home is where the heart is.

So I feel like a semi fool for just now finding the spell checker for this whole blog business. I guess I cannot hide my illiterate errors plaguing me post graduation. whoops.

It feels like I am in another universe. My mind deceiving me and memories fade and become dreams. Our world's are just so different, and I know there are never going to be words to give you that will even come close to capturing a fraction of what happens in India. You just have to come here and see it for yourself. Breathe it. Love it. Hate it. Feel it. and let it take you out.

You truly have to surrender everything in you to allow this magical place to let you skip freely in the streets and not be swallowed whole. You have to surrender everything you are comfortable with, and everything you thought you might feel when stepping out of your reality into India.

I was snapped back into reality yesterday when I realized I had no idea even what day it was, and it was a big one. September 11Th. One of those days we all remember exactly where we were, and what we were doing when we found out. It's like a time warp, where everything feels like a million years ago and yesterday at the same time. That's how home feels to me right now.

India cows Seattle home...



...and now I am trying to understand what is going on in American politics, and where the f*$%$ Sarah Palin came from. Good strategy there, and I am just hoping all those God willing American "feminists" don't fall for it. Really, how are you going to compare Palin to Hillary Clinton. Don't get me started on this, but don't worry I can still vote in India...and I'm trying to stay connected.

I am finallly leaving Chennai in a few days, and will be traveling around. Southern tip to Northern India to Nepal...and beyond. so skype me por favor. wahooo.

Life these days...

Now it has been two weeks and two days in India. I have still not stopped sweating, and I am still amazed by the magic around me.

I have been trying my hardest to blend in, to become a chameleon and wander aimlessly going unnoticed. However, that will never happen. I will never be anything but a foreigner in India. I will never be able to walk down any street, alleyway, or beach without getting stared at, followed, or haggled for money; hands thrust confidently in my face, their stride flowing in sync with mine, "Madame a bee-utiful necklace for you. What cuntry is it? Wher do you live at?" Do you have a number I just want to get to know you ?"
Children skip by in pairs and trios holding hands, braided hair, bindi on the forehead...Hi, hello, How arre you? Whut is your naame? Sweet sing song innocent voices trail behind me as I giggle to myself every time.

Sometimes while I am walking around by myself, I literally cannot stop smiling. I start laughing out loud, by myself, at the complete absurdity of me being in India. I thought maybe there was a slight chance that I would blend in a tiny bit...as people never cease to ask me what my nationality is, where my name is from etc...but not so much in India. I am a foreigner. I have money., or so they are just fooled by my pale skin. I am a woman not wearing a sari. I have curly hair, as one boy shouted from a rooftop "What nice cuurls you have! Why you not let them down?!" Haha. At least someone can appreciate it.

Last week there was a huge festival that is celebrated throughout India. Unable to decipher a single word in Tamil or even a single syllable for that matter, I could not tell you what it is called or what exactly they are celebrating. But...we did make it down to the marina beach a few kilometers from our house in Chennai, to watch the celebratory gatherings at their best. Hundreds, if not thousands of people gathered all day, at all hours to join in the festivities along the shore. Truckloads of people parade through the street, and I mean literally truckloads. Shining faces of little boys hang from poles on the sides and back of the pickup, bandannas tied in knots around their heads. In the center of them is a giant paper mache (at least thats what i thought) statue of the God, Ganesha. Ganesha is a hugely popular Hindu figure most renowned for his massive elephant head. These statues are gigantic, in width and height, towering over most people. On the beach, there were people standing for a mile wide in anticipation of seeing Ganesha go out to sea. On this particular day, there was a crane..yes a towering crane taller than any building in Chennai...and this crane is used to hoist Ganesha in the air, flying high over outstretched hands, and then thrown in the ocean, drowning in the waves.

While this is all happening, at least twenty police men are waiting near the wake, matching in their tan colored unis, with sticks at hand ready to rough up anyone who gets too close. Other groups simply stash Ganesha on a wooden crate and heave him into the water with all their might. I was told there is a law banning the use of non biodegradable materials in the making of this Ganesha, however, I think they maybe got away with it. Spray painted figures of what looked like plastic were thrown into the ocean all day. hmmm. definitely on their way to going green in Chennai.

So I just got back from a little over night visit to Mamallapuram, a charming beachy town about an hour south of Chennai. Mama.. is most well known for the few standing temples that remain, most notable the Shore Temple which is the only one on the beach spared from the Tsunami. A very nice break from the hustle and bustle of Chennai. Narrow roads intertwine and reconnect at all angles. Shop owners stand proudly in front of their shops adorned with shimmering jewels, shawls, and bright clothes. People work tirelessly on the stone carvings scattered at nearly every corner, pounding away at the Buddha bellies, statues, and candle holders.

In my attempts to make friends I met some crazy British people, one woman who told me of her adventures in Kabul when she was 17, and put on house arrest after a major coupe in the 70's, narrowly escaping the guards holding her hostage. uuh WTF. Also a skeezy Irish chap who leads tours in India, although this is his first trip to the vast country,

I think I have sufficiently rambled enough now, yes I still am in India, and yes I still love it here, and yes I still expect anyone who actually reads this to send me something to read as well.

I am in the midst of planning my next adventures and here is how it goes...Madurai to Kochin, all around Kerala, Mysore to Hampi, to Goa...Mumbai, Delhi..and I cannot think that far ahead, but those are the places I want to go so far in the south. So I will be out of commission for awhile, and at best able to check email and such. Thinking of you all in far away places, and wishing I could teleport to each of your porches to have everlasting conversations and drinks.


until then
-sid

something funny...

I nearly forgot about these episodes, but I thought it might bring some sort of entertainment to you.

Number 1:
We went to this fundraiser dinner the other night for a women that my Mom works with. An organization that is starting in November for children who have been affected by HIV, meaning mostly their parents have HIV, or have passed away from AIDS. Sounds like a wonderful thing. When we arrived at this fancy hotel where the dinner was to be held, there is smoke seeping through the cracks and glass windows everywhere. People are holding scarves over their faces and ducking between the glass doors enshrouded in clouds of thick, creamy white smoke. Just as the performances were going to begin, and the guests arriving, they had let off a huge blast of smoke to ward off the mosquitoes. As we later learned, it may have been the phantom DDT which we are all so familiar with. Great...but kind of an ironic fashion of Indian drama to start off the night right.

Later, we were serenaded by dancing children, and an ear rattling renditions of Lionel Ritchie and Sinatra by some creeper European dad from my mom's school. My dad and I sat awkwardly in the back trying to shield our ears as the music rattled the floor boards. It was weird sitting in a room full of Indians, listening to this weird old white man singing songs that were maybe only familiar to our ears.

Number 2:
Walking home the other day my dad and I were approached by this Indian kid who asked where we were from. My dad, who could talk on and on all day without flinching once, immediately struck up a conversation with him, as I stood to the side wiping the sweat from my face. After about ten minutes of standing to the side of a busy intersection we finally peeled ourselves away from him. My dad had unfortunately told him the neighborhood that we lived in, and not really thinking of it too much we headed on our way.

Well...yesterday after our little train adventure the doorbell rings, and guess who. None other than the scrawny teenager we met on the street. Suffering from a coffee/dehydration headache I ran to the kitchen to avoid contact, not wanting to deal with this weird slash awkward encounter again. I thought it was odd enough for him to show up at our house unannounced, especially when my dad had not told him exactly where we live.

Sooo, thinking it would only be a short conversation, and wondering why the hell he was at our house in the first place, I stayed in kitchen waiting for my coffee to brew. Well, after twenty minutes I realized that this was not ending any time soon, but at this point it was much to late in the game to show my face, after hiding in the kitchen. You can't just pop out and say what's up after that long, right? That's weird. So I was faced with a one of those lose lose situations, where I had nothing to do but wait it out in the sweltering kitchen, with nothing to do but stare out the window and the ticking clock. Geez us. Embarrassed that I was in hiding, for nearly an hour! I had to wait for him to leave...and today he called my dad! WTF. I'm just wondering why he is so intrigued by my 64 year old dad that he intends to be instant BFF with the man. It is also my apprehensive single white female mind that's telling me he has other intentions, but who can really be sure. Trying to shoo my dad away while he was on the phone, of course he hands it over to me and says that this kid wants to talk to me. Good Lord. I was super busy of course and irritated that he could interrupt me while I was doing something as important as reading my book. Nevertheless, I guess I just found it odd that he showed up at our house and has been so persistent in contacting my dad. Not really a normal interaction, at least my standpoint. The other part of me is wondering maybe I am just doomed to never make any friends here because the one 17 year who keeps pestering us, just seems a little creepy.

so...balls.

well I'm definitely done now. hope it was entertaining.

and...if anyone feels so compelled to write me letters/postcards/an SOS message you can kindly do so at this address. :)

B3 Kgeyes Residency, No 1 &2
Kalakshetra Colony, Besant Nagar, Chennai 600 090

ooh la la day nueve.

I have been in India a week tonight. That's just crazy.

Where to begin...

We made it to Pondi this past weekend for a little escape from life in Chennai. Pondicherry is about three hours south of Chennai. A bustling little town, French colonial inspired buildings left as remnants of the former colonies; meet India. We stayed in a nice hotel, courtesy of mis padres (this will soon change). Pondi is definitely a much needed break from the madness that is Chennai, but it is still India let's remember.

I'm continually noticing the severe contrast, a paradox really, between so many things in India. Brightly painted French style buildings and neighborhoods, blocks laid out in front of piles and piles of bricks; women wrapped snugly in brilliant blue saris and flowers in their hair, sit cross legged in front of their neatly arranged piles of fish; piles of garbage litter the streets, one such decorated with the head of a cow hide. Have you ever seen the ankles of an elephant posing as the sturdy ankles of a woman walking bare foot through the littered streets? Well I saw this woman shuffling down the street, her hair neatly pleated with braids and a navy blue sari wrapped around her waist. Her bare feet are covered with nothing more than the flesh that billows over her ankles, a disease that I have found to be quite common here...often it's just one leg that is plagued. I cannot even imagine...

We took the bus back from Pondi and to my mothers horror, actually took a bus without air conditioning! She was sure to let my dad know is error, and pouted in the back seat while I sunk lower in my chair. I found the bus to be exhilarating and breezy, despite the frequent close encounters with the other buses lumbering along the narrow roads, blaring horns at our discretion. My mom was also horrified when she later told me that the man I was sitting next to, and me, were falling asleep on each other...just imagine! haha. A scene all to familiar to me having spent many hazy eyed morning busing to work in San Francisco full blown asleep on the crouching shoulder next to me.

I have yet to really venture out of this little bubble of Chennai, but from my observations here, one might think this city has recently been the victim of a bombing...everywhere. Buildings sky high are tainted with streaks of dirt, mildew, and chipping paint. Scaffolding to the ceiling clings on by twine, and empty building floors echo the sounds of the street. You cannot walk a city block without passing a massive mountain of red bricks, left over from a project years ago or ready to be carefully toiled over by the people who spend an eternity breaking bricks for a living. Buildings crumble underneath the hundreds of workers who spend a minimum of 12 hours a day doing heavy manual labor, to do the simple task of renovating a building, digging a trench, or building a roof. This must be the hardest work imaginable, sweating out the hot Indian sun day after day is toil enough.

I am not trying to paint an ugly picture of Chennai, but I am beginning to take to heart what anyone who has traveled here uttered the minute they found out I would be coming here, 'Chennai is kind of a....shit hole.'

Supposedly, there are 350 million people that comprise the middle class in India. But where I am wondering do all these people live, and what do they do? The places I have been where such dire poverty exists, you can easily distinguish between classes. The slums in Cape Town which speckle the horizon, distinctly end when they meet a highway, dividing the two worlds. The rich and famous of San Salvador are separated by walls, gates, even security guards who look down on the shacks nestled along the highways.

Chennai, and I'm guessing in much of India, there is no division of anything. The houses that appear to maybe reside somewhere in the 'middle' are only separated by the shadow that is cast down on the makeshift tarps, bamboo style huts, and sleeping dwellers on the streets. The same auto rickshaws beep their horns effervescently as they weave in and out of single lanes. Children wearing matching uniform saris prance around holding hands, and making up games in the dirt. The folded saris flap in the wind on wires knotted above the streets below. All of Chennai is one big intermixed hodge podge of faces, traffic noises, and the desperation of India's poorest hands outreached into air.

My dad and I took the train yesterday. One day when I was in China, which seems light years away, the subway that seemed so bustling and crazy is now a glittering reflection of what is missing in India. The Beijing and Shanghai subway run every few minutes on the dot, the seats are sparkling clean and there is not a hint of wear throughout the station.

Walking to the train in Chennai, we find the building to be a huge empty warehouse type building, appearing to be 'unfinished.' The inside of the station wreaks of things that I cannot mention, and the lack of signs anywhere left us to wander aimlessly. Each train arrives every 15 minutes or so. The few benches fashioned along the wall hung on loose hinges, dangling at the seams. The walls sag with age, and the tracks seem hardly able to support the weight of a train. However, despite the dreary state of the , the train was actually quite fun, and a fabulous way to see a wider view of Chennai. Most of the city appears to be in similar conditions to my previous observations, but there is always something different about seeing a new place through a speeding train with no doors, clutching onto the railing and hoping not to fall. I did see some giant magnetic creatures wallowing in the mucky waters along the banks of the tracks. I thought they were just more cows, which is a normal occurrence to see cows everywhere these days, but they were water buffalo! I still get really excited to see new animals in the wild, like a used to as an innocent kid visiting the zoo. Some pictures that stay in my mind seem so reminiscent of a movie I have to remind myself that I am actually here...

Well if you have made it this far, then my hat is off to you...if anyone out there is even reading this. At least I have some good reflecting time..hah.

I guess that is all for now...thanks for reading.

Please feel free to write me...I would love it actually.

-s