Escaping the Bandh

Although I was really bummed that I wasn't able to go to Mysore and see the temples and palaces, after watching the news in Chennai on Monday, I was glad that I made the decision to come wait in Chennai. Protests started up Monday across India against the government's increase in petrol prices. Last time there was a strike (or "bandh" as it's called here), the trains weren't affected and it was just in some places. But this time it's trains, buses, taxis, and domestic flights in some places. The striking protesters in Delhi and Mumbai also turned violent, causing destruction in some areas of the city. While Chennai seemed to be operating normally yesterday and I'm not actually sure if the transport systems were on strike here, there was still protesting going on in the city probably about a half hour walk from where I'm staying. I'll be glad to escape all of this soon...

Yesterday I walked to a bookstore on the main road and spent a couple hours reading travel books. This wasn't my original intention, but once I walked in and realized that the monsoon was coming, I decided to wait it out there. The monsoon is so weird, because it just comes completely without warning. When I left my hotel and walked to the bookstore, it was sunny, hot, humid, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. When I was standing in the bookstore, I felt a drop of water on my head and looked up to see that the ceiling was dripping. It was then that I looked outside and saw the sheets of water coming down out of the sky. It's the most furious rain I've ever seen, with a desire to soak everything below it. During a break in the rain, I walked to a restaurant for lunch, and then began back towards my hotel. Unfortunately I was caught in the monsoon's next wave on my way back, and rather than taking a rickshaw or waiting out the storm like all the locals that disappeared off the streets, I decided to wade through the knee-high streams on the side of the street to get back to my hotel. When I got back, I don't think I'd ever been so soaked in my life. Luckily it was just water though, and everything pretty much dried overnight.

Today I've spent the morning packing and relaxing in my room, and just discovered an internet cafe next door to the hotel. I will head to the airport tonight at around 9 and then wait for my 1:45am flight to Frankfurt. Looking forward to a bit more relaxing before then in my room though, I suppose, since the rain seems to be starting up again.

I'm curious if anyone knows if there is a "second world"? I would assume that countries like the US, Canada, Germany, France, etc.. are the first world, and you always hear about the third world countries in Africa and southeast Asia, but where is the second world? Are there more than three?

Just curious.

If You Give A Surgeon Play-Doh....

Today at the hospital, we saw a total hip replacement. When putting the metal pieces back into the leg and hip, the surgeons used this cool stuff called bone cement, which resembles Play-Doh, both in its composition and in its ability to inspire creativity, apparently. A powder is added to a vial of liquid, which starts a chemical reaction to make a doughy substance. After the surgeon took what he needed for the bone, one of the surgical technicians gave the leftover bone cement to the two nurses who were assisting in the OR. I think that they must not use this stuff very often, because everybody got really excited and while they were waiting for the cement to harden in the bone, the surgeons and nurses started playing with the leftover bone cement. The nurses made a cross, the anesthesiologist made an airplane, and the surgical assistant carefully shaped his piece of bone cement into a penis, which greatly amused everyone. After a few minutes, all the
pieces got really hot and hardened, and the surgeons put down their new figures and went back to the hip surgery. It was fun to see them all relax and let their guard down, since they are usually so uptight and serious.

Jessica from England went home yesterday, and was replaced in the house by a French boy, Brice. Jess and I got here at about the same time, and I have many memories of us going shopping at the temple bazaar, traveling, watching Scrubs and Friends at night after we were stuck at home at curfew, and making fun of each others' accents (her speaking "the Queen's English" and me doing impressions of her saying "I just can't be bothered to go to bed so early!"). It was definitely a reminder that I'm running out of time with my host family and to see everything that I want to see in Madurai. On Friday, I will go with my host mother to an Indian wedding, which I'm really excited about. It will also be a great chance to show off the matching black with white and purple pinstripes pants and vest that I had made for $10.

Off to yoga now, which has gotten increasingly harder since my yoga teacher extends our meditation time each day and my ability to focus is diminishing as I near the end of my time here and as it seems to grow hotter each day.

At The Bottom of India

I think that there must be very few places in the world where you can walk out on a pier and watch the sunset over the ocean, and then come back the next morning to the same pier, turn around, and watch the sun rise over a "different" ocean. Kanniyakumari, the southernmost point in India, offered me this amazing experience this past weekend.

The Friday early morning public bus trip reminded me how glad I am that the western travel standard is so much higher than in India. I sat in the window seat of a row of two seats that I shared with two other people on the six and a half hour trip. It was great to have a seat though, because the bus was packed full of people and it was really hot outside. In addition to the sunburn that I got on my arm that was next to the open window, I also had bruises on both of my knees that were pressed up against the seat in front of me (I think the average height here is much shorter than I am tall). Also, it remains unclear to me just why exactly i kept finding that same arm next to the window wet every so often. I think I'll let that mystery remain unsolved. Despite the dismal trip though, our group of seven was all still excited to see the southernmost point in India.

After an overpriced lunch and having discovering an underpriced hotel, we went on a walk down the streets crowded with shops and Indian men trying to sell us little trinkets.

We reached the square just above the ocean and split up into groups of two to walk down through the crowds of people all getting a souvenir or trying to take a picture of the same geographical landmark that we were there for. Brittany from Canada and I walked under an ancient stone pavillion and down some steps that led right into the ocean. An old woman who was trying to sell us hair pins put down all her things to make sure that we made it down the steps safely, since they were surprisingly slimy with seaweed. We stood in what felt like a gateway to the ocean and listened to this woman, Gita, tell us in broken English about the tsunami in 2004. She pointed out to a statue on an island just maybe a quarter mile away that can best be described as a standing Indian version of the Statue of Liberty (I promise to post a picture of it eventually, since my description can't really do I justice). She was able to get across that the wave went really high up on
the statue and came roaring over the vendors in the marketplace, over the tourists, and into the city. I think she was also trying to show us a scar that she had on her arm from falling on the rocks as she tried to run from the wave. Even though her English was not great, it was still really amazing to look out over the calm ocean that lay before us with a woman who had seen and survived such devastation and try to imagine what it would have been like to stand paralyzed on the beach as the killer wave came at full speed toward the shore. The monument for those who died in the disaster nearby was small and we actually almost missed it as we walked by, but it certainly served as a reminder.

We walked back into town and detoured to see an old Portuguese cathedral. When we walked out, we must have taken a wrong turn somewhere that somehow led us onto a rocky pier that extended out into the ocean. From there, we watched the sun setting to our west, over the Arabian Sea. Kanniyakumari also happens to be the geographical meeting point for three bodies of water, the Arabian Sea to the west, Indian Ocean to the south, and the Bay of Bengal to the east. After a somewhat unsatisfying dinner of "french fries" and 7-Up, we watched Brazil and Portugal tie a World Cup match and then went to bed.

At 5 in the morning on Saturday, I woke up to the alarm that I had set the night before after a recommendation from both the Lonely Planet book and the hotel manager to see the sunrise. Not surprisingly, only Alison and Brittany woke up to join me on a walk in the dark back down to the same rocky pier that we had watched the sunset from the night before. As we sat on the rocks just above the crashing waves below and stared up at the sky that was just beginning to leak pink and gold streaks from the east, I couldn't help but feel like I was in the world's biggest IMAX theater, the roundness of the sky stretching from the shores of a far off distant island in the east over to the fishing boats heading west into nothingness. It was the most spectacular sunrise I have ever seen, and we stayed to watch for over an hour and a half until the sky was fully lit and we were to hungry and tired to stay any longer. After a dosa breakfast with some tea in the hotel
restaurant (which I think might be a redundant phrase here, since almost all restaurants have the prefix "hotel" for a reason that I don't totally understand), we woke everyone else up and packed up our things to go to Kovalam.

We were minorly detoured and panicked at the Kanniyakumari bus station when a taxi driver informed us that the ghost town appearance of the bus station was due to a bus driver strike that had just began that morning, and that public buses in and out of the area were not running. Somehow though, we managed to locate the train station and get there in 10 minutes, just in time to catch the only train of the day to Trivanduram, where we could take a reasonably priced rickshaw from to the southwest Indian beach destination, Kovalam. This last bit proved to be a bit more difficult than we had expected because the rickshaw drivers in Trivanduram were apparently also on strike, and therefore demanding higher fares. We reluctantly paid since Kovalam is really not accessible any other way, especially on such short notice.

The town of Kovalam is essentially built on a beach. There is one road behind some of the beachfront hotels that runs the length of the tiny tourist town. During our day and a half at Kovalam, I think that we saw more white people than te rest of the time i've been in India. It was funny because they/we just seem so out of place I can totally understand the desire to stare that many of the Indian people seem to have. We strolled down the beach, shopping for the best priced hotel. Thankfully we passed up the budget choice ($1.50 per person per night) for a big splurge ($3 each). As per usual, we found the hidden gem of a hotel down a narrow smelly path that led past a large dead rat. The hotel itself was great though, and had a pool that I even trusted enough to swim in. We picked the pool for swimming over the ocean simply for the cleaner, less staring at the girls by Indian men reasons. We spent the day mastering our haggling skills at the overpriced
beachfront shops and walking up to the base of the old lighthouse for a view of the great strip of beach beyond. After a nice dinner at a German/Indian/Chinese/American/Italian restaurant, we headed back to the hotel for a late night swim and just to hang out. The only downside of the night was when I cut the bottom of my foot on a piece of what was either glass or a clay pot. My bloody footprints followed me back to my room where I was able to disifect and clean and bandage my foot. Glad I had my tetanus booster and a million other shots!

This morning, Brittany and I went on a walk to find the Lonely Planet Ayurvedic massage recommendation, which we found to be deserted on a hill up a rocky driveway, apparently closed for the off-season. Brittany found some shops that she wanted to look at and I walked back towards the hotel. On my way, a man jumped out of a shop in front of me, advertising an authentic Ayurvedic massage. Somewhat skeptical, I went up and looked at the massage room, which was clean and simple, and found that it was a government approved massage shop, and for only about $7 an hour, it was a price that I don't think I will ever beat anywhere. The massage itself wasn't necessarily the best I've ever had, but after so much traveling and sitting on trains and buses and standing for long periods of time during my days at the hospital, it was a welcome treat to myself that my body was happy to have. The massage standard was a little different than in the US, which I realized as
soon as I was undressed by an attendant and laid down on the hard table, without the massage privacy towel. Afterwards, dripping with oil, I was shown into a steam box that was just big enough for me to sit in on a stool, crouched over. Then I was offered a shower, a process which was also done for me. I felt like something of a royal as I was soaped and scrubbed down and patted dry by the masseur and attendant. It was an interesting experience that I was glad to have had. After lunch, we checked out of our hotel and began the long journey back to Madurai.

After another expensive rickshaw ride, an 8 hour train trip on a packed train with beggars, smelly kids and toilets, and mystery fluids hitting the arm of whoever was sitting next to the window, we are finally back to Madurai and I am on my way to bed in anticipation of my last week in Madurai. I think that I've finally hit a wall in terms of traveling in India. It's been such an action-packed month, and as much as I'm glad to have had all these experiences, I'm really looking forward to the western travel standard and time to relax in Europe. I'm also looking forward to traveling on my own. Trying to make decisions with a group of nine this weekend and not being able to decide when to go to bed, where to eat, and when to wake up is getting old, although it has been great to have a group of people to talk to and travel with.

Bed now, hospital and shopping at the temple bazaar tomorrow...probably followed by ice cream :-)

Siddha, Suddha, and Dindigal

As my roommate of few words, the 25 year old German paramedic, Emanuel, said yesterday evening, "I don't know. Is today is worst day I've had in India or just weirdest?"

My feelings about the Ayurvedic clinic trip certainly would reflect the latter of Emanuel's options. You'd think that by this time I had learned my lesson: don't expect anything except for the unexpected.

Wednesday morning Emanuel and I grumblingly awoke from our beds following only four hours of sleep the night before after waiting up until almost one to let the other volunteers who had gone out to dinner back inside. At 5:30 we were picked up by the Projects Abroad car and taken on an adventure to Dindigul. We arrived an hour and a half later outside a beautiful, gated two-story house. It was the kind of house that in India would only belong to a very good doctor. The marble entryway led up the marble stairs into the living room, which was filled with beautiful idols and posters of Hindu gods, as well as large, framed pictures of the family that I presumed owned the house and the former president of India. After waiting only 45 minutes in the living room, (ugh... could have been sleeping...), a petite 40 year old Indian woman emerged from the family bedroom into the living room to greet us. The strikingly beautiful appearance of Dr. Meenal threw me off
guard a little, first because I thought that Dr. Meenal was a man, and second because in my opinion, she set the bar at a new height in terms of a colorful and cultural appearance of women that I have seen in India. Unlike other rich Indian women who tend to be housewives with a nice belly, Dr. Meenal was remarkably trim, likely from her on-the-go energy. She was wearing a bright yellow saree that flowed down to her ankles over a dark green top, and her gold earrings and necklace, and diamond nose stud all gave her the look of a much younger woman. She greeted us with a warm enthusiasm that would last the duration of our visit. Her 12 year old son (who looked like he could have been 8), Sudhasana (Sudha) greeted us after just having woken up, and husband followed soon after. After a quick tour of the home, which revealed an open terrace on top of the home and a guest house next door for us, in front of the family's herb garden, we headed for the
hospital.

We arrived at the Gandhigram Hospital and immediately went to the restaurant for an awesome welcome to Dindigul: boori and potato masala. We then had a tour of the artificial limb wing, the adoption center, and the geriatric homes. Some interesting things that I learned on the tour: having a child outside of wedlock is illegal, as is homosexuality, and all pregnant women and their husbands must undergo mandatory HIV testing and education counseling (although it was unclear if this is universal or just at this hospital). After our tour, we followed Dr. M to a nearby workshop hosted by the hospital on "Sanitary Napkin Technology", where she gave a presentation on the female reproductive system. Unfortunately, the keynote speaker, as well as all of the presenters including Dr. M spoke in Tamil for the entire 2.5 hours, so Emanuel and I sat and stared at our hands.

Afterward, we got a drink of some natural energy booster syrup (nanaya root maybe?) and walked across the highway where we caught the bus back into town (the hospital is 12 km from Dindigul). Upon arriving, we met the husband for lunch and a little tour of the downtown. As we walked into the flower market, which was an upstairs open-air market full of people quickly and delicately sewing flowers into long garlands, the sky burst open and I witnessed my first monsoon. Water jetted down from the sky with such force and volume that In less than five minutes streams were flowing down the sides of the streets and not a person remained on the sidewalks that had only minutes before held hundreds. We waited out the storm in the market, walking through and smelling all the flowers and taking pictures. As the storm began to clear, we walked outside and husband took Emanuel on his motorcycle to the clinic while I began to walk with Dr. M through the streets that
now had small lakes in each giant pothole. A couple minutes later, husband on motorcycle came around the corner and gestured for me to get on. Despite all of my better judgement and hearing my mom's voice from when I was little in my head telling me never to go on a motorcycle and always to wear a helmet on bikes, I jumped on the back with no helmet and held on tight as we whipped around street corners, between buses, and ridiculously close to street-crossing pedestrians. I arrived without a scratch moments later outside a staircase that led up to Dr. M's private clinic for Siddha medicine.

Siddha is a practice of ancient medicine similar to Ayurveda, focusing on keeping the various components of the body is equilibrium, with some help from herbal medicines and other natural treatments. One Siddha claim to fame from an excerpt that I read earlier in a packet from Dr. M said that the Siddhais were the first to recommend use of cannabis for medicinal purposes, specifically as a painkiller.

We started off the afternoon seeing patients that came into the office for various reasons, many for help with conceiving. One case in particular threw Dr. M into a frenzy as she scolded a young wife who had undergone numerous fertility treatments and exams after being unable to conceive. She explained to us afterwards that the husband had never had a semenalysis done, assuming in that the problem must be with the woman. "Only in India" Dr. M said, referring to the male-dominated society as a woman who was a clear example of what she thought women could and should accomplish.

At 3:30, the doctor handed us books on yoga, medicinal herbs, and siddha practice and left the room. After we had spent over an hour paging through the books absentmindedly as the hours of sleep that we had missed started to catch up with us, a man who looked about 20 but who was actually 30 showed up and sat with us, making casual conversation about yoga and meditation. Casual conversation turned into six hundred questions about ourselves and everything in our lives, and then he kept asking us if we liked him or if we had "any doubts", which is Indian English for "any questions". We waited with him for the doctor in awkward silence that was periodically interrupted by other questions from yoga man, like "what does your father do?", "how do you like the climate?", "how many brothers do you have?", and various other questions that I seem to answer whenever having a conversation with a new Indian person. Yoga man informed us after another half hour of
waiting that the doctor had gone to "take rest" in the room next door, which after a long day and little sleep, we were really envious of. He decided to start giving us a lesson about yoga, beginning by telling us the basic history and various types. This would normally have been okay except that yoga man decided to quiz us on what he had just said everytime that he said a long list of six-syllable Sanskrit words. He was not entirly thrilled that we couldn't remember everything that he had just said, and it took some serious convincing to tell him that we were interested and not bored. Apparently convinced, he decided to move us on to the practical lesson. In our pants and collared shirts, we practiced the various asanas that he gave us to do. Yoga man was not very forgivig though when we forgot the next pose or opened our eyes, and he frequently snapped at us in a style that would have been much more expected coming from a ballet teacher and not a yoga
instructor. Yoga man was especially unimpressed when we refused to try putting our feet behind our heads (although I think I got extra points with him for somehow managing to get into the lotus position even though it didn't last long). In our defense though, I think that the outside temperature was about 105 degrees and all we had was a ceiling fan inside. After we had finished, yoga man told us that we had done "very perfect yoga", although I secretly think that he just didn't know the English word "pathetic". The best part about yoga man though was that he was also a trained masseur, and after we had finished yoga he decided that he would teach us some massage, and that I would be the first one on the table.

Now when I say table, I mean hard metal bed frame. A table probably would have seemed soft compared to the frame. Although I was excited for the massage, I have to admit that I was a little shocked and completely caught off guard when he poured baby oil on his hands and reached for my face as I laid down on the bed frame. All that I could think about was the way that Indian people are so careful to only ever touch others with their right hand, what the left had represents, and the fact that at that moment both hands were squeezing my face with oil that i'm sure my skin was not totally thrilled about. When he began karate chopping a pinching my face, something that I don't think any professional has ever done before, I actually started laughing along with Emanuel who was really struggling to keep a straight face everytime I grimaced as yoga man's hands descended back down to my face. Despite being oily, sweaty, and sore afterwards, the chest and back
massages were actually fine though.

At around 9, Dr. M finished seeing patients and doing odds and ends around the clinic, and we headed to dinner with husband, Sudha, and yoga man. Other than the fact that our dosas were shaped like volcanoes, that was the end of the excitement for the night. Upon arriving home, Emanuel and I were only too happy to retire to the guest house and fall asleep.

This morning at around 5:30, I awoke suddenly to what I was sure must have been a really loud radio alarm clock. I soon realized though that the deafening Indian techno was coming from the temple next door, as the village began day two of their three day celebration of the god of the village. After trying to sleep for another couple hours, Sudha and husband came to ou room and told us that we should get up and accompany them to the temple. We did so, and walked next door to the village "temple", which was a small, closet sized room where a beautiful gold colored Indian god statue was beind adorned with garland upon garland of beautiful flowers, and people from the village brought food to sacrifice and have blessed. As new visitors to the temple, Emanuel and I were greeted by two older men and presented with huge flower garlands as well that rivaled Hawaiian leis in size and beauty. After watching the coconuts and bananas be blessed and receiving white
and red powder for our foreheads, we left with the family and their servants who had joined us at that time as well.

We went back to the home and had a quick breakfast of idly before going outside to meet the auto rickshaw. The privately hired rickshaw took us to a huge temple where we saw some of the most beautiful stone and gold figures of many gods. Husband (whose name I was never sure of but I think it started with Maha), took us on a tour around the temple showing all the amazing architecture and carvings.

After the temple visit, we got back in the rickshaw and headed out into rural farmland outside of the Dindigal area Until this point, we actually had not had any idea what the husband did for a living, and after he had stayed around Dr. M's clinic the day before, we had come to assume that he was a househusband who also had an interest in Siddha and herbs. As we arrived in a tiny village in a grove of palm trees though, Sudha announced that this was their village. A little confused, I asked for clarification, since surely they lived in Dindigal at the home where we had just stayed. Maha informed us that the village literally belonged to him, and the people there tended to and worked on his farm. It was then that we walked behind a home and came upon the farm. We had a small tour of the land, and saw the giant well that they use for water, as well as many of the herbal plants that are grown on the farm for use in Siddha medicine. It turns out that the
family actually grows many of the herbs that Dr. M prescribes to patients, and it is Maha's job to overee the farm and the village. We had green coconut water and bananas, both of which are also grown on the farm. It was nice to be out of the city, and for the first time in awhile, it felt good to breathe the air around me since it wasn't just car fumes. The hills surrounding the village covered by palm trees were beautiful and it was all really relaxing. The only downside to the farm was the insects. I normally don't have an issue with insects, and have gotten especially used to mosquitoes and ants and everything while being in India, but being in rural India on a farm feels a little different. I imagine that it's probably because during my appointment with the travel doctor before I came to India, I decided against a $500 shot for Japanese Encephalitis and the expensive malaria pills that give night terrors, and the doctor told me that they were most
necessary I'd I was going to be spending time in rural areas. A few hours really doesn't seem like too much when I think about it, but when I found red ants stinging my feet through my sandals and mosquitoes swarming me next to the cows, it made me a little paranoid just the same. Side note: I think this will be the first time that I will have the option of checking the "been on a farm" box on the U.S. Customs form when I come home (although I probably shouldn't if I don't want to spend quality time with the customs officers...).

After seeing the farm, we went back to the home, had some curd rice and pickled mango, sambahr and rice, egg dish, lemon juice, and mango. Then we went to the clinic to say goodbye to Dr. M and were picked up by the Projects Abroad car to head back home.

It was a good trip to see and learn a bit about Siddha medicine and it was wonderful to meet the family and have a go at hatha yoga, even if it was in khaki pants and a dress shirt in a 105 degree room.

Tomorrow I will go with Jess, Emanuel, Alan, and Allison to Kanyakumari, the southernmost point in India. From there, we will travel to Kovalam, famous for its beaches and, according to my host mother, its massage as well.

Hard to believe that I only have two weekends left in India! Next Friday I will leave Madurai and go to Bangalore and Mysore for a few days, before heading to Chennai on the following Monday and leaving for Frankfurt late Tuesday night.

Yoga and Green Coconuts

So I figured that since I'm essentially in the birthplace of yoga, I
might as well try to find a place to try it out. Having done only
maybe a half dozen drop-in yoga sessions in the US, I walked through
the slums of Madurai to the yoga studio that my host mother had set me
up with imagining a room full of sweaty Indians all bent like pretzels
laughing at me as I tried to touch my toes. When I showed up at the
empty studio, I found that I should have expected what has come to be
the norm in India, which is always finding something different than I
am expecting.

After unsuccessfully trying to communicate my purpose for being there
to the people at the counter, waiting twenty minutes and finally being
handed a phone with someone to translate what I wad looking for to the
people at the studio, I was greeted by my own private instructor, who
spoke English, and led upstairs to a private room that resembled a
storage closet. Here, he explained to me that over the next two weeks,
we will be doing three types of yoga. With my memory, just remembering
them in English is going to be a task, with no hope for their Tamil
names. We will focus for a few days each on the mind, the body, and
the spirit. Today, we began with the mind, which involved learning a
bit about and trying out meditation. Fortunately, no flexibility tests
were involved, nor was anything physical for that matter. The whole
experience was really interesting and great after I embraced having no
idea what I was doing, and I can't wait for my next session tomorrow.
It was also nice to do my own thing for a bit, since I've been feeling
a bit burnt out on large groups of people. I think that this time to
myself every day will help keep me sane and also allow me I enjoy the
next two weeks more fully.

I also picked up my newest pair of custom made shorts from the tailor
today, which cost me a whopping $3. I wish I hadn't liked the first
pair of capris that he did for me so much, because all this shopping
that I'm doing with him is going to force me to buy a small duffel to
take back with me. Oh well... I'll just have to suffer through the
matching formal pants and vest that I'm picking up on Thursday and
maybe a shirt or two before I get to that point...

Also, since I told myself that I would try lots of new things here, I went to a green coconut man on the side of the road today with the 37 year old British woman named Rachel who is now living with us. Although I will admit that I'm not the biggest fan of green coconuts, it was a cool experience to eat one. The man selected a coconut and then took a machete to the top of it while holding the coconut in his hand, creating a hole just big enough to put a large straw through. While we drank our green coconut juice, which didn't taste at all like white coconut, nor like anything I can really describe, the man did the same thing for other customers who would stop by on their bikes and in their cars. After we had sipped out all the juice (which was a lot since they were volleyball sized coconuts), we returned the coconut to the man and he again took up his huge knife, this time whacking the coconut in half and carving out the fruit, which had a melon-like consistency. Again, this tasted nothing like coconut that I have ever had, and was very filling actually. It was so filling, in fact, that upon returning home, I only had 1.5 plates of rice and curried potatoes and sauce, compared to the three or so that I've gotten used to eating. Whoever said that everyone loses weight in India can eat their words. I think it must be the lack of protein in the food, but I feel like whenever I'm served food, I could just go on eating. I think that the other problem is that I really like Indian food (I'm even okay with idly, which is the least favorite meal of other westerners that I've met in India so far).

Tomorrow at 5:30am, Emanuel and I are getting picked up to go to the Ayurvedic clinci and hospital, where we will shadow the head doctor for two days and stay with his family. It should hopefully be an interesting experience, although I can't say that leaving at 5:30 was something that I wad thrilled about. Oh well, I can sleep when I get home, right??

Houseboating and the Indian Restaurant Game in Kollam

This weekend I went on my first Projects Abroad sponsored trip. This
meant that our train, bus, hotel, touring, and restaurant
accomodations were all organized for us, leaving me with only a
balance to pay for the weekend and a fun experience with a bunch of
new people to friend on Facebook.

There were ups and downs to traveling with the group. Having private
transportation that took care of our permissions to enter the state of
Kerala and got us through the mountains in one piece was awesome.
These two days were the longest that I've gone without trying to
figure out directions to an obscure place that I didn't know how to
pronounce and trying not to get ripped off by a rickshaw driver, and
that part was great. However, the fact that I never really had any say
as to when and where we were going was frustrating. Also, trying to
get 40 people in sync to do anything or go anywhere is just
impossible. Bathroom breaks on the drive take 20+ minutes and then
more once people discover the shops nearby. I personally am a fan of
the "hold it until it hurts / until we get there" philosophy, and on
any drive less than six hours by myself, I tend to get in the car at
home and get out at my destination. Having so many new people around
though gave me a chance to connect with other volunteers placed in and
around Madurai and to hear about other types of placements that people
were doing.

So Friday morning, 30 or so of us met at the Madurai Junction train
station at around 10:30. Victor, a runny, short, balding man from
Projects Abroad was waiting with all of our tickets and directions for
the day. We boarded the four hour train in 2nd class, the lowest class
on Indian trains. For our purposes, it was fine and extremely cost
efficient (25 rupees, or just over 50 cents for four hours on the
train). I sat on one cushioned bench with a very straight, stiff wall
behind it with four people, facing another bench of four people, our
knees very close together. I met some fun new people and a group of 9
of us (five guys, four girls) decided that we would share two double
rooms between us all in order to save money (the rooms are recommended
for three people at most). We all got off the bus at Sengotti, a
little train stop, and boarded two large vans for a four hour drive to
Kollam in the Indian state of Kerala on the west coast. The vans
actually resembled something that I would expect to take on a safari,
which is cool to take a picture of, but we were packed inside like
sardines.

The van/safari bus ride was actually very nice though, driving through
the beautiful countryside past many farms and hills. The temperature
was much more tolerable than the east Indian coast, at around 80
degrees with a nice breeze. Although I had always been warned about
taking any type of transportation through the mountains in India, it
actually wasn't as bad as I expected. Yes, we went around hairpin
turns way too fast in an area where only one car going either
direction could go around the turn at a time, and yes we were driving
on the edge of a cliff with no guardrail, and maybe I've just become
so desensitized to Indian driving or maybe it was because I was in a
backwards facing seat, but I wasn't really too worried the whole trip.
I tried (fairly unsuccessfully) to fall asleep, and stared out the
window a bit, and the four hour trip passed pretty quickly.

Upon arriving at the hotel in Kollam, we quickly realized that three
was about the most that we were going to fit in a room, so we divided
up our original group of five, set our things down and went to dinner.
Our restaurant was another great collaboration of ethnic cuisine. I
chose North Indian over Italian, Chinese, and American food, and was
happy with my eggplant dish that I couldn't pronounce, parotha, and
side of fries. We decided to walk back to the hotel afterwards, since
it was only a fifteen minute walk and we had already been on the van/
bus all day. Upon arriving back at the air conditioned hotel, which
was awesome except the price, we settled in for some World Cup
excitement for the England-Algeria game. It was cool because there
were three people from the UK and a girl from Algeria watching with
us, making it feel like a truly international experience. Somehow I
ended up choosing the roommates who liked to have the crowd where they
lived, so going to bed that night before 2 was out of the question.

Saturday morning, we attempted to have a relaxed breakfast in the
hotel restaurant. One thing about Indian restaurants that I thought at
first was strange but soon realized is very common is bad, poorly
timed service. I don't think I've eaten a meal out where everyone got
to eat at the same time. They tend to bring things in a random order,
one meal, then somebody's dessert, then someone else's meal, then
someone's drink, then another meal ten minutes later, and so on. It's
kind of strange but we all learned quickly to abandon the custom of
waiting for everyone to be served to start eating. Also, most Indian
restaurants won't have everything on the menu available, so you should
have at least three choices ready. That morning, there was no
porridge, only fried eggs, only pineapple juice, and no potatoes
available, which is a pretty significant amount of things for a menu
only twice that long. After determining what extra things they had
charged to our bill or what they had changed the price on from the
listed menu price, we paid and headed out to the house boat that would
be our vessel for the day.

There were two houseboats for our group that now numbered around 40,
both with a covered deck and couches and padded seats, two bedrooms
and bathrooms, and a small galley in the stern. From 10-5, we cruised
the backwaters of Kerala, passing by city, landfills, and eventually
emerging into the jungle. The morning was really relaxed, and people
laid around, read books, chatted quietly. We stopped at a murky bank
on the side or the river and were served lunch (rice, sambahr, curried
okra, beets, and fried bananas and tea for dessert). Some people
jumped of the side of the boat for a swim, but I ventured with a few
people out through the jungle area into a village in the hills. We
came across a group of kids who knew only enough English to inform us
that they loved pens, and we happened to be carrying a few 10 cent
pens that we happily handed over to their enjoyment. We hiked up a
little bit and found a stunning view, overlooking the jungle back down
to the river, and across miles of jungle and river switchbacks to the
mountains on the other side. We were taking pictures in front of the
stunning backdrop, a process that always takes awhile with five people
who all want the picture on their camera, when we realized that we had
been followed by the pen kids. They had just watched us take the
typical "funny picture" that always follows a series of serious ones.
For our funny picture, we decided to do the one where everyone jumps
into the air and we look like we're flying. The kids thought that this
was the greatest thing ever, and next thing we knew we were trying to
coordinate a group of 8 or so of them to do their own jumping
pictures. We encountered an unexpected difficulty with this though,
which we realized after we said "one...two...three!" and took the
first picture and nobody jumped. (Duhhh, these kids don't speak
English). We used our best sign language to communicate it to them,
and eventually got them all in sync, more or less. After some great
pictures with the kids, we headed back down the hill to the boat and
set off back in the direction we came from.

The trip back was significantly more lively than the trip there, with
the fried bananas, beer, chai, and coffee brought out and the totally
out of place Backstreet Boys blaring from the boat's speakers across
the water and into the jungle around us. Once we emerged on the lake
opposite our hotel, the boat was in full-on social mode, with everyone
getting to know some of the new volunteers around us and enjoying the
beautiful day and the breeze as we cruised back to our hotel.

After a few hours, which were intended to be for rest but which we
used to check out the town of Kollam, we all met up for dinner and
went to a nice restaurant on Projects Abroad's tab. A girl in the
group had a birthday, and so the restaurant made a cake. Whether the
cake was made that day or in the last week for that matter was
questionable though, because it actually had a taste and texture that
quite resembled cardboard and I can honestly say that it was probably
the worst, most flavorless cake that I've ever had. Despite the cake
though, it was one of the better dinners I've had in awhile because I
decided to sit with a totally new group of people. I met a 50 year old
woman from England who is working in an orphanage, a woman from Denver
who is working on a farm in preparation for her study to become a
horticulturist, and another woman who just graduated from college in
British Columbia and is preparing for medical studies. It was really
refreshing to talk to new people and get other perspectives and hear
new stories. The woman from Germany described her experience really
well when she recounted the description of India that she had given to
a friend: "it's hot, sticky, dirty, and the most beautiful place all
at the same time". And it really is true. This place is full of the
diamonds in the rough, with beautiful temples hiding beyond a field
full of trash and reeking of urine, the rocky shores of the Bay of
Bengal behind old Indian women begging for money, and amazing juice
squeezed out of moldy-looking stalks of sugar cane by old men with
shriveled hands on the side of the road. I see people wearing more
color on a daily basis than I ever do at home. The mystery of the
jungle and the children in the villages beyond it can be found only by
walking through a reddish mud, swatting past a million mosquitoes on
your way. The horrible smells and wall of humidity that I walked
through when I arrived in the Chennai airport 16 days ago were the
gateway into a place that can only be appreciated by seeing, smelling,
hearing, and tasting all that it has to offer at the same time. The
mountains and hills are an incredibly beautiful contrast to the
landfill of trash on the side of the river in front of them. The
magnitude of everything in India is just impossible to explain, but so
neat to experience.

Back at the hotel, my roommates and the girls would hear no talk of
going to bed early, even though we had all decided to accompany Victor
the next morning at 6 am to the beach for the sunrise. After only four
hours of sleep, it was really kind of like a great payback when I got
to shake them awake, refusing to let them sleep even though I
desperately wanted to myself. The sunrise was kind of anticlimactic,
as we were standing with our backs to the ocean trying to find the sun
in the east through the thick clouds and dense smog. We went back to
the hotel for a nap and time for another frustrating breakfast before
departing at 11. I felt a little bad for the waiter, who I ambushed
many times in trying to place my order. It's kind of this way most
places that I've been, where the waiter takes their time to take your
order (over an hour some places I've been), brings all the meals out
separately, doesn't come back to check if you need anything, which you
usually do because they've forgotten to bring drinks or you didn't get
what you ordered...etc. Then getting the bill once you ask for it can
still take up to an additional 20 minutes, and getting change will
happen only if you remind them multiple times. Not in the mood to play
the Indian restaurant game, I got up so many times to find the waiter
that the only time he actually came to the table was to bring out my
food.

Our return trip felt even longer than the trip we had made to get
there only two days prior. I sat in one of the back-facing seats,
contributing to nausea all the way through the mountains. Much to my
dismay, we stopped three times in those four hours, two bathroom
breaks and one snack break (ughhhh). The train was the same layout,
but for some reason was packed twice as full as the first train trip
there. We got on early so that we had seats, which proved to be a
mixed blessing since standing up to stretch my legs that were pulled
up against my knees would have meant that I would lose my seat to one
of the six or seven sweaty Indian men that were standing where my legs
were supposed be. The aisles were packed, and with the open door
trains, it was a wonder to me that nobody got pushed out. Needless to
say, I was ecstatic to get off the train and so excited to get home
that I didn't bother to do too much negotiating for our rickshaw ride
home (probably overpaying by some obscene amount like 50 cents or
something).

So all in all, it was a fast, fun, and exhausting weekend. I am
starting to go a little crazy becuase I really haven't had time to
myself or a place for myself, luxuries that I miss dearly from home,
for a couple weeks now. I think that it really got to me when there
were ten people sitting on my bed last night, spilling their drinks on
my already questionable single sheet that I was sharing with another
guy from England, and trying to talk to each other over the music
blaring from the speakers next to the bed (turning on music full
volume and then trying to have a converstation and shouting to be
heard over it is something that I just don't get). Tonight, thank
goodness for my own bed, even though Emanuel and I have decided to
replace our A/C with mosquito nets to save money. It's weird to say
this in a country around the world that I've only been in for two
weeks, but it sure feels good to be home.

Leprosy and Critters in the Night

Driving to the leprosy hospital, I was in a car that had seatbelts!
Maybe I forgot to mention this but I have so far found that seatbelts
don't really exist in India. Obviously it should come as no surprise
that when I reached back to put it on, it seemed to be rusted in
place. At least this saved me the embarrassment of being the only fool
wearing one in the car.

The two day trip also continued my streak of meeting really great,
interesting people around my age. I travelled to Manamadurai to the
Leprosy Mission Hospital with a nursing student from Chicago, Laura,
and a pre-med student from Utah, Jenna. Just the hour and a half car
trip alone was enough for me to realize that they were really relaxed
and interesting. Little did I know about the experiences we were about
to have together.

We arrived at the hospital campus, which was in a very rural area just
outside of the town Manamadurai (not to be confused with Madurai) and were taken to the guest house. It is a really
cute little place with a living room and two bedrooms and a kitchen.
We also met a fourth volunteer, Sam(antha) who was just staying for
the day before heading back to Madurai to fly home to Indiana. After a
dosa breakfast, prepared for us by the house attendant,
"William" (which I'm sure is his traditional Indian name...not), we
were taken to the hospital for a day or touring and learning about
leprosy and the treatmen for the disease.

The Leprosy Mission Hospital here in Dayapuram, Manamadurai, Tamilnadu
is over 130 years old. For the majority of its history, the hospital
was funded by the Indian government due to the need for leprosy
treatment facilities. As the disease's prevalence in the country
slowly decreased, the government withdrew funding and the hospital
opened up to general patients in the community. It now sees many out-
patients each day, and while only 10-15% of new cases seen are for
leprosy, the hospital is still well known for their specialized care
with the infection. We were given the history of the hospital and of
leprosy, shown the pharmacy, spoke to the counselor, and saw all of
the facilities. We were also introduced to about 15 patients currently
staying at the hospital being treated for leprosy and told their
stories by the nurses. Even today in a time when it is so treatable
when detected early, people still had stories of being rejected by
their families, losing their jobs, and becoming outcasts in their
communities to some extent. The Mission believes that a huge piece of
this is a lack of education about leprosy, and they regularly see the
families of patients and try to explain it to them.

We learned that a huge part of leprosy is very detailed, specific self-
care that must be instilled in the patients while they are here so
that they can go home and care for themselves. This includes daily
self examinations and extensive cleanings, as well as specific
exercises depending on where the leprosy is affecting them. For some
patients that we saw, the necessity of this self-care is not valued
above other things in their lives that require attention, whether it
be work, family, etc. As a result of this, we saw a few patients whose
various limbs had been amputated, and many with deformities and
lesions on parts of their bodies. It was fascinating and heart-
touching to get to interact with them. For some, you can tell that
just having a place where they aren't singled out by it and where they
can share common experiences and feelings and participate in group
therapy sessions has really changed their lives and made it possible
for them to see hope in the future.

One of the greatest things about the hospital is that they bill
patients on a sliding scale depending on what they can pay for, which
for many patients who have lost their jobs and still must provide for
their families, is very little. Many patients receive corrective
surgeries, hospital stays, medication, and self-care education
completely free of charge.

After our day was over, Sam headed out and the rest of us were
exploring around the campus, and were about to head back to the guest
house when one of the patients, an old woman named Mary, wandered out
to us. Mary was treated for leprosy over 40 years ago, and although
her disfigured fingers and the depression on her nose that are so
characteristic of leprosy are clear reminders of her infection, she is
more or less not in need of any medical care. Mary stays on at the
hospital as a sort of peer-counselor for other patients there and has
made the hospital and the people there her life. When she came out to
talk to us, the language barrier with her speaking no English and us
speaking no Tamil made it so that it took us a few minutes just to
understand what she wanted from us. Before we went inside, we also had
no idea who she was. We finally realized that she wanted us to follow
her back inside, and although we no longer had a nurse escort or any
idea where we were going, we walked with the tiny old woman back to
the female leper ward. When we arrived, Mary insisted on showing us
her collection of photos that she had taken with other hospital
visitors that had visited the hospital. She also showed us a poster
with a picture of her, recognizing her donation of her life savings,
about $1000, to the hospital, and detailing that she wished to be
buried on the campus and have her wedding jewelery, which is highly
prized in a sacred way by Indian women, sold and the proceeds given to
the hospital as well. By this time, Laura had gone to find the nurse
to translate for us so that we could talk with her and the other
patients on the beds surrounding us, laughing at our attempts to use
sign language to bridge the barrier. We stayed and talked for about
half an hour before taking the obligatory picture with Mary, giving
her a hug, and heading back to the house.

Lookig back, I realize that this was a really amazing and important
experience for me to have had. When I left to go to visit the
hospital, I never imagined that I would end my day by hugging a leper.
My lack of education on the disease and its transmission and treatment
was so extreme that I once again felt like the ignorant westerner,
taking my health for granted and being completely unaware of the
problems of the rest of the world.

Laura, Jenna, and I debriefed our amazing experience with an hour-long
walk along the side of the road towards the town. We passed many
school children along the way, making their way home for dinner. I
think that for many of them, this was either the first or one of very
few times that they had ever seen white/western people like us. We all
waved like crazy to all of them. The little kids on the bus laughed
and screamed, the girls in uniforms with their hair in bows giggled
and smiled and turned away, and even the parents nodded their heads in
acknowledgement of our presence. It's kind of cool to feel like a
celebrity wherever we go, even if it is just our skin color.

We returned to the guest house for dinner, again courtesy of William.
As he made poori and masala, he sang and mumbled words to the songs
from "the Sound of Music", whistling the tune to parts of the song
that he didn't know through his many missing teeth. He had a giggle
that sent the three of us into a fit of laughter everytime he left the
room, and his food made us so happy that it was a great meal.

William left at around 8, and the three of us sat down in the living
room to hang out for a few hours and talk before bed. Suddenly, Laura
sits straight up and looks towards the bedrooms. I glance over just
quick enough to see a little, wiry tail disappear into my room. We all
ran into the room and see the little lizard dart into the bathroom,
behind the pedestal sink. While Jenna and I stand on the bed watching,
Laura hits the sink, trying to draw out the little guy. As a much
bigger, black one emerges and scurries behind the toilet, Jenna
screams and Laura jumps up to join us on the bed. We soon realize that
the bathroom is home to an infestation of lizards, and after the third
emerges, we quickly shut the door and stuff towels under it to keep
them from entering my room. Later on, as we retreated into the kitchen
to get water, we discover cockroaches in the sink. Sitting on the bed
talking, we are interrupted every few minutes by somebody squishing a
tiny bug or mosquito. The hourly 5 minute power cuts are enough to
keep the three of us on edge, talking and joking and all the while
wondering how we will sleep with all the critters around us. Once I
finally decide that I have calmed down enough to sleep after realizing
all the creature problems in the once cute house, I head into my room
to try and figure out the broken air conditioner. As I draw back the
curtain of my window, I come face to face with a rat, which proceeds
to run up the inside of the window bars. After informing Jenna and
Laura, and finding an empty rats nest in their windows as well, and
staying up awhile longer, I retreat back to my room to try and occupy
myself for long enough that it either becomes morning or I fall asleep
with the lights on or stop caring about the rats/lizards/bugs/ants/
grasshoppers and whatever else I happen to be sharing my room (and
potentially my bed) with.

I think I fell asleep around 2:30 after deciding to try turning the
lights off. A short three hours later at 5:45, I awoke suddenly out of
a dream. My thoughts went first to the rats and the stories that we
had been told by the nurses about rats chewing off fingers of leprosy
patients. However, I soon realized that I had awoken to a loud and
heavy pounding on the front door, accompanied by a little Indian man
with a high-pitched voice, yelling loudly. Somehow, when William left
after dinner the night before, the three of us has misunderstood his
English and thought that he was coming at 7:15 to make breakfast.
Apparently he meant 5:45. Other than my sleepy stumble to unlock the
front door, I thankfully slept uneventfully, and awoke with all my
limbs intact.

Day 2 at the hospital was really relaxing, and even though we were
still shuffled around the campus, there was little new information
that hadn't already been given to us and we were able to observe a
little more. After a brief morning chapel service, we watched physical
therapy sessions with the leprosy patients, wandered around the ward,
and during our session in the reception area, we were totally at a
loss for what else to do or ask, so we started learning phrases in
Tamil. William was pleasantly surprised when we came back to lunch and
afterward said to him, "idhu naala irriku", informing him that we were
quite pleased with the food.

Before heading out, we stopped by the women's leprosy ward to say
goodbye to our new friends. After many pictures and promises to send
cards, we met our taxi and headed out.

Returning home, I sat in the front seat with the driver. This is a
mistake that I will never make again. I am convinced that Indian
drivers all have a death wish and drive with their hands on the horn
more than the edge of the steering wheel itself. Crazy.

After traveling to Chennai and Pondicherry, and then to the leprosy
hospital, it will be nice to have some time back here to relax.
Tonight, my host mother let me into the kitchen to help her with
dinner. Together, we made chappathi and masala, and it was SOOOOO
good. I made her tell me the recipe as she went and then I checked it
with her after we were finished to make sure that I had a recipe I
would be able to replicate. Like all great cooks though, many
ingredients that she added were not nearly precisely measured, and
that bit will be up to me to experiment with while I'm here. I am also
insisting that she teach me how to make poori (boori?), dosa, chutney,
and everything else that I eat here and like.

Off to get caught up on the World Cup!

Capris and Indian Coffee

Although the bus ride was sleepless and unpleasant, it is comforting
to know that we made the right decision by taking the bus. Upon
arriving back home this morning at 6, my host mom informed me that
there had been a bomb attack on the railway between Trichy and
Chennai, exactly where we would have travelled if we had come home by
train. The explosion occurred while no train was around, and they were
luckily able to avoid any serious accidents, only leaving a small
section of the railway to repair and delaying all the trains in the
area. Even though we hadn't really been in harm's way, it was odd to
have the "terrorist train attack" that we usually only read about or
see a headline of on the news be so nearby.

After waiting for the taxi to come and pick me up this morning from
6-7:45, my host mother called to find out where they were and found
that they had rescheduled me to tomorrow so that I could rest today.
Unfortunately nobody remembered to tell me or Amma. I slept through
the morning hospital shift after that and woke up for lunch before
heading to the Meenakshi bazaar next to the famous Meenakshi temple. I
am scheduled to go to the world famous temple next week, but just the
outside entrance was stunning. The bazaar wad huge and really
fascinating. Jess and Allison were picking up dresses that they were
having made, and the Indian tailor convinced me to let him make me a
pair of capris for only about $6. I've been considering getting some
shirts made, and so I figured I would give it a test run and see how I
like them. So far, everyone I know who has had things custom made has
loved them and I can't wait to see how the pants turn out.

Not much else to report for today. I tried Indian coffee, which I
instantly loved far more than American coffee because it is so sweet
and has so little coffee taste that it's just like a well-caffeinated
tea.

Heading off to the leprosy mission hospital tomorrow and will return
Thursday night...

Chennai and Pondicherry

The 9 hour trip to Chennai on our nicely air-conditioned bus was, despite the
hour long stop on the side of the road to change a tire, largely
uneventful. None of us really slept though, so we found a hotel that
fit our budget and looked much better inside than it did on the
outside (cost about $10/night per person for two non-A/C rooms) and
promptly upon arriving took a nice nap. At 9 am we were more or less
ready to explore Chennai, the capital of the Indian state Tamilnadu.

In the morning, we wandered through the overcast, rainy day to find a
restaurant that was open but finally found one where we had dosa for
breakfast. Then, after two rickshaw rides and some walking, we found
the beach of the Bay of Bengal! Don't quote me on this as a fact, but
I believe that the beach we were on is one of the longest an largest
in area in the world. The sand starts close to the main road but it is
a good 10+ minute walk toward the water before you actually get to it.
The beach was not too crowded with people, and for a good portion of
it, actually free of trash. Closer to the inlet where it flows through
the city though, it looks and smells like a landfill in the water.
After walking and seeing all that we could handle on foot and all that
we could afford by rickshaw, we decided to go to a mall to get lunch.
Although we were eating in a food court that could very well resemble
one in the US, the food and service were far better than at a standard
McDonalds or Subway. I ordered Indian food (aloo gobi masala combo,
which was way more than I could eat for only 100 rupees, or $3) which
was brought to me and bussed away by food court attendants who stood
by waiting to get you a drink or clear your table.

We then walked back to the hotel for nap #2 of the day. Afterward,
since it was still fairly wet outside, we decided to check out a
cinema showing movies in English. We saw "The Prince of Persia", and
the experience was somewhat different than seeing a movie in the US.
People in the audience cheered and booed according to whether or not
the good guys were winning. They whistled at the attractive princess,
and hooted when the prince and princess kissed. It was a really fun
experience and actually probably made the movie seem better (although
I actually liked the movie anyways). Also, our seats were really nice,
leather armchair quality, and the cinema served this really good
gelato-like ice cream in the lobby. The best part about it all was
that the tickets were only about $4 each, making it a really
worthwhile endeavor. After some garlic naan and tea, we paid an
overpriced rickshaw to go back to the hotel for the night.

Eager to get to Pondicherry (or Puducherry, or Pondy as Allison liked
to call it), we woke up the next morning and headed to the public bus
station in Chennai. The public buses are not nearly as nice as the one
that we had taken the day before from Madurai. However, for traveling
on a budget, they can't be beat. Our 4 hour bus from Chennai to
Pondicherry was 95 rupees each, or about $3. You do pay for what you
get though, and it was only by keeping all the windows open and
drinking a lot of water that we all made it to Pondicherry without
getting heat stroke. Since there are no bathrooms on Indian buses,
there is usually at least one stop every couple hours. Our stop on the
bus was the worst part of the trip, because the heat becomes
unbearable and it lasted half an hour. Upon arriving in Pondicherry
though, we quickly forgot our long travel.

Pondicherry is known as the French quarter of India. It is a coastal
town south of Chennai and truly feels like a cross between India and
southern France. The beautiful, rocky shore closest to the center of
town looks out on the endless, blue Bay of Bengal. There is relatively
little trash in this area, and a clear effort to keep it beautiful for
the tourists and French nationals who will find that the locals speak
Tamil, English, and some French, at the very least.

We went to the beach area and then began to walk back toward town to
find a hotel that was more in our price range, as the beach side
palaces surely were not. We had gone no further than maybe three
blocks when we were approached by a young Indian girl, maybe 10 or 11
years old, who asked us if we were looking for a room. Unsure of what
we would find, we followed her back to a house with a small sign that
read "chambres disponibles pour les etrangeres". She showed us two
clean rooms, each with a full bed. Although it would be night #2
without A/C, at only 150 rupees per person ($5) there was no way we
were going to find a better place for nearly the same price anywhere
close to that location.

Our next stop in Pondicherry was at a French/Italian/Indian restaurant
(although it could be argued that Greek and Chinese were mixed into
that menu as well). This multiethnic theme was one that we would later
find at many other restaurants in the area, though this one in
particular had the Lonely Planet seal of approval. Whatever type of
food it actually was, it was a welcome break from the west from the
fiery Indian food that I've become so used to.

Restaurant and cafe hopping became a theme for the weekend, as our
next stop was at a cafe overlooking the Bay. We would visit this 24
hour cafe twice during our visit to Pondy, as it provided a central
place to cool down with a view that couldn't be beat. Our evening was
a bit less relaxed once we decided to try and change our bus tickets
for the Sunday return to Madurai. Our original plan had been to 4
hours back north to Chennai, then another bus 9 hours south to
Madurai. This clearly didn't make any sense to us either, but we had
decided to go to Pondicherry after booking our tickets to Chennai, so
the logical plan became a bit complicated. At first, the bus company
that we had tickets with refused to give us our money back, so we
would be losing almost $40 each by not going back north first.
However, as seems to be the case in India, we just had to find
somebody who had something to benefit by helping us. Our solution was
to find another bus company that would take is straight back to
Madurai, and then have them call the first bus company and convince
them to cancel and refund our tickets so that we could then use that
money to buy tickets with the new bus company. It more or less worked,
with the original tickets being refunded with only a 30% cancellation
fee, still making it cheaper just to go straight back. After an hour
and a half or haggling I think Emanuel put it best in his thick German
accent: "I think we must have drink now". We found a sports bar with
beer, dosa, and World Cup soccer, and unwound after our day.

Day 2 in Pondicherry got a late start and found us restaurant hopping
once again. I can honestly say that I had the best egg scramble (egg,
potato, cheese, tomato) that I have ever had for breakfast, and
probably the best pizza that I have ever had for dinner. It's possible
that this was just my craving for western food being satisfied, but
for some reason the Indian-French culture fusion provided for amazing
cooks and restaurants. We made a midday excursion to a nearby beach
(that we soon found to be much too crowded and after a quick swim, we
left), and before our bus back home, we found ourselves back at the
sports bar once more to watch more soccer.

The only low that I can really give about Pondicherry was one that we
couldn't do anything about: the heat. Just the two hour morning
sightseeing walk that we did to see some old churches this morning
left us all soaked in sweat and feeling completely drained as we
stumbled into the oceanside cafe for a lemonade. If I was going to do
anything different in coming to India, I would come in the winter. I'm
told that the climate isn't significantly different, but just in case
it was slightly cooler, a few degrees would have made it so much more
bearable.

Overall I'm really glad I spent the weekend traveling. It was a
totally new experience to show up in a place, not knowing even which
stop to get off the bus at, find a hotel, get food, and navigate
cities that dwarf even a large US city - all of this while
communicating in a country where English is not the first language,
and in many cases where it is spoken, not entirely coherent. To do
this all in a group where the desires of three people who I had just
met and myself didn't always align was an even bigger accomplishment.
I had a great time with this small group, and am really looking
forward to traveling with them and other volunteers in upcoming
weekends. Next weekend is a Projects Abroad sponsored trip to Kollam,
meaning that all the arrangements will be done for us, making things
far easier for us to just relax and enjoy the trip. The following
weekend we are talking about another small group trip to Kovalam
(excuse the spelling) and possibly also another city which is at the
southernmost point in India. The fact that this leaves me with
potentially only one weekend in India left to plan is kind of
incredible. The first 10 days or so of my trip have gone by so fast,
and I realized today that outside of family trips to the east coast, I
think that 10 days is about the longest that I've ever been away from
home doing traveling of some sort (France, Finland, and China were all
10 days). Adjusting to and traveling in a place that I came to knowing
nobody is also a milestone for me, and it's been a lot of fun so far.

This week should be interesting, and I will hit the ground running
Monday morning at 7 when I head off to the leprosy mission hospital
about an hour and a half outside of Madurai. This is, of course,
assuming an on-time arrival in Madurai on our bus from Pondicherry at
5:30 am.

Off to try and sleep on our non-A/C bus with the man in the seat in
front of me practically in my lap with his seat so far back. Can't
wait to sleep in a bed of my own someday soon...

Hospitals and the Indian Bobblehead

Wow so a lot has happened in the past few days.

First, the hospital. Just like everything else in India, the hospital
was different than I expected. I guess in imagining myself being here
and "volunteering" in a hospital, I kind of thought that they would
have me helping out, whether it was something as simple as restocking
supplies or cleaning up after surgeries or doing menial paperwork. My
actual day to day activities in the hospital really involve none of
these things, and if I were to put in one word what I actually do, it
would be "observe". In the morning, I arrive at the hospital around 9,
bu that is on Indian time, so some days it could mean 9, some days
9:30, or today we didn't start until 10. We (myself and two other
volunteers, Jesse and Emmanuel) wait for the doctor to arrive in the
emergency ward on the ground floor of the 5 story hospital. When the
doctor arrives, so do his 8 residents, 3 Indian interns, and 3
personal nurses. We are all shadowing Dr. Devadoss, who is a
nationally known orthopedic surgeon in India, as well as in some other
parts of the world. Since we are at the 74 year old man's own private
hospital, Devadoss Multispecialty Hospital, he obviously has some
seniority and clout around the place. Even when not followed by his
entourage of 15, the man walks with a presence that just demands
respect. Wherever we go in the hospital, people stop him to talk or
put their hands together and bow to
him. It was very intimidatig on my first day, but just like with all
of his patients, Dr. D paused as he entered the Emergency Ward on
Monday to personally greet me and make a joke before beginning on his
long day. Like I said, he begins in the emergency ward and moves
through the entire building on his morning rounds, seeing every
patient in the hospital. While he sees most for only a minute or two,
he clearly tries very hard to establish a good relationship with the
patients and listen to their concerns. Mornig rounds are easily the
most boring part of my day at the hospital because if, by chance, we
are anywhere near the front of the entourage when entering rooms big
enough for no more than 5 or 6 people, Dr. D may choose to pause and
explain in English to us what he is doing or to tell us about the
patient, or he may also continue quickly on with no explanation.
Morning rounds take just over 2 hours, and all I do is try to keep up
with the group and get in close to the doctor on the offchance that he
decides to explain something. I have quickly learned which rooms have
A/C, and often find myself working the hardest to be next to the
doctor in those rooms, enjoying the brief break from the heat.

After morning rounds, Jesse, Emmanuel, and I take a 15 minute break
and go next door to the hospital to this tiny shack with a room to sit
in and juice and soda and food. Over a Fanta or some strange but yummy
Indian mango juice, we observe our surroundings, without much
conversation, and then head back into the hospital to the operation
theatres.

The operation theatres have easily been the most fascinating part of
the days so far. We change into scrubs with a mask and hair cover, and
walk barefoot through the pre-op room. Depending on who is already in
the theatres, we may end up with tiny white plastic clogs, little
sandals, or totally barefoot. There are three operation theatres, all
with a different surgery for the day, and we generally wander between
the three depending on what is most interesting at the moment. When I
first heard "operation theatres", I had imagined an operation room
with a high ceiling and a little glass room above the table to watch
the surgery, kind of like in "House". They are actually just oversized
operation rooms that we wander around and try not to get in the way.
It's really neat because we are able to get really close and sometimes
stand just opposite the surgeon, peering inside the person lying on
the table in front of us. So far, I have seen a total knee
replacement, an operation to tie a woman's fallopian tubes off, a bone
graft on a leg and an arm with hip bone and metal plates and screws, a
historectomy to remove a football-sized tumor that was in a woman's
uterus, a hip excision, and an operation to cut the tendons in a
cerebral palsy child's arm so that they could extend it fully. The
process of seeing a person in pre-op, watching them be put under, cut
open, closed up, and then seeing them the following day in post-op has
been really cool, and makes the human body seem totally amazing and
resilient.

After two or three hours standing and watching surgeries, we head back
home around 1:30 or 2 for lunch and then have a break until 5 when we
have to be back at the hospital. During our time off we usually just
rest and try to survive when the power cut comes at 4 during the
hottest part of the day and our fans go out. When we go back to the
hospital at 5, we are in Dr. D's office where he sees outpatients. For
this hour and a half, he only has two residents, three nurses, and us
volunteers from Projects Abroad. In observing him, I think I have
truly seen the definition of multi-tasking. People bring him things to
sign and his nurses always have a phone call waiting for him which he
will sometimes take while his residents do basic exams of patients and
he reads the x-rays that the patients bring in with them. Amazingly,
it is also during this time that the doctor gives us the most insight
into what he is doing and why, and he really takes the time to explain
things and answer our questions. We leave at about 6:30, when the
doctor usually has about 4 more hours of work for the day. For a 74
year old surgeon who has been working his whole life, Dr. D amazes me
as he works from 9 am to 10 pm, with only a short break in the middle
of the day. I am told that this is very typical of Indian people though.

Afterwards we head back home and have dinner and find something to do
to occupy our time until we go to bed. Monday night, all the
volunteers staying at the house hung out and watched TV. Emmanuel from
Germany and Jess (Jessica) from England are staying in my house, and
Jesse from Canada, Marin from Canada, and Seb from England are next
door at the grandmother's house.

Last night, we all went to this hotel in town and met up with a bunch
of other volunteers in Madurai. We sat at a restaurant on top of the
hotel that overlooked the city and had dinner and drinks for almost 3
hours. I met people from England, France, Germany, Japan, Canada, and
the US. It was really fun to meet some other people who are going
through all the same adjustments to Indian culture as I am, and we had
great converstations about everything from arranged marriage to
cultural dress to volunteer experience. Being from different
countries, it was also fascinating to talk about differences and
similarities between our schools, healthcare systems, government,
media and entertainment, etc. It was also a nice break from being
forced to eat my weight in spicy Indian food, which although I
realized that I've actually gained weight since I got here, I still
like. I've gotten really good at refusing more and making deals with
my host mom so that I promise to eat to pieces of bread for breakfast
in exchange for not having a third helping of rice and curried
potatoes. It's working out nicely and I actually got hungry for the
first time since I've been here today (there was no way my host mother
was going to hear that though).

Other interesting things of note...

- We've seen a lot of babies with cerebral palsy in the hospital. Dr.
D informed us that diseases like cerebral palsy are a huge problem in
India because since people only marry within their castes, it provides
for an in-breeding effect where a lot of genetic diseases continue to
surge because people are marrying and reproducing with others so close
to those with the same diseases and disorders.

- I seem to have made friends with Dr. D's personal nurses who are
three tiny Indian women who look like they could be 15 but are
probably 25ish. They were laughing and pointing at me while the doctor
was taking a call yesterday, and I finally figured out that they were
laughing at my earrings. I asked my host mom about men with pierced
ears and she told me that she'd had to try very hard not to laugh
when she met me because she thought my ears were so funny.

- There are wild cows, dogs, and cats roaming the streets all the time
here. I almost backed into a cow today while waiting on the side of
the road for the bus, trying not to get hit by the passing rickshaws.

Those are all the abstract things I can remember for now, although I
will have to try to write more things down during the day to write
about because there are just so many different, crazy, interesting
things here.

All for now, off to bed!

A Taste Of India

India. It's hard to know where to begin to start describing everything
that I have already seen and everything that I have learned and I'm
sure that whatever I say, I will definitely miss important things and
not do this place justice in my description.

The people, food, transportation, and pretty much everything here is
fascinating and different from everything I have ever seen and
experienced before. I can already tell that I am going to gain so much
insight from living with a host family into things I might not
otherwise have seen or learned.

My family consists of a host mother, Premila (who I am to call "aman"
- my English phonetic spelling version), two host brothers, Doodle and
Michael, a host father, and a grandmother who lives next door that I
met briefly last night.

I'll start with my host brother, Doodle, who picked me up from the
airport in Chennai. Doodle works for the Projects Abroad company,
which has been a huge advantage in my learning about the placement in
the hospital, as well as my living in the home. I think he is about
25, but that is only based on other things he has told me about
himself. I have realized that I am terrible at trying to judge how old
people that I meet in India are, and often times I get the feeling
that those in the lower social classes probably appear much more aged
than those in higher social classes, so that makes it hard to judge as
well. Doodle works for Projects Abroad part-time and is in school part
time, studying something to do with computers I think, and is hoping
to move to the United States when he finishes school next year.
Although he was a very intimidating looking member of the family in
the picture that was sent to me before I arrived, Doodle has been
anything but intimidating since I've been here. He has ordered all my
food when we've gone to restaurants, showed me many important places
in Madurai (hospital, bus station, train station, supermarket, ATM)
and is now helping me to try and locate a SIM card for my phone. He is
always asking me if I need anything, want more food, have any
questions, etc., and has been a great guide for my crash course in
Indian life. Today, after having ridden around in the auto-rickshaws
together for the morning, he had me hail one and try to negotiate the
price and tell the driver where I wanted to go. I managed to get us
very close, but had no idea what to say when the driver stopped in the
middle of the intersection and turned around to ask me what I presume
was something like "where do I go now?". Using street addresses to go
anywhere is impossible because the streets are not marked and most of
the drivers have no idea where they are to begin with. Instead, you
have to tell them the neighborhood name and then give a landmark
within the neighborhood to get you closer. We'll see how I do Monday
when I have to go it alone to get to work...

My host mother, Premila, is a very sweet woman who I can already tell
I am going to have to be negotiating with a lot so that she doesn't
overfeed me at every meal. This is an issue that I was having with
Doodle as well in the restaurants as well. He would order me something
and I would ear it and then he would order me something else and I
would eat that too, and then he would keep offering to order me more
food until I had eaten so much that I literally could not eat anymore
and told him so. Premila is very much the same way, and after I had
eaten three scramble eggs and four pieces of toast this morning at
breakfast (more of which just kept appearing out of the kitchen), I
finally had to tell her that there was no way I could eat another bite
of toast and jam. I'm starting to get the picture that maybe instead
of finishing all the food that I am served the first time, I should
eat almost all of it, but stop before my plate is empty. Otherwise I
may soon end up having even more trouble getting through the doorways
that I already have to go through sideways.

My host brother Michael (I think he has a nickname to but i haven't
been able to catch it yet) is also extremely nice and helpful (I'm
starting to see a pattern here with this family). We chatted today
over lunch while watching an Indian cooking show in the living room
(which is probably about the size of a larger than average American
bathroom, but crammed full of a little couch and a couple plastic
chairs and a small table and some cabinets and the fridge and TV).
Michael is currently on summer vacation but will be back in school in
two weeks. He is about my age, and is going to be starting his third
and final year in a computer science B.A program at a nearby college.
He is very funny, and told me stories about other volunteers who had
stayed with the family in the past.

I know little more about my host father, who I am to call "ahpa", than
I did when I saw his picture about a month ago. I'm not totally sure
if he speaks English, and if he does he hasn't said anything in my
presence so far. He works in a nearby city so he will usually leave
the house early in the morning and come back late in the evening.

I am sharing a room with three other volunteers who are currently
staying with the family. Two of them are away for the weekend and I
will meet them tomorrow night, and one of them named Mike who is here
from Denmark is leaving tomorrow, soon to be replaced by a girl from
the UK. There are a couple other volunteers staying next door at the
grandmother's home, but they are also gone for the weekend and I have
not yet met them. Our room is big enough for two small metal bunkbeds
with about a two-foot wide path to walk between them. There are also
three small tables for toiletries. My bacpack and clothes have so far
remained in my pack, but once Mike leaves I will take over a little
area of another wooden bedframe to put my things on. The room is air-
conditioned, which after sleeping last night I can't even imagine not
having here. There is a little thermometer in the living room that I
have not seen go below 90 degrees since I got here last night, and it
has been over 100 inside all day, even with the ceiling fans. My room
is kept at a very comfortable 75-80 degrees, which is really
refreshing to come back to especially after waking outside. The
humidity is actually probably much worse than the heat itself, and has
kept me sticky and sweaty all day.

There is a small kitchen next to the living room, and then the house
continues up a narrow set of stairs that also provide the main
entrance into the house. The upstairs is actually designed very
similar to the downstairs. The family bedroom is on the far end of the
floor (the staircase brings you up to the middle of the floor). The
whole family sleeps in this one bedroom, as is traditional for
families to do in India until children are married and move out of the
house. There is a laundry room above the kitchen on the opposite end
from the bedroom, and then a door that leads out to a fenced outdoor
area that connects to the bathroom. The bathroom consists of a western
style toilet that can only take waste (no toilet paper) and must be
sprayed down with the hose after each use. In the same small, tiled,
square room are two large buckets with large plastic cups. This is the
shower. It is actually extremely efficient and took me only about 5
minutes to use this morning to use and feel mostly clean. The water is
about room temperature, which is cool but not too cold, especially
with the heat of the outside.

After our tour of Madurai this morning and a nice lunch at home
(though very spicy, which I'm told by Mike from Denmark that I should
just get used to), I am having a nice rest in my room, taking
advantage of the last hour before the power cuts. This is a planned,
daily occurrence in Madurai, and I think in other parts of Tamilnadu
and the rest of India as well. The power will go out for 2-3 hours
starting around 4 in the afternoon. Aside from the planned power cuts,
I'm also told to expect them sporadically throughout the day as well.

The traffic and drivers here in India has to be one of the craziesr
things I have ever seen. Crossing the street is a death wish and there
is absolutely no way that I would ever even think about trying to
drive here. All the bus, motorcycle, auto-rickshaw, and the occasional
car drivers seem to have their hands on their horns more than their
steering wheels, and it would be unheard of for anybody to stay on
their side of the road (which by the way is the left side and is still
confusing me). When passing the buses in the auto-rickshaw today, our
driver veered out into oncoming traffic and drove between two oncoming
motorcyclists, went around another oncoming bus, and finally cut back
into our lane in front of the bus we were passing. I have not yet seen
a streetlight, and I'm sure that if they do exist, they are more for
show than anything.

Sleeping last night was great, even though I'm still not really
totally adjusted to the time change. However, the walls are really
thin and I woke up to lots of honking and yelling around 5 this
morning, which meant that morning traffic had started. According to my
host mother, I should also not be surprised if I wake up some mornings
to hear elephants knocking on the back wall of our room, which faces
the street, with their trunks. If I hadn't already been surprised by
so many things here, I would have thought that she was joking. I guess
I'll have to wait and see on that one, and in the mean time I'm sure I
will adjust to the morning commute noise.

Off to watch "Kung Fu Panda" on the TV with the family!

Finally Arrived in Madurai

Please excuse the length of this post in advance. It documents my entire journey to get here, starting in Eugene.

Waking up to my alarm clock at 3:45 in the morning to leave Eugene was quite a way to begin my trip around the world. I got to the Eugene airport, checked my bag and got on the plane with no delays. Everything looked good as I sat in my seat, looking out on the rainy morning in Eugene, until I reached for my money belt to get a piece of gum. No money belt... As I frantically tried to remember if I had put it back on after going through security and searched my bag, I heard a little dinging sound and the clunk of the plane's door closing and locking into place, separating me fom my two debit cards, credit card, and my driver's license on the other side.

I hit the flight attendant call button so hard that I think I scared the guy sitting next to me. "No", I was told - they would not reopen the cabin door. However, they did manage to locate it in the airport (on the floor where I had been sitting, waiting to board). It would be put on the next plane to Eugene, which would arrive with more than enough time to let me get to my Frankfurt flight. With a sigh of relief, I sat back in my seat and tried to fall asleep (although even after sleeping only three hours the night before and at 5:45 in the morning, my racing heart after the nearly avoided brush with a minor crisis would have none of it).

Four and a half hours later, after a short flight and an agonizing three hour period of pacing through the San Francisco Airport, I was reunited with that dumb, ugly belt. Very much relieved, I headed to the international terminal.

The next four and a half hours passed without incident, or really anything for that matter. With no more free internet, eyes too tired to read, no cell phone, and finding myself not at all hungry, I laid down on a stretch of seats (pinned down under the armrests that I barely slid under) and closed my eyes.

The flight departed half an hour late. The flight was lonnnnng. And since I was rebooked from the Lufthansa flight to the United flight, my favorite parts of flying internationally (free wine and the personal in flight movie screen) were unfortunately not present. I watched Extraordinary Measures, Invictus, part of Crazy Heart, and tried to sleep a little bit.

The Frankfurt airport was, as usual, one of the more stressful experiences of my life. Although it is my fourth time flying internationally (first time alone), I swear that I will still never understand how to navigate the place and the rules on how to move through the airport. To clarify, we arrived in Frankfurt with under an hour until my flight to Chennai was schedule to depart. After taking a bus to the airport terminal, I was ushered up the stairs to a line for "Passport Control/Baggage Claim/A gates". There was also another sign off to the left pointing to "B gates", where I needed to be very soon, but which did not require me to go through any sort of Passport control or to claim my bag to be rechecked (which I think I had always had to do in the past there). I tried asking an airport woman where I needed to go and she pointed me toward the "B gates". I soon found myself in a huge security line which I passed through fairly quickly and ran to my
gate. Upon arriving at my gate (oh yeah, forgot to mention that United had been unable to print my final boarding pass for this next flight in Eugene) I waited in line to talk to two young German Lufthansa ladies. Through a heavy German accent, I was told that my ticket did not exist and that I would have to pay $250 as a change fee for not taking the flight the day before (which I had missed because of the canceled flight). Exhausted and slightly emotional, I explained to the woman my ordeal that had begun the day prior. Whether my explanation was adequate or if she just took pity on me, I have no idea, but nonetheless I walked from her desk right to the boarding line and onto the plane. From what I could understand, my bag was being transferred and I had somehow correctly navigated my way through the maze of Frankfurt.

This flight, although my second long haul of the day (9 hours), was actually significantly better. I had the two seats to myself on the side of the plane, which meant that I had plenty of room to stretch out. My goal was to try and stay awake for most of the flight so that when I arrived late Thursday night in Chennai, I would be able to fall asleep. About two hours into the flight, I realized that this was going to be totally impossible as I had been traveling for over 24 hours and hadn't slept more than an hour or so. A three-hour nap brought me back into a state of normal exhaustion. When I awoke, I saw on the map that we had flown almost directly over Tehran and were now flying high above some of the mountainous Pakistani terrain.

Flying over Karachi, I opened my window to a dark sky and the most amazing display of stars that I think I have ever seen from a plane. It was really somewhat hard to imagine that I was flying over these places that have so much focus and attention in the media and that we talk about in school, but that always seem to be so far away that I can't even really imagine them existing. Although I obviously didn't stop off at any of these places, a part of me still felt some of the "impossibly far away" feeling about this part of the world shrink a little bit.

The flight arrived in Chennai a little after midnight. As the flight monitor screen showed us lowering in altitude, the outdoor temperature monitor began to rise. I walked off the plane through what I can only describe as a "wall" of heat. I stood in this humid, 90+ degree heat in line for customs for 45 minutes, then went to search for my bag. The bag arrived, although I had to wait another half hour for it to appear on the belt. I kid you not when I say that it was the last bag loaded onto the baggage claim, so by the time I saw it, I had pretty muh given up all hope. I walked through the exit and saw my host brother, Doodle, standing and waiting with a sign. We proceeded to find a taxi and go to our hotel for the night. Driving through Chennai validated everything I had ever heard about driving in India. Even compared to the Chinese, I would have to say that Indian drivers are the most daring and reckless that I have ever seen.

After 36 hours with no conversation longer than with the gate agent in Frankfurt, it was so great and welcoming to have Doodle to accompany me back to the hotel. He also works for the program that I am going to be working with, so in addition to answering all my questions about the family and the town, he was also able to tell me all about the company and my job placement.

Got into bed (or I suppose I should say onto bed since there were no sheets) and went to sleep around 2:45am.

The next day (Friday), I had a good bit of Indian food, which was all very good. We then took a 9 hour bus ride to Madurai and an "auto-rickshaw" to the house. The family is wonderful and there are a bunch of other volunteers for me to talk with as well.

I found a wireless signal for internet which is how I am finally posting this very long blog post that I have been working on on my iPod for the last couple days. Very tired and now, some 55 hours after I left home in Eugene, I have arrived at my new home for the next month.

More to come soon about India!