well as many of the walls between classrooms at the Deaf School.... really wonderful scenes of local life. Since installing them on our front wall the (previously marginalized) deaf artists have become quite the stars of the town!

Power is on approximately 11 hours each day (in 2-4 hour chunks sprinkled throughout the 24-hour period seemingly at random each day). So, you plan any power-dependent activity (Internet use, banking/ATM use, drawing, reading, writing, etc) around the electricity or lack thereof. Of course, we always keep a good supply of candles on hand and working by candlelight or flashlight is quite an adventure in itself.

Lunch consists of a bowl of noodles or a stack of 8 or so crackers and a cup of milky sugary spicy tea (or chai). Again, we usually spread peanut butter or sardines that we get from the “western store” on our crackers for the protein.

Last year the mosaic artists and I played soccer every afternoon, but alas, this year they are into production and making money so the games are off. The volunteers usually walk or bicycle into town for food or beer or other essentials, use the internet if it happens to be on, read, write, or hang out with the kids or each other.

The “white house” is located down the street from the workshop (“blue house”) and houses young orphans or neglected kids under the care of EBT. It’s great to go down to the white house and play with the kids. Almost every night they dance and, since I love to dance, I go there as often as possible. Last time one of the boys (around 11 years old) did an entire Michael Jackson/Bollywood production with me as his understudy, mimicking each of his moves. The kids and housemothers were laughing so hard they could hardly breathe. But at the end, one of the little girls came up to me and said, “Sister! You are a very good dancer!” Hahahaha!
Dinner is dal bhat (more rice and soup and vegetables) unless it’s a special occasion (like one of the volunteers leaving) and then we have feasts of momos (similar to Chinese steamed dumplings), pekoras (fried dough with potatoes and veggies inside), and other tasty Nepalese dishes. If you can’t face dal bhat, you can always go downtown to Pizza King (which serves mostly Chinese and Nepali dishes but also actually has pizza) or other fancy hotel restaurants with westernized dishes (even chicken and meat without bones permeating it!)

After dinner we get together for a beer or cocktail, talk about the many extraordinary events that we’ve experienced that day (such as a man in a business suit riding in a bicycle rickshaw talking on his cellphone while holding a goat!), plan the next day’s activities and plotting how we’ll ever get the required materials to accomplish them, share stories and laugh a lot.

Since it gets dark at 5 pm or so, we (at least me!) usually head to bed and a book by between 9 and 11 pm. At this time of year, I leave most of my clothes on (or add a layer or two), climb under my heavy covers in my mosquito net tent, and read until I fall asleep to a lullaby of honking cars and trucks and howling dogs.

And so ends a typical in my life in Bhairahawa, Nepal.

Return to Bhairahawa

2010-01-30T01:26:00.000-08:00

The mosaics are created on mesh and then cemented to the wall before being grouted. The wall is scored and sanded and then adhered to the wall with the perfect mix of concrete and sand. Here, UK artist Mark Wood works with concrete expert Tule and three of the deaf artists (R-L starting beneath Mark's arm) Ganesh, Shiva and Prakash.

Bhairahawa has a large school for the deaf (which is supported by Ester Benjamins Trust that I'm volunteering for). This year our mosaic artists created panels featuring animals of Nepal and installed them on the walls between the classrooms in the new addition to the school. These are two of the kids being amazed and delighted by the new installation.

Tiger the dog won a place in our hearts and the mosaic wall by surviving a very traumatic puppyhood. I ended up as Tiger's surrogate mother last year when another volunteer brought home the tiny mangy puppy that local kids had been using as a football. We thought she'd live a day or two at most, but she made it through MANY brushes with death and is now a healthy big dog with a permanent home at the workshop.

This is one of the mosaics of Bhairahawa scenes that adorn the front wall of our compound. It was created by the deaf artists and rescued circus girls under the direction of UK artist Mark Wood. The creations have made our "kids" superstars around the town (instead of looked down upon). the townspeople stop and admire their work every day as they walk by.

This is another panel in front of the workshop. We are trying to turn the grounds into a Mosaic Garden for weddings, workshops and other events. It would be beautiful if all of the wall could be decorated with Bhairahawa mosaics. Funding is the problem, though, so if anyone would like to sponsor a panel, let me or Ester Benjamins Trust know! (I'm sure you'll even get a plaque next to it!!)

Post 3 -- Friday, January 22, 2010

Coming back to Bhairahawa and the mosaic workshop is like coming to a completely new place but with many of the same faces and fixtures and food...so much is different -- no English classroom, no Iris Folding, no daily soccer matches, regular picnics or dances. Nine of the girls and two of the boys are gone and, or course, all of the volunteers are different with the exception of Hazel and me. And since I’m only here for three weeks instead of five months, it doesn’t seem right to inject myself into the newly established setup. Hazel will be the one who turns the workshop over to the new volunteer who is coming a couple weeks after the current volunteer, Mark Wood, leaves... so she has the responsibility of getting up to speed on the current direction of the workshop. (For those who are unfamiliar with this place... it's a mosaic workshop for deaf young adults and “circus girls” -- girls rescued from abusive Indian circuses--run by Esther Benjamins Trust out of the UK... terrific group...check them out if you’re interested in supporting a good cause or volunteering in Nepal)

Instead of the small mosaics that could be sold to tourists to carry home (that we were focusing on last year), the mosaics workshop is cranking out large-scale murals to install here at the campus and at the nearby deaf school -- beautiful scenes of local life... the momo man, bicycle rickshaws, women dressed in colorful saris, men squatting around fires having a chat. The deaf school murals feature animals of Nepal -- tigers, water buffalo, long-horned sheep and strange armadillo-like creatures. I just love them! However, unless we obtain funding to continue with these, we probably won’t be able to continue with them...

The latest plan is to turn our yard into a sort of mosaic garden where weddings, workshops, and other gatherings can hold receptions. Our leader, Philip Holmes, wants me to draw up a blueprint of the property with plans for the garden, which I’m happy to do IF we can find some basic drafting supplies here in Bhairahawa (large paper, t-square, triangle, architect’s scale, etc)... we’ll see.

I’m planning to travel to one of the other refuges in Hetauda with two volunteers (Hazel, who I worked with last year) and Daphne (a volunteer from Ireland) on Tuesday to scope out the place. Daphne, Hazel and Sue Thornton (who I also volunteered with last year) are going to be there for a couple months so we thought it would be good to check it out and see who is there, what ages they are, what types of things will be most beneficial for them, etc.

Meanwhile, it is FREEZING here... damp, foggy and COLD!!! Clothes take DAYS to dry and I had to wash my long underwear and jeans today (they were getting MUCH too disgusting!) so I’m shivering through the day looking forward to bedtime and my warm covers!

Sightseeing in Kathmandu

2010-01-20T23:22:00.000-08:00

Monday, Jan 17, 3;02 am

I’m in a travel time warp... My days and nights are still askew from the 50-some hour Cleveland-to-Kathmandu trip (complete with a 3 1/2 hr layover in Chicago and 16-hour layover/delayed flight in Abu Dhabi)

I’m in Kathmandu right now taking advantage of what may well be the last access to wireless internet for awhile. I leave at 7 am this morning for Bhairahawa (near the Indian border; where I volunteered with the deaf/abused artists last year) which tends to be lacking in electricity (not to mention internet)

I’m staying at the Esther Benjamin’s Trust office in Kathmandu with Megan (a staffer) and Naomi (a volunteer). Arrived Saturday evening and spent Sunday hoofing for miles around the city with Megan, climbing an historic tower, visiting a retro palace and eating delicious Israeli food.

Bhimsen Tower is a modern-day stairmaster that was built in 1825 AD by the then-queen to make important announcements to the citizenry. I’m not really clear how these messages were broadcast as the tower’s circular platform is nearly 200 feet (or 213 steps!) above ground zero (not to mention that the original tower was even higher than the current 1936 edition, which is a replacement built after an earthquake tumbled its predecessor).

I figured the 300 rs entry fee (about $4.50) was well worth the free workout. By the time I made it up the 213 steps, I had stripped my coat, sweater and scarf, was dripping sweat, and huffing and puffing... nice workout! From the circular platform, the city of Kathmandu’s cacophony of roofs and traffic-clogged roads crawled away until disappearing into the low-lying smog. The view was terrific and the trip DOWN the steps was heaven.

Next stop (following a miles-long trek through people packed streets... dodging careening cars and homicidal motorcycles at every crossing) was Nepal’s Palace Museum -- a retro wonder where the royal family was massacred in 2001.

The Crown Prince at the time got in a tiff with his family over their refusal to allow him to marry the princess of his dreams and ran amok, staging a Shakespearian palace massacre. In the palace with an automatic assault rifle, the enraged and drunken Prince gunned down his King and Queen parents, his brother and six other relatives and wounded five before committing suicide.

Of course, you’d never have known these facts from your visit to the Palace Museum. (google Nepal Palace Massacre for full gory accounts of the murderous rampage that many still think is a conspiracy) You’d most likely conclude that the Prince was simply a victim of bad decor.

The Palace is a retro kitsch wonderland. The ‘50s furnishings SHOULD be in a museum, but I don’t really think they’re getting the appreciation they are due in the
Palace display. The massacre happened in 2001, but much of the palace is frozen in Fifties. Knick-knack shelves straight out of every grandmother’s living room are jam packed with Precious Moment figurines and glitzy gifts from countries around the world. (A “crystal” paperweight from then-New York Mayor Koch is featured on one crowded shelf.) The bookshelves are stocked with Agatha Christy mysteries, the Encyclopedia Brittanica, and Book-of-the-Month Club specials. The low-slung chairs, formica-clad tables and tasseled lamps are retro gold. Truly a must-see for kitsch-loving tourists.

And then, mixed in with the kitsch, were mounted rhino heads, crocodile skins with red velvet trim, fantasmic plaster columns adorned with Hindi Gods and Goddesses, and gigantic paintings of Nepal’s dead kings (they’ve gone through A LOT of kings!) One of my favorite details were the numerous photos and paintings that adorned the wall -- hung at 8 feet or higher so it was impossible to see them in any detail!) I’d include some photos of my favorite Palace details, but you’re not allowed to take pictures in the Palace and they missed the boat by not having a gift shop featuring the goods -- and massacre -- in books and postcards.) Even so, the visit was well worth the 500 rs (about $7).

We worked up an appetite in the Palace, so hiked a couple miles to Thamel (the shopping/touristy/restaurant district) and the OR 2K Cafe, an Israeli vegetarian restaurant that Megan recommended. The zucchini pie was absolutely delicious! Zucchini, onion, mushrooms, cheese, spices and sauce that I can’t quite pinpoint...baked to perfection! A vegetable salad and ginger-lemon-honey tea rounded out my perfect meal. (I’m pigging out now in preparation for the twice-daily dal bhat that awaits me in Bhairahawa!)

An hour-long walk home capped off our aerobic day and I was in bed by 8 pm (and thus up now at 3 am). Going to go enjoy my maybe-last hot shower for awhile and get ready for the harrowing 8-hour microbus ride south.

Over and out of town ... for now.

Flying High on day one!!

2010-01-20T23:20:00.000-08:00

January 15, 2010

My 2010 adventure to Nepal and India got off to an auspicious start (as they say in India) when the Etihad Airlines agent upgraded me to business class for the overnight flight from Chicago to Abu Dhabi for “being so nice and patient” during the check-in process. I was ECSTATIC but the experience went FAR beyond my expectations.

The business class section was set up like a lounge which created private little areas for singles and couples. The seats -- which were actually MASSAGE chairs that could be converted from upright to lounge chairs to beds -- were tucked into cozy spaces complete with a fairly big personal television set.

The stewardess led “Miss Carol” to my seat and offered me a drink. When I told her I’d like a glass of red wine, she said the wine would come a bit later and that they were serving champagne and cocktails at the time. Champagne sounded good to me!

Ahhhhh... Miss Carol had a lovely 13-hour flight. We each got a leather travel kit with “everything you’ll need for your journey” (toothbrush and paste, eye mask and earplugs, socks, and various sprays and soaps and creams). Fluffy pillows and a warm blanket kept me comfy while I watched two movies -- 500 Days of Summer and The Time Travelers Wife -- and slept a full 8 hours.

But the food was the highlight. Our “snack” was pan-seared marinated salmon accompanied with the promised red wine (Chateau Laroze St Emilion Grand cru Classe 2004 Cabernet from Bordeaux). A loaf of hot bread came with the ratatouille tarte tatin and my main course was baked Lake Michigan brown trout with baby corn, bok choy, jasmine rice and oyster jus. Of course it was all served with an organic five-leaf salad and was capped off with a quattro of dessrts -- lemon meringue pie, passion fruit coconut creme brulee, marinated red berry jelly and seasonal fruit lollipop. The wine was kept flowing throughout the meal; I was a VERY happy traveler!

After a comfortable night’s sleep, I enjoyed a breakfast of poached eggs, turkey bacon, spinach, toasted muffin and hollandaise sauce and a couple cups of cappuccino. I could REALLY get used to business class... best flight of my life!

I’m now in Abu Dhabi (capital of the Arab Emeritus). I have a 14-hour layover. The airport hotel is full but they have a comfortable lounge complete with buffet, bar, internet, showers, and TV for $50 for 8 hours. It’s night here, but day for me and since I’m well rested after my flight, I don’t think it’ll be a bad wait at all.

The airport is GORGEOUS -- sparkling glass and marble.... have never seen a US airport that even comes close to this airport’s glam!

Signing out for now!

Wedding Crashers, Part II

2008-11-30T00:53:00.000-08:00

November 28, 2008

My friend Sue from England told about the culture phenomenon in her country dubbed by some author as social dis-ease. This condition is simply the characteristic of being perpetually ill-at-east in most – if not all – uncommon social situations or when confronted with atypical (to England) behavior. She gave the example of kissing cheeks repeatedly in France. Most English would be very embarrassed, she said, if the number of kisses they thought was appropriate in any situation differed from the French person they were bestowing them upon. Therefore, crashing weddings does not come naturally to Sue and Bill.
However, she is of an age and place similar to mine when you realize that: no one cares much about anything YOU do because they are much to concerned about what THEY are doing, you’ll never see these people again (unless you so choose), and if you want to do something (after considering any legal or life threatening consequences), do it. In the case of wedding crashing in Nepal, in my opinion, the only consequence is that you might get to enjoy a FEAST while participating in a real-life cultural event. (As opposed to going home and eating a huge plateful of sticky white rice with some watery dahl dumped on top of it accompanied by a spoonful of potatoes and cauliflower cooked into a – rather tasy – clump.)
So, although it had been less than a week since our first wedding crash, we could not resist the musical call from the garishly colorful tent a short distance down the road. (Wedding season in Nepal seems to be in full swing now and there are tents sprouting everywhere…. Over night, houses sprout gaudy architectural appendages, rooftops are adorned with dazzling red and yellow tophats, or – as in the case of this wedding – an enormous tent-house had sprung up in previously barren field dwarfing the house to which it was attached.)
I’ll blame in on Sue, she’ll probably blame it on me, and no one will blame it on Bill. But the fact of the matter was we had finished our daily beer, it was only 7:30 pm and we were all FAMISHED and dinner wasn’t due to be served for another hour. So we decided to take a stroll past the wedding tent just in case some nice Nepalese person would like to invite us in for a feast.
Good plan. However, the problem we discovered was that, unlike the previous wedding where the tent actually took up half the road, this tent was set out in the middle of a field. To get to the entrance, you had to walk up a small path for about 100 feet. No chance of “just happening by” and wanting “to peek in” out of curiosity! Also no chance of the host starting a conversation with us out on the road and inviting us in.
This is where the socially dis-eased Sue (obviously now completely cured) started to razz me for “losing my courage” or “backing out” etc, etc. Of course, fighting words in MY world. So she and I sauntered slowly down the path to the tent with Bill lagging well behind and another volunteer, Jade, opting out and heading into town. We picked up a pre-teen along the way who we chatted with until he FINALLY invited us into the tent. Once inside the tent, we had it made.
And what a tent it was!! Billowy red and yellow fabric breathed in the night air lit by “crystal” chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The “food room” was absolutely opulent (in an over-the-top Bollywood sort of way)! The buffet (half veg/half non-veg divided by a carved vegetable display that can only be appreciated in person or photographs but that featured a two-foot-tall statue of the Hindi elephant god Ganesh with a segmented cucumber trunk) stretched from end to end. By now the groom’s father (or uncle??) had taken us under his wing and was escorting us around the festivities. We were within a fork’s reach of the food when Sue asked if the bride was in residence and we were whisked out of the food tent, down a tent hall overflowing with women adorned in sparkling (mostly red) saris, and into another large tent room featuring two plush red velvet throne-like chairs. The bride was GORGEOUS – young, slim, beautiful, dressed in red gown sparkling with glitter and jewels. She did not look ONE BIT happy. (“An arranged marriage,” a drunk relative told me later. “Much more difficult than a ‘love marriage’.” – primarily because, he explained, you had to go through all the costly traditions when dealing with an arranged marriage, whereas couples involved in the slightly-taboo love marriages simply go down to the courthouse (of wherever) and seal the deal.)
The marital tent was packed with relatives in red and we were the honored foreign guests. The videographer – again with small video camera in one hand and blinding lights in the other – followed our every movement. Sue and Bill were caught in the dazzling lights for nearly the whole time we were in the tent (while I managed to slip away and take photos of the kids and the ceremony).
At some point, a large procession led by a young girl dressed in what we would consider a wedding gown – white with veil – entered the tent bearing gifts – fish encrusted with glitter (edible??), shocking pink noodles, breads, sweets, all kinds of fruits and vegetables as well as nail polish?? (including all the latest colors!) and hair and personal care products apparently essential to all newlywed couples.
By the time the food parade and celebrity interviews ended, I was really hungry! But when you crash a wedding, you have to wait to be escorted to the food, which eventually happened. As expected, it was a delicious feast! Mutton, chicken, all sorts of unidentifiable vegetable and rice dishes. I was surprised, however, that the only beverage was water from a jug (although it was clear that the men had been sneaking quite a few sips of alcohol somewhere). Desert was yogurt with a syrup-soaked doughnut ball in it (tasty!)
We were told that the groom would arrive in minutes (or maybe an hour) and that we really needed to stay. The groom’s procession starts in town. He rides in a nice new car festooned with marigold ropes. A band leads the procession and a dozen or so fellows with tall decorative lights precariously balanced on their heads follow. Bringing up the rear, of course, is a noisy generator on wheels being pushed by a bunch of guys (gotta get the power for the lights somewhere!)
We chatted with our escort and his brother (??), both or whom are bankers and quite proud of that fact. We have been invited to our escort’s home for dinner (which we intend to do and try to convince him to buy a nice mosaic for his bank’s lobby). Bill launched into a lengthy conversation about religion with one of the bankers (which I thought was quite ambitious) while Sue and I smiled at the sari-clad dinner guests and multitudes of children – for more than an hour!
By the time the groom arrived, we were ready to head home (although the wedding festivities last all night long and culminate in the couple walking to the temple to finalize the marriage). The promised musical car-and-light parade arrived amidst grand fanfare. Family members circled around and around the car throwing rice and then the groom – I now know why the bride was so unhappy! – emerged and headed inside to claim his prize!
We slipped away into the night, full of food and stories… another good wedding!

Teenage Ninja Warrior Queen

2008-11-30T00:50:00.000-08:00

November 17, 2008

On Monday, November 17^th, my silent world was invaded by eight teenaged “circus girls” from Kathmandu. A “circus girl” is someone who was kidnapped or sold into the Indian circuses where they were forced into performing (aka child labor) in the circuses while being abused psychologically, physically and/or sexually by cruel circus bosses. Saving these children and returning them to their native Nepal is one of the main missions of the Ester Benjamins Trust for whcih that I am currently volunteering.

So eight of these “poor waifs” were sent to be incorporated into my oasis of silence and, let me tell you, these girls are some tough cookies! Susma, Priya, Mamta, Sita, Indu, Bunnu, Sunita and Pinkey, are all around the age of 16 and are dark brooding, muttering, eye flashing masses of female rage (or so I first thought). Daggers flew from their eyes aimed directly at mine when I cheerily called out “Namaste!” No smiles.

So I left the lively teens to their own to get settled into the house next door and enjoyed a reunion with two volunteers from Kathmandu who came along to escort the girls and visit Bhairawa for several days. I nervously asked them about the new girls and they confirmed that there could indeed be some problems in behavior and attitude in this group. Great! I’d just settled into a fun, happy, energetic routine with my 22 deaf mosaic artists and now we were being invaded by teen angst! Ughhhhhhh!

And then Jill came up with a brilliant idea to integrate the teens – a dance! (Although I wondered if the deaf kids would be able to hear and, thus, dance in rhythm, I realized that MANY people who CAN hear the beat don’t appear to incorporate it into their dancing.) Jill said that Bunnu and Pinkey, the two toughest looking of the bunch, were the best dancers and that we should ask them to teach all of us. Before dinner, Jill made the proposal to the Kathmandu kids. She reported back at dinner: No way. Aint’ happening. Ever the optimist, I thought I’d just charm them into accepting our request. And then Pinkey entered the kitchen.

We usually sit on our chair “thrones” at a small table to eat while the girls eat on mats on the floor. Tonight, however, we were on the floor and – most appropriately -- Pinkey took her throne. “Teenage Ninja Warrior Queen,” I muttered, eyes wide in fascination. Pinkey had tied a wide white and black scarf around her head. Her thick black hair spilled over the top in the front and flowed down her arms and back as she assumed her fighting posture – sitting in chair, elbows on knees, shoulders up to ears. She immediately began shoveling rice into her mouth with her right hand. With each scoop, she shot a glare around the room. Her eyes actually “flashed” with defiance (just like in the movies!) “Whoa!” I whispered, “isn’t looking good for dance lessons.”

But, what the heck, might as well give it a go!

Tried compliment: “I hear you are a very good dancer.” FLASH, angry glance.

Nice request: “We’d really like you to teach everyone to dance.” FLASH, BOOM. “NO!”

Whining flattery: “Oh, come on, puleeeeeze. You and Bunnu are the best dancers here!” CRASH, FLASH. “I said NO!”

Groveling charm: “Come on, come on, come on….. please, please, please…. It’ll be fun.” FIXED STARE screaming “Can’t you hear me, white woman! I’m NOT doing it!”

Lunacy: I jumped up from the floor and began dancing Nepalese fashion around the kitchen. Everyone broke into laughter. Ninja Queen jumped up from her chair almost spilling her plate and ran toward the hallway. Silence. As she exited the kitchen, Pinkey paused, turned, took a Warrior stance and said. “OK, I teach you.” And SMILED!!

Shouts of joy and applause followed the Teenage Ninja Warrior Queen down the hall and into her lair.

THE DANCE

The dance was a huge success. Bunnu and Pinkey began the party by doing complete choreographed dance numbers straight out of Bollywood. They are GOOD! A couple of us tried to mimic their undulations but the music was much too fast. One of the deaf boys jumped in and danced perfectly in synch with Bunnu (must be on a music video).

After the performance they tried to teach some steps but most of the kids were too shy. It felt like a junior high school dance; girls on one side, boys on the other all clinging to the walls. Finally, the four volunteers got on the dance floor and we made such fools of ourselves, that some of the kids joined in until critical mass was reached and the rooftop erupted in non-stop dancing, clowning, and video-taping.

It was SO MUCH FUN! By the end, the kids were dancing and joking around and requesting photos with no regard to who could hear or speak, who was from Kathmandu or Bhairawa… they were just teenagers having fun on the rooftop as the mosquitoes descended along with the sun.

Random notes from Nepal

2008-11-30T00:46:00.000-08:00

Random Notes:
I was riding my bike into town today and passed a bicycle rickshaw with a well-dressed man talking on his cell phone… however, he was also holding two goats in his lap! He nodded cordially as I peddled past.

The Internet in Bhairawa is definitely the worst ever…. And I didn’t think you could ever beat some of the Internet Cafes in India. It has taken me FOUR DAYS (maybe a total of SIX HOURS!) to upload 8 photos. (Of course, in the first week I was here, I must admit that sitting in the small booths at the Internet Cafes was my sanctuary… didn’t have to speak either sign language or Nepalese for hours while I tried to get a message out to my English-reading buds) For the past 10 days, however, there has been a constant stream of UK people arriving and departing. I have been able to TALK, which all that know me is a blessing for Carol!

Last night, I spent TWO HOURS at the Internet Café… succeeded in uploading TWO photos before the power went out. I then had to bicycle home IN THE DARK through streets teaming with vehicles of all sorts, people,l children, oxen-driven carts. I really thought I’d surely collide with something or someone (probably a small child)… but I didn’t …. I made it home with only one small skid into a fetid ditch.

Bought some White Mischief on my way home…. The India travelers will surely remember that high proof life saver!

I’m becoming a “regular” on the streets…. A continuous song of “Hello! Hi! How are you? I am fine! Namaste!” follows me wherever I go.

The other day, two of giggling mosaic worker girls called me over and showed me a piece of paper on which they had laboriously written in ENGLISH : I LOVE EASY YOU. Ahhhhh, I love easy you, too!

Wedding Crashers

2008-11-30T00:38:00.001-08:00

November 13^th or so, 2008

As a prelude to buying a beer at the small shop two doors down, we decided to wandered down the road to see what was going on in the “wedding” tent that had been being constructed throughout the week. When we got there, two of the volunteers from the UK – Jill and Sarah—had already engaged the groom in conversation. Bill, Sue (couple from UK) and I arrived in time to (undoubtedly) overwhelm the wedding party with the number of uninvited white people standing at the tent’s entrance. However, they seemed DELIGHTED by our presence and invited the lot of us in for dinner. The UK girls, being proper polite Brits declined not once but several times! (I was ready to dive in immediately but held my tongue) When he finally insisted that we at least have some coffee, I could keep my mouth shut no longer and said I’D have some coffee (for sure!!! Hadn’t tasted coffee for almost a month by now!!)

We drank the coffee (I had TWO) and then were invited, once again, to join them for the wedding feast. (We were superstars by then… the video man had filmed all of us throughout our coffee drinking and mingling with random strangers at the tent’s entranceway). I immediately accepted (I had been eating little more than rice and dahl every night for three weeks and I knew that was what we were most probably having for dinner this night). And so we ate…. No, we feasted.

Oh, the food was delicious! The groom’s cousin escorted me through the buffet telling me the details of each of the culinary delights. (I wanted to pass up anything that had rice as an ingredient and load up on the nan – garlicky flatbread – and paneer – cheese – dishes but it didn’t seem polite so I took some of EVERYTHING but A LOT of the nan and cheesy dishes… no meat… this was a “veg” wedding).

Of course, we had only intended to go out and buy a bottle of beer so I didn’t have my camera (darn!) and I was dressed in rather scruffy (from a long day in the mosaic workshop) jeans. The wedding guests (females), of course, were adorned in colorful saris that seemed to have been spun from an out-of-control Kitchenaid loaded with rainbows and peacocks. The men, not so much…. we were in good company with those that seemed to have stopped by on their way home from work for a tasty (and substantial) bite to eat

The cousin of the groom served as our host and stood “guard” over the 5 of us as we sat in our plastic chairs scarfing down our overloaded plates of absolutely delicious food. It really was culinary heaven. I smiled and “namasted” everyone that sat near me. The wedding videographer (a guy with a small video camera in one hand and a rack of blazing lights in the other) appeared regularly to document our progress from gate crashing to major consumption to as-graceful-as-possible exit.

We met the family (the father of the groom was gorgeous hot! But, of course, married, with enough children that they had populated their hometown in India and had now spilled into Nepal.) We then bid adieu and waddled home, happy and gastronomically content! Our strategy from here on in is to casually stroll by every wedding tent we see -- at dinnertime, of course!

Postscripts:

1. Jill and Sarah ran into the entire wedding crew in Lumbini (birthplace of Buddha) the next day…. Coincidence??

2. Bill happened upon the wedding family two days later as the bride (we think, although she appeared to be old enough to be the groom’s mother and very well could have been) and groom (festooned with an over-sized ruffled color of flowers and feathers) were heading to the Hindu temple to be blessed.

3. Boy, I wish I knew the whole story....We were told day two was dedicated to defoliating the bride (and if she looked like Bill described, probably a good idea). We thought they said the arty moved to India on Friday, but they were still here...obviously, we misinterpreted a lot... Maybe I can get a peek at the wedding photos when they are developed and at least determine who the wedding couple are!

Lumbini or Bust!

2008-11-30T00:27:00.000-08:00

November 11, 2008

The saving grace of my first week was the arrival of Nadia. Nadia is the chief fundraiser for the organization from London. She only recently started so they’ve sent her on a tour of the schools and refuges they run in Nepal. She’s a total delight! She arrived with Nick(UK), Jason(from US) and Samir(Nepal) --(three other delightful staffers or advisors-- and I was in HEAVEN!! English speakers! I jabbered non-stop (in competition with Nick, who can actually out-talk me! REALLY!!)

After the “officials” held their meetings, we visited the School for the Deaf – quite a large facility run by the competent Mrs. BK. My mosaic artists and I may design and install a mosaic to adorn the walls here. (Ricky, we really need your painting skills at the School!! Ray, a little plumbing would come in handy, too!) They board students and have day students…. Must have a couple hundred. We visited quite a few classrooms, the kitchen (fueled by wood as well as bio-fuel from the toilets…. really high tech but not quite working yet), and the dorms. Of course, we took the requisite gazillion photos of the kids and then headed off to our next stop.

Next, we visited the Refuge for circus/jail/street kids that’s a short walk from my house. The kids range in age from maybe 4 to 17…. Some have been there for years, others have recently been rescued from their abusive situations. Some can’t even speak Nepalese yet; still speak local dialects and are, therefore, kind of “outcasts” from the others (although NO ONE is mean! I cannot believe how KIND these people are!! In the US, the newcomers would be like bloody meat to the sharks!!) We spent a couple hours with the kids taking a gazillion photos and chatting with them as best we could.

Then, Nick, who lived here in Bhairawa for a couple years when the Trust was headquartered here, showed us the local “haven” – Pizza King – with its back-of-shop oasis, a cozy and welcoming garden. But best of all, you can get a cold beer and not look like white-woman-drinking-alcohol. Love it! We chattered away for a couple hours and then headed home for our 8 pm dinners.
Nick and Jason flew out the next day, but Nadia and Samir and I went on an adventure to Lumbini, the birthplace of Buddha.

Nepal donated a huge piece of land to any countries that want to build temples honoring Buddha and his birthplace and there are now acres of land dotted with absolutely gorgeous temples interspersed with others that are under construction (for many years it appears).

We sardined into the local bus where we spent 45 minutes bumping through the endless rice paddies that make up this area. Harvest is now underway and workers are harvesting the rice with small hand scythes, loading it on backs (or women, usually) and taking it to the “processing area” where they either separate the rice from the rice hay with baskets (throwing it up in the air repeatedly) or a small machine (I think peddle operated). MOUNDS of rice hay are everywhere! Samir jumped out and got me a sample of the rice to see how it grows… looks like hay, but has rice in the buds instead of wheat….duh!

Anyhow, Lumbini was great. We hired bicycle rickshaws to take us around (bartered hard to one for Nadia and I for 300 rupies each, about $3.50…. and Samir’s for 350 rupies…maybe $4) The tour took several hours and some pretty intense pedaling! We visited about 6 beautiful temples as well as “the actual spot where Buddha was born,” an excavation under roof with a stone that marked it… I have fuzzy photos to prove it!

After a tasty lunch we headed home and decided we should ride on the roof of the bus! Loads of Nepalese do it, but I had never tried it. It was GREAT! Nice cool breeze…. Lots of room (the bus that had a capacity of maybe 40 was crammed with about 80)… plenty of people to wave at and take video/photos of. Really great except for the steel bars that bammed against our bums for the entire trip!

Nadia and Samir left on Sunday morning (11/9)…. I was really sad, but that’s life on the road! I spent the day at the Internet Café in town uploading images for the article Ego-Generist magazine in Russia is running on my work in December!! Check it out!! It’s in Russian, but I’m sure you’ll all want to spend the time to interpret it and learn all about me!! It took THREE HOURS to upload 22 images…. I’m sooooo glad I remembered to take my book!!

As noted earlier, this week has been good…. Learning, working, creating… living in the dark, living in silence…. Got to Instant Message with Emily and Molly this morning for the first time… Ahhhhhh! Wonderful to chat with some wacky friends…. Anyone else on IM? Lets talk! I can get on at 8:30 am here which is 9:30 pm at home… if anyone wants to join in, PLEASE DO!! Or if not, WRITE TO ME!!!!!! I need my buddies!! (I can hear you all now…whine, whine, whine… then why did you leave??!?!?!?)

The last big news of the day before I end this lengthy writing…. NADIA IS RETURNING ON THURSDAY!!! I guess she couldn’t stand to be away from the fantastic energy here in my silent/fun house so she’s going to come back and play with us for awhile. YAY!!!! (Although the last time she was here she didn’t wash her hair for 3 days because the water was too cold…. Can’t wait to hear what kind of “accommodations” she found at the next place to make her want to return here!! Hahahahha! A cold spigot sometimes looks mighty good when you’re surrounded by friends! Even ones that only speak with their hands…. And hearts….

One week anniversary as volunteer

2008-11-30T00:20:00.000-08:00

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

I’ve been here one week now and I think I’m getting a grip.

FACT: Nobody speaks English here… heck, nobody SPEAKS here! Well, that’s an “exaggeration”…. One girl –Kavita--speaks Nepalese and a bit of English, but she’s only here during the “work” day – 10 am to 4 pm. Another girl --Sunita --speaks Nepalese and sign language and a few words of English; she lives here. If I want to communicate with the mosaic artists, I have to say it in English to Kavita…. who translates into Nepalese to Sunita… who translates it into sign language to the artists…and then back and forth through our daisy-chain, losing how much information with each translation. Talk about a LENGTHY process!! Doesn’t really work… IF what I said makes it through the process, I’m nodding off by then!

SOLUTION: Learn NEPALESE sign language and teach Sunita how to speak English

For the first several days, everybody’s faces merged together into one swirling mass of “my Nepalese housemates that don’t talk but chatter away with flying hands.” ALL absolutely friendly and smiling (as I sure I was…. Nod and smile in total incomprehension!) On day three– in desperation! -- I had them write their names on a list…. I took photos that corresponded with that list and as I took the photos, I had them show me their “sign” name and wrote down a description of it. I went on an adventure Friday (more later) and they don’t work on Saturday and Sunday, so I practiced the names-photos-signs intensively for three days and – miracles of miracles!! I learned ALL their names in words and sign! They were verrrrry impressed (as was I!!)

In addition, I’m realllllllly trying to learn enough sign language to communicate…. I carry my sign language “primer” around everywhere …. And I do a lot of improvising (I’m sure you can all imagine my “sign” explaining why I didn’t want my photos taken with everyone because I wasn’t wearing a bra!)

Needless to say, we laugh a lot!

After just a week, I am impressed at my ability to get my messages across.

On Monday I started “drawing lessons”… I had reviewed their “portfolios” and they were horrendous. NOT because they lack ability, but they are missing any and all basics of drawing and yet were trying to draw cityscapes and temples and trees with prayer flags strung throughout their limbs. Not possible.

We started with the cylinder in 3D and within two days they were drawing containers of all sorts – water bottles, jars, cups, SCOPE bottles – and they were really good! I’m so impressed! Tomorrow we start on the cube…. I think this is going to be more of a challenge, but…. Why not?? I taught the cylinder by using about 4 “words” --- same, straight, right and wrong – and it worked!

Oh! And today I put the alphabet on the board in lower case and upper case because I wanted to practice my sign language alphabet. Instead, it turned into an hour-long lesson on printing the alphabet…. THEN they wanted to try to write the alphabet…. And they did! So tomorrow I’m teaching each of them to write their name in cursive. (I did get to practice my sign alphabet …. Doing pretty good, but ….)

Powercuts

2008-11-30T00:12:00.000-08:00

November 10, 2008

Powercuts, a.k.a. “load shedding” occur every day for between 3 and 6 hours per day (that I KNOW about…. I think they slip some in during the night, too!! Or at least reduce the current enough to prevent my camera battery to charge during an ENTIRE night!!)

However, powercuts almost ALWAYS occur from 5 pm to 8 pm… understand that this time is the ONLY time that I can – with ease – make contact with people in the US (11 hours difference in time)… Soooooo, this makes it IMPOSSIBLE to communicate with anyone in “real” time because the Internet cafes have no power. Therefore, I am stuck in my room during this time…. In the dark… with only my laptop on battery…. For THREE HOURS… three very critical hours in my life in Bhairawha, Nepal…. I WORK from 10 am until 4 pm and THEN the power goes out for the remaining daylight hours!!

Hahhahahahhahahha! Soooooo funny! So, what do I do??

I can read by my headlamp (and use up my precious batteries). I can compose on my laptop (as now until the battery dies). I can sleep (but then it’s impossible to sleep during regular hours). Such a pickle!
Of course, not only is the power off, but also my fan is off…. So it gets hot, VERY hot! And the mosquitoes are hungry, VERY hungry! If I turn on my headlamp, the mosquitoes can find me… If I turn my headlamp off, I am in the dark with only my laptop light to guide me (and the mosquitoes).

Right now I’m sitting at a very small desk in the dark… dogs are barking all around.. howling/barking/ baying because it has become dark and there is nothing else to do except try to communicate thru the dark with their howls.
If I go into town before the Powercuts, I can drink a beer at the Pizza Time garden in the light of their generator. BUT, when the power comes on (at 8 pm) or when I finish my beer (well before 8 pm), I have to bicycle home (quite a distance) in the dark… not knowing too well where I’m going… not knowing too well if there is any danger from man or beast or natural hazards…. Not seeing too well the rocks in the “road” (a gravel path littered with rocks and sand and cobras -- Yes, there are COBRAS slithering across the road in front of my bicycle or feet… we saw one crossing our path the other night as we walked home…. I asked the guy with us what kind of snake it was likely to be and he responded, “Cobra”… iyyiyiyiyiyi! THAT gets your attention!) Note: I was told later that there are NOT cobras here… other poisonous snakes, yes; cobras, no.

So, it seems a good idea to stay in my room and wait out the dark.

I think the answer is candles – A LOT of candles! I can light up my room with candles and incense and protect myself with Odomos (mosquito repellent extraordinaire).

But as I sit here I hear screams of delight from children playing (What?? In the dark??)…. I hear tractors heading home after a long day in the rice paddies (that surround everything in Bhiarawa)… and in the distance, the strident tweedle-ee-tweedle-ee! of buses on not-so-distant roads rushing thru this small town on the way from –where??—going to – where??

It is now 6:32 pm… the power has been out for an hour or so….there are still 2 hours to go before dinner (3 cups of rice with a chicken-noodle-soup-like sauce to dump on it and a ladle of mixed vegetables (cauliflower and green beans seem to be the favorite) on the side… same or similar thing EVERY night and leftovers EVERY morning.

I guess it’s time to crawl under my mosquito net and read my third book since arrival only 2 weeks ago. If you like to read (Ricky!) but life gets in the way, this is definitely the place to be!! IF your batteries on your headlamp last… or if you get A LOT of candles!

Bucket bath wisdom

2008-11-30T00:00:00.000-08:00

November 5, 2008

Since sleep is out of the question (still queasy stomach) and activities are limited to reading, working on the computer, or washing my clothes, I worked on sorting Molly and Davey’s thousands of wedding photos (you KNOW you’re bored when…) and then washed my clothes along with my body in the bucket with the spigot (sounds like a totally wrong came of Clue).

There is a shower here, but there is no handle to turn the shower on. So bucket baths it is. I have discovered some poetic beauty in bucket baths, though. Here’s how you do it:

Put some water in bucket with laundry detergent and dirty clothes.
Get hair wet under spigot.
Stand in bucket and agitate clothes while shampooing hair.
Empty bucket of soapy water down squat toilet or on tile floor (whichever needs washing the most).
Rinse hair and then rinse clothes.
Soap up rest of body while agitating “rinse cycle” with feet.
Rinse body and then rinse clothes again.
Continue until body, clothes and bathroom are all spic-n-span!

Went to the office after breakfast (leftovers from last night…a definite pattern is developing…. I could only eat half… stomach not good) to check on the election results. Obama is ahead but long way to go. Talked to the director about the horrors of the circus children and how they manage to capture them back (have “4 Heroes” who are experts at this)… also the jail kids (if mother goes to jail, they go too or are left behind with or without family to care for them).

Worked on my mosaic despite stomach pains and sweats… got the heads of my parrots done and glued down (a miracle!) Lunch – incredibly, as mentioned in last post, was a stack of 8 Ritz crackers and a glass of water! (I got fancier “biscuits” and sugary tea, but really! Not enough to survive on!) But all for the best, I would’ve barfed if I had dinner/breakfast leftovers .

After “work” I tried to get my stomach settled but the local shop is out of water and told me to come back in an hour. So I’m passing time on the computer at the small desk and found the last volunteer’s teaching notes. Oh, my God! They (there were two) had lesson plans and projects and awards and grades, etc, etc. I can’t even communicate OR do mosaics! And I’ve got the poops!!! Not good.

One of the administrative people – Nadia – is coming tomorrow for 3 days… It’ll be nice to speak some English but even better to find out what the heck they expect of me. I’d LIKE to be productive but there are so many barriers…. iyiyiyi! I’ll just have to wait and see!

Election Day

2008-11-29T23:44:00.000-08:00

November 4, 2008

It’s Election Day in the US… of course, I have no way of knowing what’s going on since I have no Internet close by… but anyway, it’s only 1 am on the 4th at home, so no polls are open yet… I’ll have to wait until the 5th and then go find out what has happened (please, please, PLEASE, don’t let McCain get elected! If he does, people in other parts of the world are going to think we are such idiots, which will be TRUE!!)

My day hasn’t been very productive, I must say… after a breakfast of rice/beans/potatoes/sauce (same as dinner), I went over to the Trust office and used the Internet and then got to work in the Mosaic workshop. There are around 15 workers between the ages of 16 to 18… all deaf… all delightful. My “vocabulary” has now expanded to maybe 5 gestures, but I did impress them by “signing” my name. I decided to try to learn how to do mosaics and spent three hours clipping/carving/ sanding tile to create two pieces of the parrot piece I’m tackling (probably has 500 pieces!)

When I showed it off to the others, they were impressed BUT …. Showed me where I needed to fine tune the pieces by clipping and sanding miniscule areas… I was so nervous that I’d mess up the pieces, I could barely bring myself to follow their instructions. Finally, one of the guys came to my rescue and quickly clipped away the offensive material. At this rate, I MAY finish this tile by the time I leave in three months! Boy! It’s gonna get a place of honor in our house!!

Lunch break is from 1-2 pm… a small bowl of what looked like Ramen noodle soup, but pretty tasty…. Bits of onion and garlic and hot pepper in it. The noodle soup lunch is the GOOD lunch…some days we only get 8 Ritz crackers!! Either way, I usually scarf down a packet of crackers with peanut butter on them in my room so I don’t starve to death while making two more mosaic pieces before quitting time (4 pm).

I did indeed make FOUR more pieces and was completely exhausted by 4 pm quitting time. I barely dragged myself down to dinner – same rice, vegetables and dahl but with a sliced onion for me, the guest of honor. And NO they won’t let me sit on the floor, so I’m still in my chair throne providing dinnertime entertainment.

Went to bed at 9 pm and was up by 4 am with the trots… Delhi belly…. Got to know our squat toilet quite well by morning….. just what I need!

Bhairawa

2008-11-29T23:36:00.000-08:00

Nov 3, 2008

Oh, my God! I’m the only one here who speaks English (at least during a significant percentage of the time…like 99% of the time!)

I caught a minivan from Kathmandu to Bhairawa. It was supposed to leave at 7:30 am but left at 8:30 (not bad by Nepalese standards). We bumped and honked and nearly crashed head on into large trucks for the next 8 hours of silence within the bus (at least where I was concerned). No English AT ALL. Which was Ok by me because I read 1/3 of a book and still admired the astounding landscape of Nepal – some of the most beautiful terraced hills that I’ve ever seen… absolutely poetic, a river of a light green color that’s difficult to describe… must have very white sand beneath the green water… can’t think of where I’ve seen this color… and the riverbeds are clogged with huge boulders and gravel companies (Joanie, you would’ve loved these!). The gravel “companies” set up their crushers in the riverbeds and women in saris stand in line with baskets to collect the gravel that’s spewed forth… lines of women in red floated from the riverbed lugging god only knows how many pounds of rocks on their backs. Get a grip, guys, you really need to pitch in here!

Anyhow, I figured 8 hours of bumping thru beauty in silence was great… then I arrived at my new home for 3 months. Oh, boy! I’m probably gonna use less words here in three months than I usually use in three days…. Or maybe minutes. And I think I’m gonna love it. The town is just the right size… I can bicycle in and buy groceries and stuff and go to the Internet and the local chai shops with little effort… The house I’m staying in is lovely…. Two side-by-side houses filled with deaf girls who are adorable (no English, tho, except for one). Down the road is the Refuge for children saved from jails and abuse. Stopped in today and held many hands and shared giggles and hugs… they are certainly going to be fun! The deaf boys’ house is down the road as is the Administrative office (with Internet and promised art supplies).

After taking the tour of the surrounding town and kids, I unpacked using my headlight (power outages are common between 6 and 9 pm… THAT’S an inopportune time for my life!!) and worked on my computer by battery. At 8 I decided dinner should be served so I gathered 6 or 8 giggling deaf girls and went to the kitchen. Thank you, powers that be, for providing me good cooks for this adventure…. If I can’t talk, at least let me eat (especially since the food at the Kathmandu residency has been horrible recently). We had plates heaped with rice and dahl (good dahl) and veggies (green beans and other good stuff) and cucumbers with lime. Everyone ate on the floor on mats while I was on a chair throne at a table (won’t happen again)… I drew the line at using a fork/spoon while everyone else ate with their right hand only (which I had practiced so expertly on the bus up)… Tomorrow and forever more I’m gonna be eating on the mats with the girls and practicing sign language!

After dinner we shared sign language names and other amenities with the help of the “Nepali Sign Language Dictionary” the girls whipped out and sent home with me. They each spelled out their names and then gave me their “shortcut” name. I spelled out my name and they all agreed – in giggling unison – that my shortcut name is a hand on the head wiggled down thru blonde curls. I did a few vampish renditions of my new name (gotta establish that I’m crazy, you know) to appreciative laughter and then was hit by a BARRAGE of words and phrases that were easy one on one but after a dozen of so my mind went into hibernation mode.

They sent me home with “good night, see you soon” (Good --thumbs up) Night (pretend you’re sleeping on your hand), see you (twirl finger from eye) soon (flat palms banging together)… if that’s all I had to say, it’d be fine, but tomorrow is not going to use “good night” for many, many hours…

I think I’m gonna do a photo shoot tomorrow.. print out all their photos and add their names and pin them on the wall… it’s my only hope!

I do think , though, that I can teach some some English (that can hear)… they can teach me either Nepalese or sign language (depending on whether they can hear)… and local people can have my horrible language skills inflicted on them (whatever! They get to stare at me and say ‘how are you?’ a million times!) Not to worry, I’m just gonna shoot “cust o cha” right back at ‘em! And if they say they are fine, I’m gonna be “tick-ta” with an attitude!

Oh, and it’s HOT here… I’d guess around 90 during the day and cools off to maybe 60 at night.. the heat is nice, the mosquitoes, not so much… we are, after all, living in the middle of rice paddies and word has it that Bhairawa is MOSQUITO PARADISE!!! Thankfully we have fans in our rooms…. Oh! But then there is that little issue about having the POWER to make them spin around!!

Love it…. Why doesn’t everybody want to be here with me???!?!?!?