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).
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
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.
Monday, July 14, 2008
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.
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.
Saturday, July 5, 2008
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.
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
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
Friday, July 4, 2008
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, $1.50 for a large which is exactly the same size if you get it to go.
* Honking means: “I’m coming, watch out.” Or, “I wish the light were green.” “The light turned green .05 seconds ago.” “I’m passing you.” “You’re passing me.” Or, “It’s #$%%& 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.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
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.
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 con
struct 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.
struct 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. 
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
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
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