Jaipur

August 1, 2008: I went to the city of Jaipur for 3 days. Maria Luisa’s microfinance program is located there and she went several days before me to interview a number of the women receiving loans. When I arrived she still had a few more things to do so I had the opportunity to join go along. One event was a meeting with a woman from another Microfinance organization, structured as an interview about microfinance in Rajasthan. The woman was quite young, very smart and very nice. We also went to interview two more groups of loan recipients who were located in urban areas (most of the programs are located in rural areas). It was fantastic to go along, especially to meet the recipients. Below are pictures of the office.

PSC Loan Officers and Meeting Table

Water Jug

The following pictures are of the loan recipients themselves. We interacted with one woman in particular who I believe is the designated leader of the group (Farida Bannu). She was incredibly bright, calm and confident. Everyone seemed to like her, including the children (as you can see from the photos). She invited us to her house compound and studio/store, and gave both Maria Luisa and I bangals (photo). We tried later to pay her, and the most she would do was accept money for the cost of the materials. She said our organization is non-profit, so why should she make a profit when selling the bangals to us?

Farida Bannu and women in red

Farida Bannu with kids

Bangals from Farida

Farida’s sewing machine

The group leaders collect money from the other women before the weekly meetings with the loan officers, and have other responsibilities as well. Loans are given to groups of women, and the whole group is responsible for the money. In other words, if one woman does not pay, the other women have to pay her portion. As you can imagine, that creates a certain accountability/peer pressure, and also allows the women to form they kind of relationships that could bridge into other areas as well. For example, there are groups called ‘Self Help Groups’ (SHGs) in the humanitarian/disaster response program, and those groups are the venue through which a lot of decisions are made and information is disseminated. SHGs also helps identify and strengthen community leaders. In the case of the loan recipient group, this group could become committees for other initiatives such as sanitation, hygiene, and various public health projects. For her summer Fellowship Maria Luisa is creating a report about the program and making suggestions for continuation and modifications. One of the things that she has identified is the possibility of providing entrepreneurship and other training to the women in the groups rather than train solely on financial management.

Here are some more photos of the women we met:

Loan Recipient Neighborhood

Self Help Group Collecting Money

Group Photo

Loan Recipient Family Members

Loan Recipients

Loan Recipients


SB with loan recipients


Adopted Mama


Self Help Group Women

Children of Self Help Group Women

Kids

As you can see, Maria Luisa was beloved.

ML with women and kids

Maria Luisa with community

A bit about Jaipur generally: It forms a triangle with Delhi and Agra (the location of the Taj Mahal), and is perhaps the most touristy of the cities. Agra (which I also just visited and will write about shortly) is also touristy because of the Taj Mahal, but it is more of a one day trip and there is enough to do in Jaipur for a number of days. There were forts and temples and a beautiful old city with some fantastic bazaars and shopping.

By fantastic shopping, I mean really good prices, if you can bargain down. There are some of the best fabrics, sarees, traditional shoes, jewelry (especially silver), and pottery famous to the region. We spent two 1-2 hour chunks looking and buying. It’s where I’ve purchased most of the gifts I’ll bring home. Shopping there is exhausting. Actually, just being there was exhausting. It was hotter than Delhi, and because it is a tourist area we were treated as tourists – people with money to be milked. As you walk along the street, people are practically pulling you into their shops. If you do go in, the merchants start unfolding their wares, pulling things off the shelf, and otherwise keeping you there even if you persistently say ‘no thank you’ over and over again. It’s surprisingly effective. After someone has spent even 1-3 minutes unfolding fabric while you protest, you feel like you owe them something for their effort. That faded as the days went on, and I was able to separate business and emotions.

We met a few really interesting merchants. One was a gentleman who was the third generation to run a spice and snack shop. He made his own tea, perfume, and regional snacks. He gave us a taste of something like a pomegranate fruit chew. There were some spices in it, one of which was cardamom, and he said it functions as a digestive. We took a photo of him in his shop (Blogpot just stopped allowing me to post photos... I'll try again later).

The other person was a potter – a man named Kripal Singh who had won many international awards for his work. The guide book said you might be told by taxi/rickshaw drivers that he has passed away and be taken to another place where they receive commission for bringing customers. As it turns out, Kripal Singh actually did pass away about two months before. The taxi r and hotel clerk told me at the same time, and when we went to the studio (located in their residence), we met with his daughter who also said he’d passed away and she had taken over the workshop. His daughter, Kumud, is a potter as well, and I ended up buying a plate that she made. Some of your gifts will come from there, and if you visit our apartment next year, we’ll serve you water in ceramic cups while you admire the flowers in our ceramic vase.

I spent a good deal of time talking with Kumud. The pottery is known as the ‘blue pottery’ of Jaipur, and it looked very familiar, very much like a plate that used to hang on my grandma’s kitchen wall. I created a story in my head that my grandma had actually been there, and I started telling the potter’s daughter about her: her travels, her long-distance friendship with an Indian man she’d met in a German art school, the plate hanging on the wall, etc. I said this is just the place my grandma would have found – an authentic, welcoming artist who sold pottery from his home. Kumud then told me about an old woman who came by three or four times over the years, and she fit the description, down to the string one attaches to eye glasses to prevent losing them. The only difference was that she remembered the lady having curly hair, not straight. But the rest – tiny stature, bright white hair, artist, glasses – all fit. I sent them an email afterwards with my grandma’s picture, and I’m curious to hear back from them. I don’t think it was her, but it would sure be a great story.

The other ways we were treated like tourists were by the rickshaw drivers. They were extremely talkative, asking us how long we’d be there, what we had seen, whether we’d like a personal tour, inviting us back to their house, etc. Two drivers stopped their rickshaws en route to show us pictures and/or notes from people who they had given tours and were recommending them. Some of the instances were a little scary. The driver who invited us back to his house, for example. It was 8:30 at night and already dark, and when we said we preferred to just go back to the hotel because we had an appointment the next morning, he asked if we didn’t trust him. We weren’t prepared for that question and he took the silence as a no, and that’s when he stopped the rickshaw to show us pictures. The pictures were of him with kids he works with, and of him traveling and playing traditional Indian music for kids abroad. He was probably as interesting and eccentric as he seemed, versus someone who was dangerous, but there’s just no way you can take that chance. My vibes on him were ok… I still wouldn’t have gone back to his house, or even met him the next afternoon at his house for tea with him and his mom (the second invitation), but Maria Luisa had bad vibes about him. Either way, we weren’t going to go with him.

There was another experience where we did decide to trust people. The same day we went to the potter’s house, we also went to the Amber Fort (pronounced ‘Amer’) and then the Tiger Fort. The Amber Fort was spectacular…I’ll write about it in a moment. The Tiger Fort has a restaurant where you can have a drink and watch the sun set. We got there just in time, and while it wasn’t a particularly notable sunset, being up there and above Jaipur City was fascinating in itself.

Maria Luisa remarked that it’s the kind of ‘city shot’ you see on TV when they’re talking about a country in the Middle East, for example, and usually when they’re reporting on violence. You see an expanse of rooftops and the hazy heat of the day. What I noted was the sound. I imagined it would be silent, but instead you could hear the whole city! I’ve mentioned the pervasive beeping a number of times already and honking was definitely one of the things you could hear. But you could also hear the sound of kids playing, vendors loudly announcing their wares. There seemed to be conversations lifting upwards from every single corner. And then, the Imams started calling for evening prayer over the loudspeakers. It was majestic and solemn and came from what seemed like 3 or 4 different mosques. From up there we experienced it almost in stereo.

On our way down from this incredible view, our taxi ran out of gas. The driver got out and tried to pump just enough to get the car started and over a little hump after which we could just roll down the hill. After several tries it was clear we were stuck. A car passed us, and moments later backed up to ask if we needed help. Maria Luisa and I looked at each other and said, “Well, sort of.” They were two bankers who were on their way to meet a friend and their boss who was in town for the night, and they offered for us to have a drink with them after which they would bring us back to the hotel. They seemed incredibly earnest and trustworthy. Long story short, they weren’t as earnest as they seemed, and it took 4 hours for them to get us back to the hotel. We were very thankful to be back.

Amber Fort: It was beautiful. A mix of Moghul, Hindu and Iranian architecture, reflecting the backgrounds of the Raj’s that lived there. It’s a pale mustard yellow in color, hence the name. (Jaipur is called the Pink City, by the way. It was painted for a royal British visit a number of years ago, and ever since then it has been repainted that way nearly every year. It’s more of a salmon color, and at times appears more orange). Here are a number of photos of the Amber Fort.
The following photos are of the Winter Palace, which is made of glass. They are renovating it, and I asked if I could take some photos of them at work.

Our guide was quite a character, and as it turns out a budding photographer. We learned that when he took my camera and started directing us on where to stand. I usually hate having my photo taken, but I admit that it’s really nice to have some pictures of Maria Luisa and me together, and he got good shots of the fort as well. In one of the pictures (the one of us at the summer palace) we were standing in the blazing sun, and we could barely make out a smile it was so hot. We drank a ton of water that day.

On the way down, we got suckered into a government-regulated craft place. They ensure authenticity and fair labor. They also had demonstrations of fabric-dying and block-printing, gem shaping, and carpet weaving. I loved seeing the crafts in action. Again, some of you may find yourselves with gifts from here…No gems, though!

Sound, Smell, Sight

July 31, 2008: I seem to be on a fortnight schedule for updating my blog (that’s a word I’ve heard a lot recently). I’ve followed through with about half of the senses: sound, smell, and sight. Here is a summary.

SOUND: I’ve talked before about the beeping. Half of what I did while noting sounds was to track the number of beeps/honks/bleeps/toots that I heard. It made it difficult to focus and be thorough, because…there were 259 honks! I considered counting the ones that lasted for more than 3 seconds as more than one honk, but concluded that was too complicated. Among those honks, here is what else we generally hear on our way to work.

• Rattle
• The sound of high gear
• Acceleration (Passing)
• Man asking rickshaw driver for help with directions
• “Yo!”
• Swish (puddle)
• Squeak
• Asking for directions again (I wish I could describe the gestures)
• Engines turning on in syncopated unison (the sound you hear in the car deck of a ferry when cars are all turning on their engines)
• Radio playing Hindi music
• My auto rickshaw turning off, and other noises becoming more noticeable
• Whistle
• Vroom (there’s no other way to describe it…a motorcycle revving the engine right next to the rickshaw)
• Spit
• Yawn
• Blinker of my auto (sound similar to when the back of a school bus is open…more of an alarm)

SMELL: I spent a lot of this leg of the journey with my eyes closed, taking in deep, intentional breaths almost the entire way. It was enjoyable to focus so much on this sense, even though it was in an urban area and had the correlating smells.

• Cow dung
• Exhaust
• Dog dung
• Trees – cool (I think you can smell ‘cool’ when it’s really hot)
• Dump
• Warm (likewise, the heat had a specific smell)
• Sweat
• Hot body
• Bus exhaust (distinct from others)
• Trash (mild smell)
• Diesel (from trucks)
• Sweaty Body/Head (at a light again; again noticed the smell before looking up to see what was around me).
• Car/Hood (sitting in traffic next to a new-ish car; the heat from the hood was recognizable to times I’ve stood next to cars in the US)
• Wet meadow smell (we were on a busy road, but going slow in traffic; there is a ditch of water right next to the road, and vines that grow up the brick/concrete walls; it had recently rained)
• Mud
• Ferry exhaust
• Trash
• Burning corn
• Gas station smell (we were not near a gas station)
• Onion
• Exhaust
• Dust

SIGHT: I had to do this exercise twice. The first time I started looking all around, but decided to look just to the left. On the return route, I looked to the left again (thus the opposite side). It felt like I could do this 4 more times and still only capture a small percentage of what we see.

(From work to home)

• Cars (parked against the sidewalk; driving)
• Park (fence; trees; path; dark)
• Shops (bank; salon; Coffee Day; bank; dry cleaner; bank)
• Corn (people grilling and selling corn; people are set up everywhere doing this… grilling pieces of corn one at a time; mostly women and children; apparently it’s dipped in lemon and re-grilled)
• Ice Cream (mobile freezers with umbrellas)
• Flowers (flower stand; gorgeous, beautifully arranged flowers)
• Dogs
• Recreation Center (Similar to a YMCA; government run/subsidized; tennis; gym; yoga; a sign that says India vs. Sweden, Football)
• People walking home (many)
• Driver spitting (People chew betel nuts, which is a digestive and stimulates a secretion that turns red and needs to be spit out)
• Crow
• Clothes on the road median (I’ve seen this a number of times; near the train station, 30+ uniforms were hung up on the surround medians)
• Water spouting, man showering (From a pipe, right on the edge of the woods)
• Unattended bike-rickshaw with cardboard being transported
• Incense smoke coming from my auto rickshaw’s dashboard
• Back door of auto rickshaw in front of us held on by string
• Traffic Cop (Blue pants and blue beret)
• Man picking his nose (apologies to the couth among you)
• Child trying to sell me a magazine (entreating words in Hindi; “Bye”!)
• Cars (many!) Man. Bike.
• Rickshaw driver cleaning the inside of the rickshaw with a rag; shaking the dirt from the rag outside the rickshaw
• 5 other boys/children selling various goods
• Busses (Driver side open – no door). Words written in English: CNG. Stagecoach. Words written in Hindi.
• Ditch. Water. Man with Turban. Brick Wall. Pink Flowers. Wonderful smell! (where was this yesterday?!)
• Construction and construction sign “Work in Progress”
• Puddle
• Man peeing on the side of the road
• A beggar with no hand
• Bus stop. Majority of people on cell phones
• Corn being roasted
• Man sweeping dirt from the road
• Outdoor fast-food markets (momo’s, juice, samosas)
• Vegetable stand
• Bike rickshaws with flat wooden beds for transporting good
• Park (kids playing ball game)
• Adorable 6-yr old in a kurta (traditional Indian clothes)
• JNU: Beautiful pink flowers all along the wall for about a quarter mile
• Cow
• 3 Donkeys
• 2 dogs lying in the street
• Girl roasting corn
• People waiting for bus
• Car stopped on the side of the road (3)
• Motorcycle stopped on the side of the road (2)
• Dirt/weeds in piles
• Man collecting piles of dirt?
• Bike with jugs (Milk? Gasoline?)
• Sign: “Welcome to Sector – C. Save Water.”
• Gates, Security Guards
• Huge speed bumps.

(From home to work)

• Men hanging out in cars (car doors open, front seats reclined; sitting on hoods. This was outside a school. It’s likely that these could be personal drivers for some of the children. Drivers wait for people for hours at a time. Some people at work have drivers who wait around all day until after work. Having a driver is not very expensive and doesn't have the same meaning as it would in the US)
• Food Stand
• Beds (There are a lot of beds made of woven strips of strong cloth; they are on the sidewalk/slightly back from the sides of the road, in the makeshift tents, in the shade; a lot of older men lay on them during the day, especially during the hottest hours)
  CNG line at gas station (As far as I can tell, all of the autos and most of the public busses run on CNG. There is a gas station close to our house that often has lines reaching 12-20 busses back)
• Mall (There is a mall being built on Nelson Mandela road, also very close to our house. It is slated to be a very posh mall with stores such as Dior and Louis Vitton; On any given day, beginning at sunrise, women and men are carrying bricks, gravel and other material on their heads; there are several security guards that set up a small piece of shade with a stick and piece of cloth to stay protected from the sun; to the right of the mall there is a community of shacks – likely the people and some of their families who are buiding the mall, many of whom are likely migrants; to the right of the shacks is a field with relatively high grass which the community uses as a latrine – there are often 1-5 people there at any one time, especially in the mornings on the way to work)
• Jungle (Further along Nelson Mandela road there are thick brushes of trees on the left hand side)
• Community on the circle (There is a community of shacks on a traffic circle at one of the crossroads: there are often kids running around, small shops selling single-packet goods such as gum or shampoo, women cooking in metal pots with kids peering at the food, 2 pigs, bike rickshaws with wooden flatbed for transportation – I think this is the originating point for a number of the mobile fruit stands and lime-juice stands)
• Men crouching on side of road (talking, watching the road)
• Egg man (a man with a tower of eggs on the back of his bike)
• People walking along side of road
• National Association of the Blind (I never noticed this was here before)
• Bike riding in the opposite direction (toward us)
• Tire Repair Area (An area beyond the sidewalk, under a few trees; there are tires of all shapes laying around, un-inflated)
• Donkey pulling cart
• Sweeping the sidewalk and road (there are many men sweeping)
• Barber (barber shops are set up all along the roads; a mirror is hung from a fence, a tarp is strung up to create shade, and that is the shop; some shops have wooden structures that are closed up each night)
• Beds (as described before; one or two on every block)
• Dump (There are communities of people who live on many of the blocks, including the busiest roads; Some of the communities sell different wares; Most mornings and evenings you can see every day life going on – people bathing, washing clothes, cooking, hanging or folding laundry, etc; One of the communities lives in very close proximity to a dump)

The Five Senses

July 15, 2008: As I drove to work yesterday, I had the idea to write about the ride to/from work from the perspective of each of the five senses. I describe (and experience) the ride as ‘sensory overload’ again and again each day, so I thought it would be interesting to break it down and describe it through the five different ways to create a full picture. Today in the morning I wrote down everything I heard, and on the way home I wrote down everything I smelled. It was a great experience to turn off everything except my ears. And on the way home, I was tuned in only to every inhale, which I drew intentionally through my waiting olfactory system. There is one corner 4 blocks from our apartment where I literally take a huge breath as we make the turn, and let my breath out in a slow, steady stream until we are past the stretch of road that smells so strong and so bad that if I inhale too quickly it feels like I've eaten sewage.

I’m not sure I’ll get the observations written tonight, but I’m going to post this introduction to the project to give you a ‘sense’ of things to come. (I know, bad joke).

Food

July 15, 2008: I was just writing an email to someone, answering their question about what kind of food we’re eating here, and I’m going to take portions of that email and turn it into a blog entry. Here’s some of what I wrote:

We've been having all sorts of stuff (ever since finding Le Marche, the grocery store). We've actually been kind of creative, because we often find ourselves with limited ingredients... We had a can of coconut milk which turned into dinner one day when we made a coconut curry sauce with tamari, and put it over veggies and fried tofu. The other night we were down to cabbage, onions and granny smith apples. We cut them all in long strips and cooked them together with some vinegar and lemon juice and put that over sautéed chicken. It was actually really good! We eat a ton of cous cous. It's the easiest starch to make, and Maria Luisa LOVES it. I made a cold cous cous salad with mint, raisins, cucumbers, cumin, lemon, olive oil and parsley. Another yum :-) That's a family recipe, so I can't claim creativity for that one.

But that’s not what you really want to hear…you probably want to hear about all the delicious Indian food! Lunches at the office are fantastic. We all sit around the large conference table and everyone has one or two different food dishes (mostly vegetarian), stored in round, tin ‘boxes’ that sit in a food warmer from the morning until lunch time. The food warmer looks like an oven, and perhaps that’s what it really is… but it serves to bring things to just warm enough to enjoy eating at lunch. People take a Tablespoon or two of their own food, then people start passing things around and taking a teaspoon or two of other things they want to try. It is all delicious! Usually quite spicy, but not 'fire-in-the-mouth' spicy. I've always described myself as a spice 'wus' so I'm proud to say that I try everything without first asking whether it's spicy. It might 'tingle' and feel a bit uncomfortable, but it subsides pretty quickly.

Some people bring some yogurt (or curd) and some bring rice. Everyone has 1-3 pieces of bread: naan, chapattis, roti, parantha. You break off a piece of the bread (some do it with just their right hand, as you do not eat with your left hand at all, stemming from some of the (still practiced) bathroom habits). It’s not as easy at it sounds to tear the bread with one hand. Not everyone avoids using their left hand – many of the younger people especially use their left hands. I try to use just my right hand sometimes, especially when in public. One plus is that it helps you to eat slower…

I thought it would be good to learn some Indian cooking while I'm here, so I bought several curries and masala spices (there are different mixtures for different dishes) and occasionally try to replicate what we eat at lunch. Chickpeas with tomatoes, onion, garlic and ginger. Potatoes with peas, onion and tomato. Green beans cut into centimeter long pieces and cooked (a lot!) with onions, garlic, ginger, tomatoes. Okra. Bitter Melon. It's the spices that makes things taste different, because you can see that the ingredients are often the same.

We buy whatever is fresh at the local market: cabbage, carrots, mangoes, plums, cucumbers, potatoes, zucchini, onions (I've only seen red onions here), and garlic. Some of the street markets sell garlic already divided into individual sections. There are mounds of them. Describing this is making me want to visit the market again with an eye to describing it in better detail, and writing another blog entry, with photos. (To come).

Cooking starts by soaking all the vegetables in Steriliq, a watered-down bleach solution, for 20 minutes and then rinsing them in bottled water. We have a 5 gallon water dispenser in our kitchen. It costs $1.75 to have another bottle delivered to the house. The plastic bottles are reused and incredibly beat up, so much so that we weren't sure how sterile it was to drink the water, even if the water was clean, but we've been ok so far. It's a little tiresome to have to clean/soak everything, and sometimes we get out ahead and soak everything when we come back from the market. But when I start writing about these ‘inconveniences’ I’m immediately thankful for what I do have…the means to sterilize things, to have an abundance of clean water, and a warm (or cool) and peaceful place to sleep every night. I'm humbled by the effort that so many of our program's beneficiaries extend to live every day of their lives. So no fussing from me about having to soak veggies :-)

There’s more to say about food. I’ll write later about the markets and perhaps some more regional dishes I’ve tried.

Hope everyone’s well!

Sarah B.

Maria Luisa’s turn with the Indian Health Care System

July 15, 2008: I just got back from taking Maria Luisa to the Dr. because she's been sick for 5 days and feeling pretty awful. The symptoms are mostly allergy-symptoms, but she's had an allergic reaction from the beginning and this is more severe, including possibly a fever (although we don't have a thermometer). The Dr. gave her an anti-allergy medication and nasal spray to take for 10 days, an anti-biotic to take for 4 days, and drops to put in steaming water to breathe in for 2 minutes before bed. In addition, he said if symptoms persist to a low degree, she should mix honey, lemon juice, 2 Tablespoons of rum and a 1/4 cup warm water and drink it before bed. He wrote everything down on the paper except for the rum... I guess he's not allowed to. But he said the lemon and warm water will loosen things, the honey will gather all the dust and take it down the food pipe, and the rum will help her sleep well. I love it. He told her that with as much seriousness and precision as he told her about administering the nasal spray.

A New Country Director

July 14, 2008: It was announced last week that there is a new Country Director hired for the India office. I think I’ve mentioned several times that the India office is in a bit of a staff transition. The charismatic Country Director, an ex-pat from the United States who had been there for 11 years, left a few months ago, followed by a number of other staff turnovers. The search yielded a number of great candidates, and the person they’re hiring has tremendous qualifications as well as the kind of personality and team building outlook that they were hoping to find.

When it was announced to the staff that the individual is an Indian man, my reaction was “great!” In my mindset, that was clearly preferable than an ex-pat for a number of reasons. For one, a national knows the culture and can therefore do a better job navigating the public aspects of the position as well as the internal aspects of working with the staff. It also appeals to my justice and equality nerve. Too often the highest levels of leadership are evasive.

I was therefore surprised to see pretty tepid reactions around the room. People’s expressions literally did not change, and I wondered what was going on. I thought perhaps it was already known and the announcement was gratuitous, or perhaps there was something about this person that people knew and did not like. But from how he (Jim, my boss, the person from the U.S. who came to India to help out during this transitional time) was introducing this man, it was clear that was not the case. About 6 of the Directors (all Indian nationals themselves) were part of the interview process, and they pretty flatly shared their impressions of the new Country Director as well.

I talked to Jim later and found out several things. A few people had come to him, concerned that having and Indian Country Director (CD) could change things for the worse. The former ex-pat CD had imparted a relative equality in the office, in a country where the caste system still has a strong presence. The drivers, sweeper/cleaner, and office-boy (the actual title…one I’m still not comfortable with) were included in ways they had not been before, and were treated with much more respect than they likely experienced elsewhere. The former CD was committed to everyone’s professional development. The driver, for example, wanted to learn how to use a computer and the CD made that happen for him.

The fear, therefore, was that an Indian man might undo some of what everyone really valued about the office culture. It was not just those who stood to directly lose from the situation who felt worried: some Director-level people expressed concern as well.

It’s always interesting how things are seen from such varied points of view.

Old Delhi

Sunday, June 29: Before I came to India, I didn’t know the difference between Delhi and New Delhi. Was it the same area or spaced apart? Concentric, with Old Delhi in the middle and new built up around the center (or visa versa?). Two cities right next to each other? It’s more of the latter. Old Delhi houses the 17th Century Red Fort, which even from the outside is spectacular when you think about when it was built and how it must have looked to people back then, unable to compare them to machine-built sky scrapers.

We went there on Sunday, June 29th, with the Ambassador of El Salvador. Yep! The adventures never cease. Maria Luisa knew her from their previous work and they have reconnected here. She invited us on a tour of the city with her and her mother who is living here as well. They’d hired a car with a driver and tour guide, for a half-day tour. We left at 4:30 p.m. (mid-day?!) and the adventure began.

First to Qutb Minar, a 73 meter high tower constructed over several centuries (1193-1368) by different rulers. Then to the Lotus Temple, a unique structure built by people of the Bahai faith. Then to the Red Fort, passing temples and graves and museums along the way. We mostly stayed in the car, to see more things, but got out at the Lotus Temple and walked around a bit. It was very interesting to see tourists from all over India there. I’ve only really been around Indian people from Delhi. Granted, many people from Delhi are from other areas, if our office is any representation, but just as when visiting the Liberty Bell in Philadelphia, you are going to see fewer Philadelphians than folks from other parts of the country and the world. We were some of the only non-Indian people there. Several people took pictures of us as we walked, and one brave lady stopped the Ambassador and her mother to take pictures with them. We took a photo, too, to remember the moment, and many other people snapped the shot as well.

We made it up to the Red Fort at 6:30 or 7:00 p.m. There was a Sunday second-hand sale on the streets: a giant flea market laid out on blankets along the sidewalks. We drove down an alley where they were selling oriental rugs, and continued on as the alley narrowed, making our way to the Jama Masjid Mosque. You can’t go during prayers, which was when we were there, but truthfully we were not planning to get out. We’d separately been warned by people that this is the area to be the most careful as tourists. This was also the place where I’ve first seen what the media tends to portray as the typical beggars – men and women with severe deformities crawling, or shuffling in a seated position, moving in among the traffic. It was heart-wrenching.

The area was extremely crowded. Several times we drove through the crowds, beeping and making people part to let us through. I hated every minute of it. 4 white people in an air conditioned van pummeling through a market where people are buying necessities. It’s the kind of experience I avoid on my own, but when you’re being taken somewhere and aren’t directing the experience, you have to just go with the flow. (I don’t mean to say that the Ambassador had sought that dynamic, either…We were all at the mercy of the tour guide and did ask him to change his course a number of times for similar reasons).

Once out of the crowd and toward the mosque, it was better. Off to the sides there were tiny alley ways that longed to be explored (don’t worry, I’ll find out whether it’s safe to do so or not…it was late on a Sunday evening so I couldn’t tell whether it was always dark and quiet or usually vibrant during the day time hours). I definitely want to come back, but with one of us carrying a subtle money belt and the other with a camera and that’s it. No bags.

While by the mosque, we saw a funeral procession pass us by. The corpse was laid on a wooden board, and covered with a white sheet and flowers, carried by four people on their shoulders. There were maybe 15 other people, all of them jogging along singing or chanting. It came and left pretty quickly. Pretty remarkable how out in the open it was.

The driving… the driver was pretty tame compared to most, but he did do a few very frightening things such as stop in the middle of a 4-lane road (highway) when he saw water at a road side shop to the left, and we’d recently asked if we could stop for water. I don’t know how we made it over. He also had to put the breaks on pretty quickly a number of times, and no one (besides me) was wearing a seatbelt, so there were a lot of fearful gasps and shouts of “Dios Mio!” That created some tension as the guide in turn scolded the driver and then told us, “I scolded him.” It’s also not an issue here when people burp (they in fact keep feeding you until you do…) and the driver kept on belching, to more exclamations of “Dios Mio!”

I’ve learned to not be afraid of the driving. If the person driving is particularly aggressive, or brakes very late (how’s that for a nice way of saying things), I just close my eyes. The same thing is going to happen whether I feel frightened or not, and I’ve managed to internalize that and my heart rate is not affected as we go from one driving adventure to the next.

We got home around 8:00 and sat together talking and drinking wine, eating cheese and crackers. There’s always a strange feeling when relaxing in luxury after such an experience, but it was restful and welcome, and really nice talking with two very interesting people.

Well, that was my weekend. Saturday was Lajpat Nagar, and Sunday was a half day adventure around the city.

I hope everyone’s well. I miss you!

Sarah

A Few Observations

* Every corner has a coffee shop… They don’t open until 10 am.

* Honking means: “I’m coming, watch out.” Or, “I wish the light were green.” “The light turned green .05 seconds ago.” “I’m passing you.” “You’re passing me.” Or, “It’s #$%%& hot.” “It’s Friday.”

* A motorcycle is transportation for a family of 4.

* Cars have right of way over auto-rickshaws. They have right of way over motorcycles. Motorcycles are small enough to dart around and claim right of way in short bursts. Then comes bicycles, then pedestrians. I haven’t figured out where buses fit in. They’re like whales – slow and big, so everyone gets out of the way when they’re moving, but they’re so slow that all the other vehicles dart around them. Cows are above everything, even pedestrians. You can be arrested for moving a cow off the road.

* Crossing the street: remember Frogger?

* Switches turn on electrical sockets.

* A shrug means yes. And no. People are incredibly expressive with neck movements. I don’t think I could describe it in words. It’s pretty incredible.

* You’ve heard of ‘Spanglish’… In Delhi most people talk ‘Hinglish’

* The crickets here are louder than those in the US. They live inside, come out at night and they just might be invisible.

* Chai (tea with milk, sugar and spices) is served twice a day at work. Several times a week someone gives the office-manager money to go buy some sweets at Evergreen, a local restaurant and ‘sweeterie’ and pass them around with the tea.

* At work, every office, seating anywhere from 1-6 people, has a separate bathroom (no lines, ladies!). There is toilet paper, but I’m told most people prefer the splash-clean method for which there is a bucket next to every toilet.

* Toilet paper: $4 for a 4-pack
* Gum: $2.50 for a pack of Trident
* Soy sauce: $7.50 for a regular sized bottle of Kikkoman.
* Bag of HERR’S Pretzels: ready for this? $12.00!!
* Kilo of Mangoes (about 6): $0.50
* Watermelon: $1
* 20 minute auto-rickshaw ride: $1.50
* Kilo of Potatoes: $0.25
* Latte at Coffee Day, the most prevalent coffee store: $1 for a regular, $1.50 for a large which is exactly the same size if you get it to go.

Our apartment

The Kitchen

Eating Nook Outside the Kitchen

Lajpat Nagar Market

Saturday, June 28: Maria Luisa had to work today, so I went with her to the office and met one of our colleagues, Aarti, for a day of shopping in one of the markets. So while poor Maria Luisa spent 5 hours at a board meeting for the main project she’s working on, I hit “Lajpat Nagar.”

It’s one of those places difficult to describe in words. There were rows and rows of stores, most long and extremely narrow; some so much that it was hard for two people to pass each other. The long and narrow stores were permanent stores with shelves, floors, and electricity. Other stores, mostly the ones in the center, were likely broken down at night. For sale? Fabric and clothes. There were plenty of other things being sold: kitchen ware, purses and bags, some jewelry, but there were not electronic stores, photo stores, phone stores, etc, like at most of the other markets.

We did more looking than buying. Knowing that I’m going to be here for two more months, I didn’t feel the need to get a lot, and wanted to get a sense of things before buying things. I did get a few shirts for the office because I brought very little with me to India, not knowing what I would be expected to wear. But we mostly did a ton of looking, learning, and trying on.

Trying on clothes in a hot, steamy market in India… blech! Only a few stores had changing rooms, and those that did were not always air conditioned. They were usually very cramped ply-wood rooms about the size as a refrigerator box. And if there were a fan, it was a mixed blessing as they were uncovered and within reach, so you had to be very careful not to lift your arms up too high. If you need a chuckle, picture me trying on all styles of Indian clothing, knocking into the walls with my elbows, crouching when I put a top on or off to avoid getting close to the fan (which usually meant my backside or knees or forehead loudly hit the sides of the room), the whole time completely sweaty and having to work really hard just to get the clothes on.

Things typically did not fit very well. The ready-made garments are not made for my height or build. A lot of the styles are like tunics and just by looking at them it seemed like they’d fit most people, but there was something really off about the proportions for me. I’m glad I therefore didn’t buy things assuming they’d be fine. If I want to get a proper Indian outfit, I’ll have to choose the fabric and go to one of the tailors that the women at work have already suggested.

Saturday was also the first time I took a bike-propelled rickshaw. They are extremely cheap: $0.25 or less for a 5 minute ride. My colleague Aarti worked somewhere before which had a program that provided loans to rickshaw drivers for purchasing vs. renting rickshaws. I arrived to our destination bumped and jolted yet with tremendous respect for yet another profession in India.

Saturday was a very long day. After shopping, at around 4:30, I decided to go meet Maria Luisa and Jim for coffee instead of going home. Maria Luisa and I were possibly going to meet some of her acquaintances from the El Salvadoran embassy for a Salsa Night and it didn’t seem worth heading all the way home. I was pretty exhausted (as was she after her 5 hour meeting) so we were both pleased that the outing was postponed. The day continued, however, as we decided to grab a quick bite to eat before heading home so we didn’t have to cook or bother with food for the rest of the night (it was 6:45 by this point). We ended up meeting another American who is in India for the summer for his PhD studies. With someone new as part of the dynamic it was no longer a ‘quick bit to eat’, and became a 2 hour dinner followed by getting a beer at a place that he knew of. Jim was still there so no worrying that we were in an unsafe situation.

The ‘lounge’ was yet another world in this city. Mostly wealthy clientele, and very attentive staff. The inside had tables and chairs on top of a raised floor of aqua-glass cubes lit from within. We had a very nice time there. I enjoyed spending some non-work time with my boss, and it’s always fun to meet someone else and hear about their work and experiences.

Two things were quite frustrating about the lounge: one, they told us they didn’t have the local beers…only imported ones which cost a lot more. Two, we asked for change at the end and they said they didn’t have it. Jim was asking for change to make the rickshaw ride home easier, because rickshaw drivers often have ‘no change’ either. In the entire restaurant, they didn’t have enough change for a 100 Rupee bill. (100 Rupees is the equivalent of $2.50). So we paid the bill with a much larger bill and voila! They had change.

Later that day

The cries were from the little one, who's also here now. I looked outside a few minutes ago and she had the two of them in separate straw baskets. It looked like the 3 year old was just playing, and two seconds later would be bored and up and about again.

This time the woman was doing something with an implement the size of a pinky finger - seemingly digging around the gravel in the gravel/cement sidewalks. I would guess it had something to do with the gravel pattern in the sidewalk...making the grouting more even.

Another sibling

Friday, June 27th: Today the woman was picking up piles that appeared overnight. The piles were of the gravel, trash, bricks, etc. She had a little 'pik' and was chopping away at it. We made eye contact and shared a smile which was nice. Today there is a little girl instead of the two boys. She is an absolutely stunning child...eyes that are what the make-up industry tries to recreate. I'd say she's 3. Quite skinny. Her eyes aren't sad. The eyes of the little one yesterday were really sad. It started to rain and she didn't move closer to the building or take shelter. It's raining much harder now, and I imagine she's now done that. It was really hot this morning, so I don't blame her for soaking up the rain a bit. I hear shouts and cries now. I wonder if that's her or her brother? And are they cries or squeals of play?

The woman by work

Thursday June 26: There is a woman with two kids who is helping to construct the sidewalk across the street. She carries gravel in a wok-shaped piece of metal, moving slowly but consistently all day in the sun. I’ve noticed her kids before: sitting, playing, digging through mounds of cement blocks, garbage and dirt. Today her little one (I’m guessing he’s 18 months or so) has been standing on our side of the street, looking across and crying. His mom, and his older brother of about 4 or 5 has been totally ignoring him. I want to go over and hug him, but can't.

Family from the B&B - Week 1

Excuses why I’m putting on a few pounds

See below...

Reasons why I’m putting on a few pounds

1) We take auto-rickshaws everywhere because of the heat, distance it takes to get places, and safety (i.e. no exercise)
2) Indian food. It has a ton of oil, as it’s what makes the spices pop, and why it tastes so good. Every meal is also eaten with lots of starch… naan, chapattis, roti, all buttered unless you can communicate you want it plain
3) Whole milk
4) We haven’t found a gym yet

Health Care in India is Amazing

Wednesday, June 25, 2008: It has been exactly one week since I wrote the last entry. Much has happened! Right now it’s 10 pm, and we just got back from a traditional dance performance at the Indian Habitat Center (not quite sure what that means, but it’s a beautiful complex with sculpted open areas in the midst of a maze of building). There are offices and art galleries, places to eat, and an auditorium where the dance performance was. It was terrific. There were two young, female dancers doing the equivalent of recitals. Their master teachers were very significant to all there, and their names were printed on the posted signs along with the dancers’ names. We were able to catch snippets of each performance on ML’s video camera, and I’ll post those if possible. There were live musicians and singers who were crucial to the performance. The singers in particular seemed to have a very tough job. I’m curious what their written music looked like.

In the meantime, here are some photos of the dancers.

We were supposed to meet the El Salvadoran Ambassador there. ML was told to contact her through a mutual friend, and they’ve seen each other several times now (once at the El Salvador Embassy Grand Opening, and once at the Ambassador’s house where she was hosting a dinner for her staff). She’s a very nice lady and is really looking out for ML, letting her know about different events and such. Unfortunately, her mother took sick while they were getting ready and when we called them to check in a few minutes before the performance, they were at the hospital. It doesn’t sound too serious, but she clearly must have felt pretty awful to have gone there.

Hospital talk leads me to the other theme of this week. The last entry was about my having a sore neck, and going to the masseuse to try and work out the tightness. The summary of the week is that I stayed home from work Wed/Thu/Fri because of the pain, spending much of the time on my back. Thurs morning I went to a Physical Therapist at a local clinic that was a satellite center of a really good hospital. It is literally 4 blocks away from our apartment. I found him through researching health care in Delhi on the web.

The PT was great. He seemed knowledgeable and was happy to explain things. He ordered an x-ray, diagnosed me as having muscles in spasm and said my x-ray showed the curve is practically gone in my neck, likely due to posture. He recommended moist heat, ultrasound, electric stimulation, stretching, and lying on a rolled up towel for 45 minutes 3 times a day. Muscle relaxants (that somehow didn’t even make me tired) and IBU for the inflammation. The receptionist at the PT clinic got to know me after three days, and would say, “Go on ahead, Sarah” when I came in the door.

Here is a photo of the actual 'script for the x-ray and pills:

The cost of the treatment? $1.25 for the consultation, $5 for two x-rays, $7.50 for the heat/stim/ultrasound treatment from the Doctor. Amazing, eh? I went to him Thur, Fri, and Sat mornings. Saturday while he was stretching my neck there was a twinge and I experienced the worst pain yet and couldn’t find a comfortable position for about 2 minutes. After witnessing that, he said he wanted me to go get an MRI. So that was my Saturday adventure, and my first venture out of the apartment for more than a trip around the corner.

The MRI went smoothly, and thank goodness it wasn’t a fully-closed MRI. It did send you head first into a tube, but there was light coming from the other end so it didn’t feel as closterphobic as I feared. The cost? $100. The results? The individual reading the MRI images wrote: a "small right paramedian posterior disc protrusion compressing the thecal sac at C5-6 level." Back on Google, then WebMD. My best understanding was that it means the disc is bulging slightly, and pressing into the ‘sac’ that holds the spinal cord and spinal fluid. Treatment is ice/heat, anti-inflammatory meds, and rest, and it should go away in 6 weeks. With that knowledge, I went to the PT the next morning (Sunday – he came into work because he didn’t want me to have to wait until Monday – amazing, eh?)

His read? “This is great!” Excuse me?! He said the MRI was basically normal and that there is nothing else to be done aside from what we were doing. Should I ice it? Nope. Just heat. Should I keep taking anti-inflammatory medication/muscle relaxants? Nope. Go ahead and stop that as well.
I began to feel the need for a second opinion, partly b/c the MRI diagnosis showed a ‘protrusion’ and because the severity of the pain just didn’t seem normal. I was getting side to side movement back, but it was EXCRUCIATING to tip my head backwards. So back onto Google, and a call to the US Embassy to get a recommendation for a good orthopedist. They didn’t know if the people on their list specialized in the spine versus hand versus knee, so the next call was to the Indian Spine Injury Center which is two blocks from where I live! The coincidences have been remarkable.

Off to a neck specialist Tuesday, 10:45. The Dr. asked more questions, checked reflexes and a number of additional things, and came to the same conclusion. The MRI shows the protrusions but is essentially normal. He projected 3-4 more days of pain, and then it should be almost better and I’d be ready to start some stretches and strengthening. He wanted me back on the muscle relaxants/ IBU to stop the process of pain and spasm, and stopping PT for a week. The straight neck was evident in the MRI as well, and he said that is what needs to be addressed to prevent this in the future. The cost? For a specialist, no insurance? $8.50.

Hearing the same conclusion from him made me finally feel better. I stopped worrying that the wrong movement was going to cause irreparable damage, or that the severity of pain meant severity of problem. It’s been two days since seeing him. The pain is still there, I have to say, and I’ve pretty much learned how not to aggravate it, so I’m not sure if it’s really better. If I try to tip my head back it still pinches terribly, but I try to do that as little as possible so as not to keep it ‘injured.’ So the jury is still out to some degree, but I do feel it’s on the mend.

I had a few cultural observations at the spinal center that I wanted to share. I walked in and said I had an appointment. Did I know the name of the Dr? No. (I wasn’t able to understand it on the phone, despite asking 3 times). I did know it was 10:45. They looked at a hand-written book. Ms. Sarah? Yes, that’s me. He sent me around the corner to the Cash Counter. Could he please write down the name of the Doctor for me? Yes.

There were three people at the cash counter, standing shoulder to shoulder right up against the counter, possible there together. I stood a foot or so behind. A gentleman came up and stepped in front of me, right up against them and between their shoulders. The moment she was done with them, he placed his paper right in front of her nose. She helped him, and two more men came up and worked their way in front of me, too. She stayed focused on the first guy, and I inched forward, not sure if I was going to commit a major cultural no-no if I worked my way in, too. I did it anyway, as subtly as I could, and God bless this lady, she looked me in the eye and took me next.

I noticed the whole time there that the men spoke for the women, even if the women were the patients. Most people were there as couples (or two women, two men). The lady didn’t ask me for my last name. Ms. Sarah was good enough for creating hospital records.

Phew. Long entry again. I will try to write more frequently, or perhaps just more succinctly. I'd been trying to keep my computer use down, but now I'm getting back up to normal usage!

Miss you all!
Sarah B.

Sitting in the Stocks

Wed, June 18th: Tuesday morning at the office I moved my neck too quickly and got the most intense kink in my neck that I’ve ever experienced. It got increasingly worse as the day went on, and by 3:00 I was researching massage places. I got a recommendation from Pradeep whose friend owns an Ayurvedic Center right around the corner from the office. We went there around 5:30 and I was seen by the Ayurvedic Doctor, a young guy who examined my neck, asked some questions, and recommended the following treatment: Myaxyl Muscle Relaxant Oil, Myaxyl Herbs -with an Ayurvedic Massage and Steam Bath optional but encouraged. Maria Luisa has had very tense shoulders for the past week as well and decided if they had appointments available she would get one as well.

Sometimes the most phenomenal experiences are those that come when you have no expectations. I’d heard of Ayurvedic massage before, and knew it had something to do with oil, but that was it. Let me do my best to describe what I experienced.

I was led into a room by two women dressed in green uniform dresses. They were friendly but shy. I was given a robe and ‘thin, flexible, cloth-like panties’ to put on. There was a changing room. Nope. A bathroom complete with shower. Hmmmm. I came out and was told to sit on a knee-high stool. One of the women stood behind me and after a 15 second pregnant pause, the purpose of the shower became clear: she poured warm oil onto my head and worked it into my hair for five minutes. 55 minutes to go.

They replaced the stool with a step ladder and helped me up onto the massage table, which merits thorough description. It was made of a gorgeous deep, red wood, and was a waist high table with a 2 inch ridge on the outside. The place to lie down was not completely flat – I think the best way to describe it is like lying on top of a beautifully crafted, smooth coffin (i.e. a slight upward curve). They started me out on my back and did a nice face massage. 50 minutes to go. The two of them then stripped the robe off of me and with a signal to each other began to massage me with synchronized, energetic, continual (literally) strokes that went the length of my arms, legs, stomach, and at times whole body. Each stroke was expertly preceded by the application of warm, scented oil until I was completely oiled up.

My mind shifted between trying to still my thoughts and enjoy it, and giving space to a David Sedaris-type commentary running through my mind. It was not a ‘calm’ experience. The wood was beautiful and smooth, but solid as a rock. The fast movements pressed boney points like elbows, wrists, hip bones, knees, ankles and tops of the feet into the wood with considerable pressure. It was funny thinking about Maria Luisa in a room right next to me and picturing her slipping and sliding all around the table with a shocked look on her face. She later confessed she was thinking the same thing and had practically laughed out loud. 35 minutes to go.

They wanted me to get on my side but my neck pain wouldn’t allow it. It was bearable to lie on my other side, so they positioned me and went to work. One of the funniest things was how they kept saying “side, side”- telling me to stay on my side. What they didn’t do was explain how I was supposed to keep my oiled body still on an upwardly curved, oiled piece of wood while they massaged me with powerful, fast strokes. The other funny moment was that they had me sit up with my legs and arms straight out in front of me, and did the massaging technique with me in that position. ML said she felt like a dog at the vet. If you’re not howling with laughter, you had to be there. And you really should experience this at some point! 10 minutes to go.

With the massage over, they sat me on a stool inside a wooden ‘cabinet’ that had a place for my head to pop out (picture old fashioned stocks), and slanted doors that closed like cellar doors. That was the steam chamber, and I sat there for about 10 minutes while they cleaned everything up and got the room ready for the next person. When they were done, I said, “ok” thinking that would signal I was ready to get out. I had probably sweated out several liters of water by that time. They said ‘ok’ back. I waited a moment, and said, ‘ok’ in a different tone of voice, to which they both said ‘ok’ back. After another moment I tried again and got the tone of voice right, because they understood I was ready to get out. Phew.

It's not over yet: one of the ladies led me into the bathroom, turned on the shower, sat me down on a stool and soaped up my back. She then left me with shampoo, soap, a towel, and warm water. It was the first hot shower I’ve had since arriving here. Even our wonderful little apartment has only cold water. So I showered and got dressed as quickly as I could, because I could hear they were waiting for me. When I came out they put some orange ayurvedic powder on my neck, earlobes, a spot on my scalp, and under my nose for me to inhale. It smelled pleasant, kind of like ‘earth.’ Would I like something to drink? Sure. In comes a red, tasteless liquid that was ‘eeps’ hot! Wasn’t expecting that. I thankfully had a hair brush with me so I tidied up, put my hair into a pony tail and came out into the waiting room. Maria Luisa emerged a moment later and we paid for the services. For me it was a whopping $30 for the entire thing (the dr. consult, medicated oil, herbs, and hour-long massage). Amazing. The massage alone would be $22.50.

The rick-shaw ride home was the bumpiest yet and it unfortunately undid any good the massage had done for my neck. I had a pretty painful night’s sleep, and the pain is so bad I stayed home from work. That's where I'm writing from now. I hope to write an update tomorrow that the pain has dissipated or started to improve, because if not I’ll need to get this checked out. I’ve never felt so much pain in my neck before, and it’s less of a side-to-side pain (although moving my neck side to side does hurt a great deal); it’s more of a severe pinch if I try to lift my head up, or God forbid back. Any diagnoses out there? Anyone want to scold me for applying heat versus ice in the 1st 24 hours?

Thanks for reading, if you’ve gotten this far. I realized as I started writing that I wanted to remember the details of that experience and wrote much more than I intended.

I miss you all!

Sarah B.

Pig in a Pig Pen

Monday, June 16th: Tonight we found our way to Le Marche, a ‘western style’ supermarket. The store is narrow and winds up (and down) three stories. It has most things we’d want to get, and get them we did! Antibacterial cleaning spray; cheddar cheese; fresh chicken breasts; yogurt; lettuce; pasta and sauce; cous cous; olive oil; bread. Yum!! The experience gets this title because that’s how we felt - and probably looked - scuttling around, more excited each time we saw something we needed or wanted. We came home (via auto-rickshaw) with several bags apiece. This time when we got home we didn’t feel the need to wash everything (everything) with soap and water like we did after returning from the local market. We ate a meal of chicken, cous cous and vegetables; refreshingly bland.

Moving Day

Sunday, June 15th: Today we moved into our new apartment in Vasant Kunj. It’s a little haven inside! Smooth marble(esque) floors, ceiling fans and A/C units in the living room and bedrooms. One of the bedrooms is on a separate floor and has a sitting area as well as a bathroom. The other one has a little balcony and tiny desk tucked into a ceiling overhang. It’s a bit far from the office, but I definitely think it will allow us to regenerate at night.

Just getting here was an adventure. We took our first taxi (vs. auto-rickshaw) because of our luggage. Taxi's charge about twice as much (meaning $3.50 instead of $1.75 for a 30 min. drive). The adventure came because it was raining and some of the roads were flooded (1-2 feet of water). The taxi stalled when going through one of the pools and from then on stalled out at least 50 more times…no exaggeration. It was hot and sticky, and we had to keep the windows mostly closed because of the rain. It was also nerve-wracking to be sitting there in the middle of the road – sitting ducks for mischief or oncoming cars. Traffic was going slow, though, and we were not the only ones stalled, so cars still running had to drive around an obstacle of stopped vehicles. We finally became the movers in the maze and made our way to our new apartment.

Once there we turned on the fans and sat there until we were cooled down and re-energized. We figured out how to use the lights and showers (it's different everywhere and requires a specific sequence of switches to be pressed) and were taken to the market by the ‘house boy,’ a man named Santosh of about 25 or so. We learned later from the rental agent that he will also do our laundry and clean every day, services that are included in the price of the apartment. We asked whether we should tip him and were told that it’s best to tip him at the end of the month. Santosh is going to be a huge part of our survival here. For example, he’s arranging for the same auto-rickshaw person to take us into the city every morning, at a discount. Without him we’d be charged ‘foreigner’ price and not be sure to even get one. Another example: Maria Luisa took a shower and couldn’t turn off the water (I wasn’t kidding when I said things like that are complex). He came and showed us how to do it. He has a very gentle spirit, and I’m incredibly thankful for him.

The short trip to the market was the second adventure of the day. It was raining and we had to navigate puddles and piles of broken-up bricks in the roads. The sidewalks were not always accessible b/c of the puddles. We were wearing flip flops, and I began to get very nervous about my feet getting the street water on them (because of the presence of animal dung), and it was too late to turn back. We both had umbrellas but still returned to the house completely soaked. It’s the beginning of the monsoon season, so we’ll have to get used to it (!)

We now have bread, tomatoes, peppers, onions, yogurt, milk, juice, mangoes, watermelon, cucumbers and lemons. We cooked up the tomatoes/peppers/onions for dinner along with toast, cucumber slices and watermelon for dessert. We’ve just cleaned up from dinner, and I can literally feel the vitamins circulating in my body. We haven’t been able to eat raw vegetables since coming here because they are very likely rinsed in the water, and after a week (two weeks for Maria Luisa) we’re really craving them.

It’s now 10:15 and I’m going to head to bed. I won’t likely be able to send this note until the morning because the internet in the house is not working. That’ll be the task tomorrow night, if we have energy after hitting a more ‘western’ supermarket to get some more food. We’re also hoping to find a place to exercise and do yoga.

Tomorrow work starts again! I’m looking forward to it. I hope I can stay awake past 3:30, unlike last week. I’m just about on Indian time now. I'm surprised it took this long.

Love to you all,

Sarah

p.s. Happy Father's Day, Daddio! I love you!!

Trip to the Market

Saturday, June 14th: The first non-work day in Delhi. Slept in until 10. I had another kind of ‘off’ night of sleeping, so I was glad to get some good sleep in the morning hours.

We decided to go to the markets to buy some weather-appropriate clothes for work (the operative words are 'thin fabric.' By the time we left the B&B it was 2:00 pm somehow. We haggled a price with an auto rickshaw driver and off we went. The market we went to is Connaught Place, a massive rotary with 10 roads spoking off. (Spell check didn’t like that word, so I guess I just made it up, but you get the picture).

We’d been advised to go to a store called ‘FabIndia.’ Clothes are pre-cut (not the case everywhere) and very good quality. Although more expensive than in the local markets, you’re able to try the clothes on, something that proved to be very important. (Maria Luisa and I both were not the sizes we are at home – they clearly don’t have vanity sizing in India…). And, ‘expensive’ means embroidered shirts were $12 and pants $9. But, compared to shirts being $5 in the local mkts, we won’t go to FabIndia often. I needed pants, though, as I only brought one pair of long pants in addition to jeans. After trying on a number of different styles, I stuck to a familiar cut and got some simple linen pants. I also bought a gorgeous embroidered, long-sleeved, very light-cotton shirt. All of the clothes were really stunning.

We stopped by another market (Sarojini), very close to where we work. It was what you think of when you picture an Indian market. There were tons of stalls, all close together, with rows and rows of bright fabrics, small plastic toys, vegetables and fruits down one row, shoes down another, and countless little food stands of fried dough and other goodies.

We’d planned to take pictures today, but never felt comfortable taking out the camera. It is very crowded, and people are constantly coming up to you asking if you want to buy something, or to come visit their shops. Kids offer to carry your bags, and will literally follow you around until you say yes or until you’ve ignored them for long enough. As a person who values relationship and human interaction, it is an awful feeling to intentionally ignore another human being, let alone a child. At the same time, it was very annoying and as time went on I resented their insistence. By the time we headed home (~7:00) we were exhausted and I couldn’t wait to lie down with some peace.

That wasn’t in the cards, as we’d told the B&B family we would make them salsa fresca (Maria Luisa's El Salvador recipe). They then invited us to eat with them, which was lovely...and required the last bit of social energy I had. As you can imagine, it was real Indian food! Not drastically different, but somehow still more authentic. It was flavorful, but not over-spiced like they at the restaurants. You could identify each flavor instead of experiencing a single, powerful blast of spiciness.

I’m now sitting quietly on my bed, finally alone and reflecting on the day, thinking about tomorrow. Maria Luisa and I are moving to our new place in the morning. It’ll be great to be there, as it’s very homey and more spacious than the 1-room we have right now.

Speaking of pics, Maria Luisa sent me some photos which I’ll share with you. The first three are of her and some of the staff at the Taj Mahal last week. The guy in the van (picture 1) is my boss, Jim. The Indian woman to the right in picture 3 is Charu, someone I will work with closely this summer. The last three photos are women from a focus-group of micro-credit recipients in Jaipur, a city 5 hours south west of Delhi.

I’ll stop there. I have to pack up a bit, and the plan is to get to bed early tonight.

Missing you all a lot.

Sarah