Tuesday, August 09, 2005
Take Note.. Ahem..
Sunday, August 07, 2005
12 Dollar Ham, and The Day Jesus Showed Up on My Dashboard
And Jesus. You don't get a lot of Jesus here. I mean - down south they have a lot of Dutch Catholic colonies, we have a large Mormon base here in Delhi, in Kerala they even have a (albeit dwindling) Jewish community. But it's not exactly out there in the way that all the Hindu dieties are, you don't see 8 foot Jesus's painted on shops like you do Ganesh.
We're not a religious family. Spriritual - I'd like to think so - but religious.. not quite. So imagine my surprise when I hop into my car on Friday morning to find our new driver has a lovely little Jesus card on the dashboard. (not that a little help in Delhi traffic wouldn't be appreciated, don't get me wrong.) The strange thing about this (obviously Indian) Jesus, is that he appeared to be standing in front of a depiction of the White House.
This place boggles my mind. What will be normal when I leave here? Here's hoping for a pork eating Jesus with an elephant trunk. It'll make it homey. God Bless America.
Saturday, August 06, 2005
A Lifetime a Day..
Lately, I've been dwelling on all the things that I haven't had a chance to do while I'm here. (It always seems like there will be so much more time - until time is suddenly at a premium, and I never seem to have enough money to buy more.) So, for my own peace of mind, I've decided to put down, for posterity, (which I think sound too much like posterior, and reminds me I should get to the gym today..) what I have done in this part of the world.
- walked barefoot through the Taj Mahal - twice
- rafted the "Holy River Ganga" in the Himalayan Mountains
- travelled for 8 days, and up 6500 ft into Manali in the Himalayas
- survived a 17 hour bus ride from Manali to New Delhi on an Indian Bus careening through the mountains at mach speed.
- ridden atop an elephant up to an ancient fort
- lived on a boat and recieved my advanced open water diver for scuba diving (in Myanmar/Burma)
- did a 30 minute night dive, dove to 30 metres, and learned underwater navigation..(not all on one dive) (in Myanmar)
- climbed Sigiriya Rock (in Sri Lanaka)
- visited a tea plantation and drank the best cup of tea of my life (in Sri Lanka)
- fed a baby elephant a bottle of milk (in Sri Lanka)
- been to 4 countries - Sri Lanka, Thailand, Myanmar, India (and hopefully Pakistan soon!)
- seen a huge number of World Heritage Sites
When I list them out like that - they just seem like so much less than their worth as a whole - how they've changed me. Of course, the things you learn completeing these adventures are far more valuable.. well, than anything. Like the fact that I now know that I can survive on dahl and chapatis for 8 days. That I can sleep on dirty sheets, not take a shower, and still enjoy travelling. (Me!) And the little things you do in between these things - I've sat on a rock in a Himalayan waterfall, surrounded by Nepalese goat herders and white long haired goats with blue eyes - and knit myself a scarf. I've stopped for chai in the middle of the night to sit with an Israeli, a Briton, a French girl and an Australian and watched Hindi Kung-Foo movies. I learned to tie a sari and dance like an Indian. I can speak a passable ammount of the language.
I'm proud of myself for what I've accomplished here, for the limits I've pressed myself to - for seeing what I do everyday - and keeping my eyes open. Sure - I've got 22 days left here. But in this country? In 22 days, you can live, and learn, a lifetime.
Muggy August Playlist
1. Four Hours in Washington - M. Ward
2. Dig the Lightening -Robbers on High Street
3. What they Found- Octopus Project
4. Losing Streak - Eels
5. One Day Without -Keren Ann
6. Spit it Out -Brendan Benson
7. She's so Cold -The Golden Republic
8. Radio Campaign - M. Ward
9. My Lady Story -Antony and the Johnsons
10. I'd Rather Dance with You - Kings of Convienience
11. Apply Some Pressure - Maximo Park
12. Just Got Robbed - The Sights
10. Wandering Star -Portishead
11. Karen - The National
12. Different Days -L'altra
Thursday, August 04, 2005
Damn This Idle Cursor...
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
Only 33 Sleeps
Monday, August 01, 2005
But I just washed my hands! (of you.)
Mumbai is flooding. 1 metre of rain in 24 hours. And do you know why it’s flooding? Because of the British. Because the sewer and drainage system that was build 100 years ago isn’t quite up to snuff, and what with the no maintenance it’s been given, I don’t see why. Limey bastards. There’s plenty of ditches left to dig yet my friend.. And what, you’re not telling me the independent country of India should have to do it? Saints in Heaven. Deliver us.
Friday, July 29, 2005
Who's the Fairest
Thursday, July 28, 2005
Worth Two in the Bush..
Who Knew That 1 Less Person in a City of 15 Million Would Make a Difference?
I went with Bryan to the airport last night, to eke out what few minutes I had left with him. He should be almost in Frankfurt now, and then on to the US. It felt like he'd been leaving for such a long time, that we've been preparing for this - and yet nothing could have gotten me ready to have to walk away from him, to turn around and walk out of the airport. It's one of the hardest things I've had to do in a long, long time.
I've travelled with him, laughed with him, been sick with him - he's been my best friend. And still is. Two and a half months and I'll be in Washington.. It seems like such a very long time. I'm sure it will go quickly, as they say - but for now? Now.. Delhi is just empty.
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
I'm a friggin' genius..
Luckily I remembered you can use that nifty "post via e-mail" deal - so here I am! It's not going to be pretty, but it will do until I'm connected at home. Sorry for the delay in figuring that out - my synapses just haven't been firing post haste this week. So much so, that I actually have my hair braided today. Braided. Right.
I see Bryan off to the airport today.. Definately not exactly a red letter day. 29 days left in India without my best friend. Great. Who exactly is going to tease me about my dirty feet and my aversion to cooked vegetables and point out my saggy butt jeans? Hunny.. I can't wait to see you in Washington. I'll keep my feet extra dirty just for you.
Camping.. Squatting.. Really.. Is there a difference?
This is only the stem of the cherry that's been put on my over-hectic banana split of a schedual. We just moved houses, and are no longer living on the embassy grounds (interesting choice in these days of murder and mayhem in the world) but in the West End of Delhi, about a 15 minute drive from work. At the same time, Bryan has been packed up and leaves for Washington tomorrow night (Thursday). At the same time as this, I've got my first real taste of what real, honest to goodness 3rd World sickness, and have lost 5 pounds in the process. And I've changed jobs (halfway), changed offices... *phew* I'm exhausted, and am ready for a break. I just need to get through this week without pulling my hair out, and I'll be ok. I think.
I can't believe that Bryan is on his way already. It seems like just yesterday that we were in Riskikesh, in Rajasthan, at the Black and White Ball.. and all of a sudden he's on his way. We've decided to keep seeing each other - there's no reason to break up just because of the distance. I'm going down (up?) to Washington on a long weekend in October, and for a break in November. And we'll see when he can come up to Canada. I'm kind of excited. Other than Bryan (and the monuments, and Georgetown and all that cool stuff) the Corcoran Gallery is there (with Frieda Kahlo, Jackson Pollock and Georgia O'Keefe all inside!!) and the Smithsonian as well. So I have a feeling I might like Washington. Especially now that there's no beltway sniper. ;-)
So because Bryan's belongings all go over to Washington in a sea shipment, they got packed up and shiped about a week ago. He was basically left with the Embassy furnishings, and the "welcome" kit, which just kills me. Utility pots and pans and three bowls and a wine opener etc.. It's great. We've basically been camping out in this huge empty house, sans tv, music.. anything. It's awesome. We can run laps in the dining room. It's this interesting mix of feeling like squatters and.. hm.. well.. Maybe just squatters. It's fun though. We get to eat everything on the floor.
My new house is pretty nice - semi-colonial/victorian/indian in white. A nice little part of town. Closer to some things, farther to others - kinda like whenever you move. *laugh* My mum likes it, which essentially, is all that really matters in the long run. It will be nice, I have to admit, to be off the compound and away from the feeling that everyone is watching you - I'm happy for that, in the very least.
This turned out to be much longer than I had intended! I hope all is well with everyone. I won't be in contact much this next little while, as our internet is out. Take care of each other.
Naked.. Aggression?
So I decided to start reading some William S. Burroughs. I finished up "Queer".. which was pretty amazing for it's pretty blunt portrayal of homosexuality and addiction. I have to say - it's probably the most straightforward, no words minced account of both. I really admire the way it was written - and when you finish reading it.. and see that it was written sometime in the 40's - you have to give the guy some credit. (Even if it wasn't published in it's entirety until like, 1980.) Even if it wasn't a thouroughly enjoyable novel (he makes you feel his addiction and withdrawl with such accuracy that you swear you've got the shakes) it was definately a good book. So, I decided to take on "Naked Lunch" - his most famous book, also centered on his personal struggle with addiction. (To everything. Litterally.)
This may be one of the only books (other than Little Women.. which is funny that they are in the same catagory) that I may not finish. Gruesome, rude, disgusting, displacing, uncomfortable.. I'm all for books that make you think. That make you uncomfortable. It means that the writer has put you outside of what you traditionally find acceptable, you're stretching your boundaries like a literary aneuryism. It's not pleasant, but its neccessary. "Naked Lunch" goes so far beyond that. It's a nightmare of perversity (somewhere along the lines of the Marquis de Sade - but worse, if you can believe it.) and inhuman, and inhumane passages lie one after another
Perhaps what's worse.. is that some of it's good. That some of the ideas and feelings are palpable they are so well presented. He succeeds in saying everything that everyone else will not - but sometimes people don't say things for good reason. But overall - it's just repetative, like some drug riddled nightmare that you just can't wake up from, with each and every page. I keep expecting the story to change, that it will move forward and progress - but it just gets progressively worse and more depraved and heartwrenching.
Which is.. perhaps.. the most apt portrayal of addiction that there is.
You Can Wait
I wouldn’t want to be of an ethnic minority and late for work in
Here are the facts - a young, foreign gentleman was being tailed by 4 plainclothes policemen, when he entered into the London Metro system. Given the state of affairs in
The London Police have since apologized, as he appears to be without connection to anyone they were looking for. But with this mornings news - a raid on a house, which just happens to be the same house that this young man was living in. Coincidences like that.. Aren’t coincidence.
They’ve got a shoot to kill policy. They’ve advised the public of this - you will not be getting shot in the arm, in the leg - you will be killed. If you’ve got a bomb in your backpack, we do not want to disable your legs.
I think they did what they were supposed to - if that guy had gotten on the train, and had had a bomb, and had killed dozens of people - the uproar would have been incredible at those four policemen.
So maybe - just to be safe - catch the next train. Do you really need to run?
Monday, July 18, 2005
That's Some Freaky Economics
Just Wait Until I Get These Training Wheels Off..
Friday, July 15, 2005
When I Wendt Away..
When I was in Sri Lanka, I fell in love with this photographer, Lionel Wendt. Unfortunately, his best photographs are nowhere to be found online, but I got to see a number of them while I was there. He lived and worked in Sri Lanka, after first practicing law and studying music in London. If you ever get a chance to see an exhibition of his, or even just pick up a book on him, please do. Or hey - you can come for tea and look at mine.
Oh Margaret...
"Allons enfants de la Patrie..."
Thursday, July 14, 2005
Just One of Those Days
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
A Curious Book in the Daytime
Universal Laws of Passport Photos
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
Be Proud!
An NGO in Kenya called "Pride Africa" has started a division called "Drum Net". It really demonstrates how information really is power in the world today.
When you're a small farmer (anywhere in the world) your costs are higher. You're the only one transporting your crop, in a truck that may not be full, to a market where you may not get the best price, because you're selling so little. So what Drum Net does is distributes cell phones to rural farmers. When a particular farmer is ready to sell his, lets say, baby corn, he calls Drum Net, who gives him the numbers to contact other farmers ready to sell. They then hire a truck that is then filled to capacity (as opposed to each farmer hiring a truck) and pool their crops so they can get the best price. Drum Net also provides them with the information they need to get the best price, so that they don't get ripped off. Neat hey? It was really neat to see these rural farmers talking on cell phones, planning babycorn car pools.
Best of all? Rural farmers profits have gone up 40%. And their crops are getting better because of all the info provided by Drum Net on new farming practices.
Now, your chance to be proud to be a Canadian - This project is funded in part by IDRC, (International Development Research Centre) which is Canadian!
Monday, July 11, 2005
Nice House..
Saturday, July 09, 2005
Thank-You Sri Lanka
It’s true that this may seem incredibly similar in some respects - but to be honest.. The difference is staggering.
Friday, July 08, 2005
Step.. One.. Two..
Thursday, July 07, 2005
Thursday, July 7th, 3:30pm
Of course, terrorism is still just speculation. Right. And a swastika is just a plus sign doing cartwheels.
Take care London, you're in our hearts.
Under a Cocoanut Tree
Limited Edition Sold Out
She was of the old mold - Rich, classy, kind, (which I suppose, sets her appart anyways) well dressed. Part of the "ladies who lunch" crowd, but also chair of MOMA, charities, the list goes on. Maybe marriage will give Paris Hilton that kind of drive. Right.
She said often -"Bury me naked. I know there's shopping where I'm going." What a lady.
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
Strike Two
Alright, enough bad news. The good news is that we’re all ok, safe here at the embassy, and enjoying the cooler weather that the monsoon has brought. I hope you’re all well, times like this I miss Canada immensely. Take care of each other.
Friday, July 01, 2005
Bliss
Monday, June 27, 2005
To The Last Page..
“Things Fall Apart” was a inimitably sad book, on so many levels. Personal, familial, global, historical – I wasn’t too sad to reach the end, just sad that it had such an ending. I’m not sure if I would recommend it…maybe you just have to read it yourself and see.
Up next – “One Hundred Years of Solitude” – Gabriel Garcia Marquez
- “This Side of Paradise” – F. Scott Fitzgerald
Sunday, June 26, 2005
Some Thoughts for the Day. Like You Need More.
"I never give them hell. I just tell the truth and they think it's hell." ~Harry S. Truman
"When I tell any truth, it is not for the sake of convincing those who do not know it, but for the sake of defending those that do." ~William Blake
"We do not err because truth is difficult to see. It is visible at a glance. We err because this is more comfortable." ~Alexander Solzhenitsyn
"If we don't believe in freedom of expression for people we despise, we don't believe in it at all." -Noam Chomsky
"The propagandist's purpose is to make one set of people forget that certain other sets of people are human." -Aldous Huxley
I Need Some Help Mr. Bigstuff..
2. Golden Touch – Razorlight
3. Rythem – Awol 1
4. Annie’s Parlour – Kid Koala
Something Stormy This Way Comes.
Not too much going on this side of the world. I leave tomorrow night for Colombo, Sri Lanka, and am back the following Monday. It seems to have completely snuck up on me, I keep thinking that I’m not leaving for at least another week. I can’t believe that it’s already the end of June.
The weekend was lovely, a nice break. Bryan and I built a fort in his living room, with sheets and the dining room chairs. It was a perfect, grey, rainy day to do it. So we wore our toques and ate peanuts and drew pictures of log cabins (Bryan) and listened to Cat Power and Nightmares on Wax. I haven’t built a fort in years, and as Bryan commented, it seemed to take a lot more work when we were kids. Ain’t that the truth. It’s just about the only thing that’s gotten easier with age.
It was my Mum’s birthday yesterday, so we had a big dinner, ate way too much food and laughed so hard. That’s definitely something that I hope to bring to my own family – the amazing laughter and food that has always graced our table. I always feel like I’m getting a gift being able to sit at a table with my family.
That’s about it! I have to find some time today to pack and get ready for Sri Lanka. This weather just makes me want to drink tea and sleep and listen to jazz. Which worries me, since the monsoon lasts for a few months. Productivity may be a little low in the next while. *smile* Take care everyone!
Thursday, June 23, 2005
Cooking Lessons a la Tibet
It was so much fun. Dolma is about as big as a minute, I think the top of her head comes maybe to my chin, and when I stand at 5’2” (5’3” on my passport…) that’s pretty tiny. She’s got this endearing gold tooth and a head of long long black hair that’s curiously free of grey and always pulled so properly back into a big bun. She’s got the most beautiful, face altering smile, and she sticks her tongue out when she gets really excited. She could be anywhere from 50 years old to 150.. I have no clue. Her English isn’t great, but it’s a hell of a lot better than my Tibetan, so we get along pretty well. Plus, there is something that’s so familiar, so universal, about one woman teaching another how to cook something; most of the time our grins did more instructing than our words.
So we drank a little South African beer (which made Dolma delightfully giddy) and chopped chicken and made dough and laughed and laughed. She’s just so funny – I can see when she’s standing behind me that I’m doing it wrong because her little hands kept jumping forward, wanting to fix everything. *laugh* The ingredients and all the parts are pretty easy to make, it’s the hand-momo-coordination that you need to make the cool dough designs that just killed me. It was so much fun. At the end I was covered in chicken and ginger and dough and tomato – but it was so worth it. We all stood around the boiling pot as they steamed, waiting to eat them. Which we promptly did as soon as they were done. So now I’ve got an authentic Tibetan momo recipe, written on the back of the “Communist Party of Nepal (Marxist-Leninist) Manifesto” which for some reason, was the only paper in my purse.
Anybody interested in momo making lessons, I’ll give them to you for the price of a new winter scarf, a haircut, or some South African beer.
Monday, June 20, 2005
A Dictator's Doritos
For instance, the young man who was so well bred that he almost said “Pleased to meet you” upon Sadam introducing himself.. when (and I quote) “My inner monologue had just kicked in, and now, I was like, Geez, you’re not pleased to meet him, he’s a dictator!” No word of a lie, this is on CNN.
My particular favourite was when they were speaking about Sadam’s favourite foods. Apparently, though his mind is on the loop, his bowels are regular with his daily requested cereal – Raisin Bran. #1 Choice Among Colorectal Surgeons and Dictators alike! 2 Scoops of Infidels in Every Box!
Like two children, these marines spoke in awe of the dictators penchant for Doritos. They would give him a “huge family sized bag” and “in ten minutes, it would be like… gone.” In a single sitting, they gasped! Yes, millions of Kurds and Shi'ites.. but a family sized bag of Doritos?
Pleased to meet you Sadam. Nice to see your other side.
Just 10 Pages.. Please.. a Literary Dime Bag..
“Lady Chatterley’s Lover” – D.H. Lawrence (Not what you’d think – but 10 times better)
“Middlesex” – Jeffrey Eugenides (Has pushed “Love in the Time of Cholera” to a tie for favourite book – probably is one of the best books of the past 10 years.)
“Mother Night” – Kurt Vonnegut (Deliciously dark humour –a wonderful read.)
“A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius” – Dave Eggers (Painfully real. Made me love my mother.)
“Down and Out in Paris and London” – George Orwell (The pleasures of being poor in Paris – who says only having chocolate and bread to eat is a bad thing?)
Up next – “Miss Smilla’s Feeling for Snow” – Peter Hoeg
- “The Old Man and the Sea” – Ernest Hemingway
- “Things Fall Apart” – Chinua Achebe
If anyone has some suggestions.. please let me know. I’ve been going off a mixed list of Pulitzer prize winners and New York Times ten best lists etc etc – But nothing is better than real life references.
Sunday, June 19, 2005
Waxing Happy
Frying My Canadian Bacon
The heat really doesn’t do too much for ones appearance either. Make-up is just a lost cause, as is doing your hair; after an hour in the heat, both of them have slid down around your waist and proceed to stay there. This lovely thing happens where your ankles swell and your toes get burnt by the sun, while the rest of you miraculously avoids getting a tan at all. Meanwhile, your sunglasses are creating some kind of oven between the lenses and your face, so that you have to take them off every 5 minutes lest you parboil your eyeballs. Allowing, of course, all the sweat on your brow to rush down and sting your blinking eyes that have just been exposed to ten million UVB/UVA rays.
While all this is happening, your body is trying to rid itself of any excess weight, usually in the form of sweat, not fat, as I’ve instructed it so many times. I’ve discovered that places that I never knew sweat – do indeed do so, and at alarming rates. The back of ones knees for instance. Or your ears. My favourite, of course, is when it gets so hot that I appear to be lactating. Always attractive.
The mornings and evenings offer little, if any reprieve at all. It’s already 30 degrees by 8:30am, with a usual projected high of about 45. 50 degrees when we’re really lucky. The evening is pretty much the same. It doesn’t go down past 25-30 often.
So, my bigger question is – how on earth am I going to live through a Canadian winter again? Where my hottest day here and my coldest day there have a difference of almost 100 degrees between them? I’ll be praying for a blowdryer then.. I have no doubt.
Thursday, June 16, 2005
A Dusty Update
Everything is well here – wonderfully well. Bryan and I have been playing explorers and driving all around Delhi listening to mixed tapes and getting horribly lost and laughing and yelling and doing all those things that seem amplified inside a car. (Or.. as Bryan refers to it.. “The toaster on wheels”. Which isn’t altogether an untrue description of the Qualis.)
We’ve been exploring antique shops and imagining houses and yard to put the treasures in; covered in dust and the incredibly heat. My favourite so far had almost three floors of absolute wonder. Armoires and couches and tables...coffee tables as big as dining room tables, marble arches bigger than my living room. Shelves of antique toys, little wooden elephants on wheels (which, I caved and bought and secretly stashed for an unimagined child of mine that might one day pull it along a sidewalk, unaware of the story of where their mummy picked it up..) little horses and camels… It was wonderful.
Bryan’s attempting to get his couches reupholstered before returning home, so we were also on the hunt (in the land of textiles; it really was a hunt – which surprised me.) for that particular fabric that would be perfect to buy in bolts of 35 metres and match the lovely furniture he bought. It was worse than prom dress shopping – and I have to say that I wasn’t too much of a help! *smile* It ended up that the place we dismissed at 10 in the morning was the place we ended back up at 6 in the evening, after a day of zipping around the city, positively hot and lost and feeling for all the world that there really couldn’t be worse traffic.
In all honesty.. I think things like that only make people closer, better. Especially here in Delhi, when the only person that speaks your language (literally and figuratively) is the one beside you, holding your hand and laughing just as hard as you. The only one who knows your “Oh my lord lets get out of here” look, things like that. I guess that’s probably relative all over the world. But somehow it just seems all the more-important, here in India. So Bryan – thanks for holding my hand and laughing with me, and knowing my “lets get out of here” face.
Other than the day to day adventures – there is also the most mundane of all – Work. *smile* It’s not been bad at all, fairly busy. This week has dragged by without a doubt, each day felt like a week itself. The family is well, my sister leaves for Canada for 6 weeks on Monday, and couldn’t be more thrilled if she tried. She’s spending the time on the prairies with my grandmother, and my mother keeps reiterating that it’s “Better to be bored in Canada than bored in India.” Which holds some small iota of logic.
That’s my small, and painfully useless update. I hope you’re all well – haven’t heard from a couple of you in a while.. *cough cough* So I’d appreciate an update. Hope you’re all well – of course I’m thinking of all of you. Take care of each other, talk to you soon.
Monday, June 13, 2005
Pale Yellow Papers
I’m filing all of this information about Nepal – the political upheavals going on, the Maoist insurgency, the clashes between the military and the rebels. And I have stacks, stacks, stacks.. Of these pale yellow papers from Amnesty International.
Each one is a record of somebody that has “been disappeared”. Each one is a brief biography of a person’s life, and the instances surrounding the fact that they have now “disappeared.” The last parts we know, the walking to the market, the coming home from school. The ‘no political ties’ and the ‘never voted’. Then the gone.
Apparently Nepal has the highest rate of “disappearances” in the entire world. An estimated 20000 people.
I’m supposed to throw them out. I can’t do it. They’re sitting on my desk.
I can’t throw them out.
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
Send in the Postman
So I’m sick. Sick with a distended third world belly. Oh, it may seem comical that I frequently wonder just how close I am to immaculate conception to get a belly like this.
But really, the thought of various amoebas throwing parties in the dim red light of my stomach, dancing away under the slightly intruding disco ball of my bellybutton, thrilled with all the room a missing intestine permits… Gosh.
I’ve tried to fight it. I’ve sent in the AntiBiotic BodyGuards, wielding white blood cells like nightsticks, but they’ve only succeeding in making the party a little less loud – wherein somebody yells “Damn you coppers!” and they kick up their heels and start doing the bumb and grind all over my lower intestine. (Made all the more important by the fact that it's the only one I have left.)
So instead I’m trying to live harmoniously with my resident friends, letting them sap me of energy, like it’s me that’s at the party, not just hosting it. It’s not working very well. I’m thinking that I’m going to have to throw in something a little tougher, perhaps the antibiotic equivalent of Bukowski, who will outlinger and outfester anything silly enough to hang around. I could live with that. Maybe.
Monday, May 30, 2005
A Forgotten Wonderful
An Unwitty Nitty Gritty Update
My heart, too, has been a little sore – my city was hurt last week. There were three bombings across Delhi, two at movie theatres and one at a railway, injuring 54 people and killing 1. We’re just now feeling our shoulders relax, although I still see my mothers eyes flicker when she knows we’ll be out late or alone. The purported reason for the bombings were the films that were being played at the movie theatres. The Sikh community was outraged at the Sikh hero in the film being chased by scantily clad women, and the fact that the title of the film was a Sikh term only to be used in the most pious of situations. Instead of boycotting the film, picketing, going to the film industry’s governing body – what do they do? They set two bombs, causing what they think to be a retaliatory third to be set on a railway.
The worst part? Immediately after the bombings, on the news, a spokesman for the Sikh community comes on, stating that “There is no way that this was anyone from the Sikh community. Our Guru’s teach us not to kill. This was not a Sikh.”. I really hate to be a naysayer… But has anybody heard about Partition? Where Sikh’s killed, and were killed, in the 5 million person massacre? Or the fact that they pride themselves on being a warrior caste?
They don’t know, but are still “investigating” who could have committed the bombings. But it was strange. It’s different when it is some other city, some other place. But it was my city, my place. Even if perhaps it was in a part of the city that I didn’t know, a name I didn’t know. But it wasn’t. It was a place I do know, a name I do know. Is this what happens as you travel? The world gets smaller, the problems closer?
Because it is getting smaller. There was news yesterday of an attack on a bus in Mandi, where my friend and I travelled not that long ago. A woman was the target of an acid attack by a man, severely injuring her and the 20 people surrounding her. I’ve been to the bus station they were talking about. We’ve taken the bus, or at least the route, that she was taking. I’ve been having nightmares about it.
On a lighter note, I got to experience the unbearable lightness of being a hostess on Thursday. Bryan was hosting a little get together of friends, colleagues, interesting people. So I got to play hostess and helped with the menu (pure Italian, lots of pasta and lasagne and ceasar salad and bruschetta) and the wine drinking. The best hostess gift that I think I’ve ever seen? Homemade cantaloupe sorbet for us and doggie biscuits for the puppies. How great is that? It was a wonderful time – everyone ate lots, complimented my cheesecake, left on time.. What more could you ask for? They were even good looking guests.
I was supposed to go away this past weekend, but my increasingly hostile stomach has been holding me back. So instead I spent the weekend at the pool, cooking good food, laughing, reading, shopping. It was just what the doctor ordered. My stomach hasn’t received that memo yet, but I’m sure it will.
I’ve got a reception tonight, and Political and Economic Affairs (which is me) is going on a retreat (which conjures up way too many images of Catholic school for me) tomorrow to discuss the upcoming and past year. Then onwards and upwards from there! Saturday is the farewell party for everyone moving on to other Embassies, other countries, and hopefully includes a lot more lounging in the sun. Other than that, the remaining 36 hours of my week is free.
I hope everyone is well – missing you all, of course. Have I really been here five months? Do I really have just three left? Part of me can’t wait to come back to Canada.. another part is seriously considering building a mud hut here. *smile* Take care everyone, and will talk to you soon.
7 Favorite Things. Because 10 is a Cliche.
Roald Dahl – Without even trying, he’s a prolific children’s writer. James and the Giant Peach, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Fantastic Mr. Fox – the list goes on and on. But, did you know that he’s also got an equally as huge repertoire of really naughty books and gruesome short stories? Neither did I… and now I can’t look at Willy Wonka and Veruca Salt in quite the same way.
Poetry – I’ve really never been a big fan, in any way, shape, or form. But I picked up a copy of Pablo Neruda’s “Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair” and had one of those big heart wrenching sighs that makes your toes exhale. He wrote “El Postino” (not the one with Kevin Costner..) which I have yet to see. So really, I guess one of my favourite things isn’t poetry. It never has been. But Pablo Neruda.. he’s not really poetry either.. he’s something else entirely.
Fall – Something I’m completely missing being in India is the turning of the seasons. Seasons change here, just not in the order or in the contrasting nature that I’m used to. All the leaves are currently falling off the trees…into the swimming pool where everyone is trying to escape the 50 degree heat. All of a sudden I’m craving apple cider and cold mountains and big sweaters and brown leather boots and cold air and squash soup. It’s gone from warm to hot to unbearable to.. I don’t know what this is. The closest approximation to Hades that I know exists on our mortal plain. So I’m missing all the things that are as close to polar opposite as I get. Because I don’t much like winter either. *smile*
The Color Green – That dark, not quite forest green that’s associated with riding clubs and members only jackets. I’m completely enamoured with this green carry-on at an unearthly fashionable leather shop – it screams ‘take me around the world with you’. In a British accent no less. Burnished brown and copper are close seconds – but green.. oh green..
Black Sesame Ice cream – Bryan and I went out for Sushi (it gets a capital.. it was that good) and while it was amazing, I have to say the ice cream really was the coup de grace. The color of black speckled wet concrete, with the subtle initial taste of praline and a little bit of milk, into a full bodied cold nutty sesame experience.. I can only hope you can find it somewhere nearby. It would be the perfect accompaniment to lychee martinis and sushi aperitifs. There. I’ve just planned a party for you.
Suntans – There is something inimitably sexy about tan lines. I don’t know what it is – perhaps the connotation of enough time to be idle in the sun (re: rich), or just the healthy glow that it imparts upon anyone and everyone. I spent 75% of my weekend drinking beer and baking in the sun and playing in the pool. It was wonderful. I remembered how I used to be able to spend hours and hours in the pool as a kid, but couldn’t recall exactly what I did. Watching all the young kids at the pool, jumping in and jumping out and splashing and swimming – perhaps youth is what a suntan suggests, the amazing ability to do nothing with all the grave importance of something. And that – that is sexy.
Sunglasses – I’ve figured out what I will hoard. Sunglasses. Big, ungainly, dark, Bardot-esque, Jackie O-ish.. Sunglasses. Those who know me will attest to my love of sun spectacles that cover half my face – there really is something lovely about anonymity and UVA protection all in one. I tried on a million pairs this last week with Bryan alternately laughing or grimacing, and discovered what I really was capable of pulling off. And they’re huge I tell you. Just wait and see. But I will – hoard that is. I know I’ll be fifty bequeathing ten pairs at a time to unsuspecting God-children.
Monday, May 16, 2005
Exactly What is the Menu?
Slow it Down!
I did get a plethora of beautiful gifts.. Multicoloured sapphire and silver earrings, a beautiful peridot and garnet bracelet from Bryan (no, really – Not only am I now sporting earrings, I’ve slipped so gracefully, into bracelets. I just know I’m going to end up one of those old ladies with a safe full of jewellery that I pull behind me on vacations to Africa) some music, some clothing.. And a bicycle!! The last time that I had a bicycle of my own, not just somebody else’s that I was doing maintenance on…I was about 12. This one is a stunning Indian/British style huge wheeled bike that makes me feel like I should have a basket on the front filled with French bread and wine and flowers and I should be wearing capris and enormous sunglasses. It’s so fantastic, I just about died.
We had a big birthday dinner, a huge roast chicken with stuffing and cranberry sauce and all of the appropriate “fixin’s”. Bryan came over, and we all ate and ate until we were pretty sure we were just going to fall asleep. It was absolutely perfect.
Rajasthan is a Colour
So, we pretty much decided to head in the opposite direction to Rajasthan, and I’m so thrilled that we did. There’s this huge fort/castle down there that’s been converted into a beautiful hotel, which I really think is an excellent way of generating money to keep up the maintenance. Each room is different, so you don’t really know what to expect. We got the beautiful “Neelam Mahal” – decorated in blue and white. It was so fantastic, everything in blue Rajasthani print and white marble – it was like living inside a slice of Wedgewood-cum-Indian pottery. There is a long infinity swimming pool on the side that looks out over the tiny village and the start of the Rajasthan desert, we sat out there and felt quite like we were in another world. It’s a positively amazing place to just wonder around and explore – Bryan was right in saying that it would be a great place for kids to run around and play hide and seek.
We pretty much did that one night – they light up the fort with tiny white lights at night, so you can climb up onto terraces and lookouts. We sat up there and drank our red wine that we snuck in. The wind was so nice and warm and the wine was so good – I couldn’t believe that I was sitting in an ancient fort in the desert watching the moon come up.. The sky out there is a beautiful navy, with the stars and the moon and the glow of the villages it ends up looking like an embroidered sari pulled over the sky.
What we were told by everyone who had been there (and many, in fact, who had not) that Neermrana (the fort) was the only thing there to see. We decided to go down to the little (and by little, I mean miniscule) town of Neemrana, the forts namesake. That’s where I took the photos of the kids. I have some more, which I’ll post later. They were so sweet. The first little boy that I took a picture of just thrilled me. I took the photo (with the digital) and then motioned him over so he could see. He just about had a baby heart attack. He kept examining himself, then looking intently into the camera at himself, then up at me with the most amazing look on his face, like he really couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Needless to say, he attracted a lot of other children. I’d take a picture of them, and they would all run over to the camera. One of the older kids would stand really close, and call each kid up one at a time by name to peer at them selves on the screen. They were amazed – it was really sweet. I forget the things I take for granted, like digital cameras, can be really interesting to others.
The gentleman who’s shop we were in front of (and the father of a couple of the kids) asked if I might send him some of the pictures. He got one of the kids to run to get somebody who could write out his address for him – turns out the young man that they brought back was a business student in Delhi. He took us to his silver jewellery shop (they were making everything right in front of us, him and his brother) where I fell in love with a pair of earrings and a bracelet. The bracelet is kind of a bangle made of wood, edged in silver, and the earrings are made of the same wood and tipped in silver. They cost me next to nothing, and I’ve already gotten a plethora of compliments about them. It was really sweet – Bryan understands my sudden problem that I’ve developed, this buying of jewellery thing. (Even people who have known me for years have rarely seen me with earrings.. now when I have shoppers guilt I wear them to bed.. ;-) So he just sits quietly while my heart rate rises and I spend laudable amounts of money. The young silversmith asked if we were newly married, because Bryan was so patient with his young wife, and oh how that would quickly change. We just about died. It’s easier to feign marriage here than get the sideways glances when you say you’re just friends. So we had a good laugh pretending to be married…and waiting for Bryan’s newlywed patience to wear thin.
Our new friend asked if we had seen the step well of Neemrana, (which we were planning on going to) and offered to take us. It’s the difference between big towns and these fantastic villages – everybody just wants to show you things, have you meet their family, show you their life and their town. They have little interest in your money or your possessions, just your stories and your friendship. It really is different.. so wonderfully different. So we started walking towards the step wells.
It wasn’t long before our young friend encountered a friend riding a camel with a camel cart behind. He wanted to catch up with his friend, and asked if we wouldn’t mind riding in the cart (a term used loosely for a wooden platform with wheels) to the step wells. What luck. A guide, and a camel cart ride, all in one! Needless to say, all the other villagers going by on camels were more than a little surprised to look back and see us sweltering in the sun.
There isn’t a pat way to describe step wells. Basically they were used for surprise military attacks. When you look across a flat field, you can’t see anything but some bricks that appear to be laid out like a basement. When you get closer.. it’s amazing. There is a stairwell that basically descends down about 500ft into the earth, down to a well at the bottom. The stairwell is about 20 ft wide, wide enough, I suppose, for military men to rush up and attack. It’s about the size of 3 Olympic swimming pools at the top, if you were looking down on it. When you’re near the bottom, looking up – it really is stunning. The setting sun coming in illuminates the sandstone, and it glows this warm, beautiful color. The shadows and the birds flying within lend to this completely cathedral like atmosphere, where you can imagine the women (it was built almost exclusively by women) walking down to draw up water, and ascending the hundreds up steps back into the heat of the desert. It really is quite cool at the bottom, a welcome relief from the completely arid desert above.
Traditional Rajasthani dress is full of shockingly bright colors. Being used to the dull, dingy, somewhat dirty style of Delhi, it was so pleasant to see the beautiful colors everywhere. You can pick out Rajasthani women in Delhi easily, just by their amazing saris. Some of the women on road crews (as an aside, there is an interesting division of labour – from what we saw and what I read, primarily women do all the farming, road work, building, and the men do a lot of the artistic work – jewellery, cloth making, sari sewing.) actually had fluorescent saris. They wear a great deal of silver and gold jewellery on the wrists, arms, ears, noses… Everywhere. (They better if their husbands are the jewellers.. ;-) To walk through the villages painted the beautiful greens and purples and blues that is so common in India, and see the phenomenal flashes of yellow and green and silver and gold.. It was like walking through a set of oil paints, so vivid and saturated were all the colors.
It really was a wonderful weekend. I would recommend it to anyone and everyone – not only the fort, but to walk down into the village and explore, meet all the amazingly kind people and walk (or ride, if you’re lucky!) to the step wells. I still can’t believe my luck at living in a place like this, where a two hour car ride takes you to another world. I don’t think I ever will.



















