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...