
Well the conference is over. It is about five in the morning. I woke around 2:30 am. I fell asleep early last night, I guess around ten. Yesterday I took off, the Conference was winding down; I was tired and frustrated. I called Marilyn in the morning, around 11:30 pm EST and woke her up. It was good to hear her voice. I’m not exactly homesick, but I miss home. I miss Marilyn, I miss Andrew, I miss Mike, William I miss but I probably would not have seen him even if I was at home. It was good to talk to her and hear the news even if she was half asleep. It made my day much better.
My stay in Hyderabad has been frustrating. Solid internet access in Cyberbad is far from universal. Things are beginning to ply up at work. As of yet I am not behind, but without a good internet connection I feel I am wasting my time. With a good connection everything is smooth. The Hotel’s internet connection is still down who know when it will be working again. In the usual Indian fashion, an inquiry into when it will be working always leads to the response, “Do not worry it will be working in an hour.” I think the internet cafĂ© a couple of door away has a dial-up connection it is so slow, it seems I spend most of my time waiting for keys strokes to register. I am working on strategies to overcome these frustrations.
I went to Birla Mandar Temple on the hill behind the Hotel. It sets on the top of Kalabahad (Black Mountain). I have a view of it from my room if I put my face against the window and cock my head in a very uncomfortable position. It is a famous Temple in Hyderabad. It is new, built within the last 30 years. It is constructed of white marble; everything is white marble including the steps. Unfortunately, you can only photograph it from the lower grounds. I am not sure if that is a religious prohibition or a image rights issue. Anyways cameras are not permitted at the Temple – you must check your camera, bags, food and beverages. You also must check your shoes if you want to enter the upper grounds and the Temple. Shoe lockers are free, in fact, tipping is not permitted.
At the entrance to the Temple grounds is a market – mostly very cheap junk, but one of the stalls was selling plastic bags of a partial coconut shell and flowers and maybe some other small items. I think they are offerings, not sure, they carry them about with them while they are on the grounds. They are not permitted to carry the bags up to the Temple – they leave them hung on the fence next to the camera check building.
Another stall is a barber. Many barber shops are open air in India; however, in this one I noticed something different, the barber was shaving the underarms of a young man with a straight razor. I wonder if shaved underarms in men is a custom here. It’s curious, with all the shirtless men on the street, I haven’t noticed, nor can I recall any mental images that would help. I took a photo but by the time the shutter clicked the barber was poising for me. I missed the shaving.
The Temple is beautiful, but I’m not much on sightseeing; at least, not in the traditional sense. I would rather wander the neighborhoods – take a bus to an unknown destination. Just walk and take photographs. Even if I did it would be waste, the postcard artist will have always done it better. I’ll take a few for the sake of the story. I think it adds something to the Online Journal. I don’t like to take photographs of the top 200 wonders of India, or Las Vegas for that matter. I do like to take photographs of the people, places and neighborhood.

The other day I went to Charminar, Hyderabad’s principle landmark. According to the Lonely Plant Guide it was built in 1591. It is a four column construction with each archway facing a cardinal point of the compass. Each column is topped by a minaret. Charminar was built to commemorate the end of a plague. I think most people find that interesting, and I can understand why, I just don’t. Enough of tourist’s data to remember, back to my point; I was more interest in the markets and neighborhood surrounding Charminar than in Charminar.
Ideally I would like to be inconspicuous but that is never going to happen in India. As I wander the streets and allys, I am the curiosity - a large bald westerner with a camera and daypack, the usual young backpacker can almost blend into the colors of the neighborhoods; not me I make a statement. When I began to take photographs on my trips I was shy about taking photographs of people on the street – I got over it. When I was home and began editing the photographs of a trip; the images would remind me of the photographs not taken. The other day is an example - the cow knocking at the door of the home in the back ally of Paharanji. I will probable remember that images much longer than any of the images I actually take. I should have swallowed hard and taken the photo, but I didn’t, I was concerned that I would offend the woman answering the door. It is more likely that she would have just thought that I was just another crazy westerner taking photographs of things that were ordinary and boring. I remember the period when the Japanese economy was booming and the US was flooded with Japanese tourist with cameras. I was never offended by the picture taking. I guess it was more of a source of amusement than anything else. It was a stereotype, but so what; maybe I am an American stereotype, just hopefully not an ugly stereotype.
In most places I have visited people ignore me. The Mayan do not want their photo taken and in Central America you have to be careful about taking photographs of children – they are afraid that information is being collected to kidnap the children for adoption in America. Child kidnapping is rare and is not a problem, at least not to the extent of the perception. But otherwise street photography has never been a problem.
In India people like to be photographed. People ask me to photograph them. I think they think it is an honor to be photographed. In a way they are right, they have been selected because they are interesting. Most of the time, they do not even ask to see the photograph. I take the photo and they say, ‘Thank you sir.’ I thank them in return and move on. If someone notices that I am about to take their photo I ask permission by holding up my camera and nodding my head up and down. A smile means yes, a shaking finger or raised hand means no, but that is rare.
Photographing muslin women is another story. I’m just not sure what custom dictate. If I point my camera at someone and they turn away, I lower my camera, and indicate that I have not taken a photo – this has happened several times with woman in burkas. On the other hand, I asked a woman exiting a pedi-cab if I could take her photograph; she was thrilled, her smile was almost flirtatious. Even through she was wearing a burka, her face was not covered. I have seen many photographs of women in burkas many of them produced by muslins – tourist bouchures, etc. Maybe I’ll find out when I go to Pakistan.
After my visit to the Temple I meandered down the opposite side of the hill. Even though I could see the Temple from my window I took a pedi-cab to the Temple. It cost about 60 cents. I didn’t want to spend the time climbing the hill and running into dead ends. On the opposite side the streets were clean, quiet and shaded. It seemed to be a middle class neighborhood, maybe an upper class neighborhood. I ended up at an ice cream pastry shop. I had a coke and a bag of chips – unsalted as it turns out. A chip is just not a chip without the salt, in fact, it’s pretty damn boring. It sort of reminded me of the thick designer chips that were so popular, hard and tasteless. Maybe it is time to walk away from potato chips.
After returning to the Hotel I edited some photographs and watched a movie. I’ve been trying to keep the TV off. For one thing there is very little on – just like in America. The CNN IDE collaboration has very little western news, even the BBC is the same. I’m not being critical, we see very little news on South Asia in America. Anyways I wanted to get in the habit of reading writing and recording. I want to keep the Online Journal as up-to-date as possible. If possible I write, usually in the morning, and if I’m tired I record into the iRiver device.
The iRiver device is great, I’m very happy I have it. In addition to recording notes, I can record sounds. Who knows if anyone would be interested but it may be fun to merge the sounds with the note recordings.
I’m not sure if anyone is looking at the site. For the first few day of my trip I didn’t post anything – too busy. I guess I should send out a mass email telling people that I have actually published entries on the trip. I have been posting photographs to my Yahoo Photo site. I’ve sent the notices to a few people; Marilyn has forwarded them to the usual relatives. She tells me that they are enjoying the photographs. I hope so, but even if nobody looked I’m continue. I enjoy the act of photograph. I sharpens me, it forces me to notice things (shaved underarms aside) that I might have missed before. The camera invites people to point out things to me that they think I should photograph.The paper has just arrived – The Decca Chronicle; it’s about 7:30 am – time for a shower and breakfast. Actually at this point a shower is only an expression. I have a shower in my room, but I’ve taken to the bucket and pale. I started when the water temperature started varying greatly. I was afraid I scald myself. Usual getting hot water is a problem in this Hotel, getting cold water seems to be a challenge. The bucket and pale method works better than it sounds. I fill the bucket, I guess it holds about ten gallons, drench myself, soap up, and then rise with the pale. Tempted to get one at home, but we don’t have the room; it would be pushing Marilyn too far.
My stay in Hyderabad has been frustrating. Solid internet access in Cyberbad is far from universal. Things are beginning to ply up at work. As of yet I am not behind, but without a good internet connection I feel I am wasting my time. With a good connection everything is smooth. The Hotel’s internet connection is still down who know when it will be working again. In the usual Indian fashion, an inquiry into when it will be working always leads to the response, “Do not worry it will be working in an hour.” I think the internet cafĂ© a couple of door away has a dial-up connection it is so slow, it seems I spend most of my time waiting for keys strokes to register. I am working on strategies to overcome these frustrations.
I went to Birla Mandar Temple on the hill behind the Hotel. It sets on the top of Kalabahad (Black Mountain). I have a view of it from my room if I put my face against the window and cock my head in a very uncomfortable position. It is a famous Temple in Hyderabad. It is new, built within the last 30 years. It is constructed of white marble; everything is white marble including the steps. Unfortunately, you can only photograph it from the lower grounds. I am not sure if that is a religious prohibition or a image rights issue. Anyways cameras are not permitted at the Temple – you must check your camera, bags, food and beverages. You also must check your shoes if you want to enter the upper grounds and the Temple. Shoe lockers are free, in fact, tipping is not permitted.
At the entrance to the Temple grounds is a market – mostly very cheap junk, but one of the stalls was selling plastic bags of a partial coconut shell and flowers and maybe some other small items. I think they are offerings, not sure, they carry them about with them while they are on the grounds. They are not permitted to carry the bags up to the Temple – they leave them hung on the fence next to the camera check building.
Another stall is a barber. Many barber shops are open air in India; however, in this one I noticed something different, the barber was shaving the underarms of a young man with a straight razor. I wonder if shaved underarms in men is a custom here. It’s curious, with all the shirtless men on the street, I haven’t noticed, nor can I recall any mental images that would help. I took a photo but by the time the shutter clicked the barber was poising for me. I missed the shaving.
The Temple is beautiful, but I’m not much on sightseeing; at least, not in the traditional sense. I would rather wander the neighborhoods – take a bus to an unknown destination. Just walk and take photographs. Even if I did it would be waste, the postcard artist will have always done it better. I’ll take a few for the sake of the story. I think it adds something to the Online Journal. I don’t like to take photographs of the top 200 wonders of India, or Las Vegas for that matter. I do like to take photographs of the people, places and neighborhood.

The other day I went to Charminar, Hyderabad’s principle landmark. According to the Lonely Plant Guide it was built in 1591. It is a four column construction with each archway facing a cardinal point of the compass. Each column is topped by a minaret. Charminar was built to commemorate the end of a plague. I think most people find that interesting, and I can understand why, I just don’t. Enough of tourist’s data to remember, back to my point; I was more interest in the markets and neighborhood surrounding Charminar than in Charminar.
Ideally I would like to be inconspicuous but that is never going to happen in India. As I wander the streets and allys, I am the curiosity - a large bald westerner with a camera and daypack, the usual young backpacker can almost blend into the colors of the neighborhoods; not me I make a statement. When I began to take photographs on my trips I was shy about taking photographs of people on the street – I got over it. When I was home and began editing the photographs of a trip; the images would remind me of the photographs not taken. The other day is an example - the cow knocking at the door of the home in the back ally of Paharanji. I will probable remember that images much longer than any of the images I actually take. I should have swallowed hard and taken the photo, but I didn’t, I was concerned that I would offend the woman answering the door. It is more likely that she would have just thought that I was just another crazy westerner taking photographs of things that were ordinary and boring. I remember the period when the Japanese economy was booming and the US was flooded with Japanese tourist with cameras. I was never offended by the picture taking. I guess it was more of a source of amusement than anything else. It was a stereotype, but so what; maybe I am an American stereotype, just hopefully not an ugly stereotype.
In most places I have visited people ignore me. The Mayan do not want their photo taken and in Central America you have to be careful about taking photographs of children – they are afraid that information is being collected to kidnap the children for adoption in America. Child kidnapping is rare and is not a problem, at least not to the extent of the perception. But otherwise street photography has never been a problem.
In India people like to be photographed. People ask me to photograph them. I think they think it is an honor to be photographed. In a way they are right, they have been selected because they are interesting. Most of the time, they do not even ask to see the photograph. I take the photo and they say, ‘Thank you sir.’ I thank them in return and move on. If someone notices that I am about to take their photo I ask permission by holding up my camera and nodding my head up and down. A smile means yes, a shaking finger or raised hand means no, but that is rare.
Photographing muslin women is another story. I’m just not sure what custom dictate. If I point my camera at someone and they turn away, I lower my camera, and indicate that I have not taken a photo – this has happened several times with woman in burkas. On the other hand, I asked a woman exiting a pedi-cab if I could take her photograph; she was thrilled, her smile was almost flirtatious. Even through she was wearing a burka, her face was not covered. I have seen many photographs of women in burkas many of them produced by muslins – tourist bouchures, etc. Maybe I’ll find out when I go to Pakistan.
After my visit to the Temple I meandered down the opposite side of the hill. Even though I could see the Temple from my window I took a pedi-cab to the Temple. It cost about 60 cents. I didn’t want to spend the time climbing the hill and running into dead ends. On the opposite side the streets were clean, quiet and shaded. It seemed to be a middle class neighborhood, maybe an upper class neighborhood. I ended up at an ice cream pastry shop. I had a coke and a bag of chips – unsalted as it turns out. A chip is just not a chip without the salt, in fact, it’s pretty damn boring. It sort of reminded me of the thick designer chips that were so popular, hard and tasteless. Maybe it is time to walk away from potato chips.
After returning to the Hotel I edited some photographs and watched a movie. I’ve been trying to keep the TV off. For one thing there is very little on – just like in America. The CNN IDE collaboration has very little western news, even the BBC is the same. I’m not being critical, we see very little news on South Asia in America. Anyways I wanted to get in the habit of reading writing and recording. I want to keep the Online Journal as up-to-date as possible. If possible I write, usually in the morning, and if I’m tired I record into the iRiver device.
The iRiver device is great, I’m very happy I have it. In addition to recording notes, I can record sounds. Who knows if anyone would be interested but it may be fun to merge the sounds with the note recordings.
I’m not sure if anyone is looking at the site. For the first few day of my trip I didn’t post anything – too busy. I guess I should send out a mass email telling people that I have actually published entries on the trip. I have been posting photographs to my Yahoo Photo site. I’ve sent the notices to a few people; Marilyn has forwarded them to the usual relatives. She tells me that they are enjoying the photographs. I hope so, but even if nobody looked I’m continue. I enjoy the act of photograph. I sharpens me, it forces me to notice things (shaved underarms aside) that I might have missed before. The camera invites people to point out things to me that they think I should photograph.The paper has just arrived – The Decca Chronicle; it’s about 7:30 am – time for a shower and breakfast. Actually at this point a shower is only an expression. I have a shower in my room, but I’ve taken to the bucket and pale. I started when the water temperature started varying greatly. I was afraid I scald myself. Usual getting hot water is a problem in this Hotel, getting cold water seems to be a challenge. The bucket and pale method works better than it sounds. I fill the bucket, I guess it holds about ten gallons, drench myself, soap up, and then rise with the pale. Tempted to get one at home, but we don’t have the room; it would be pushing Marilyn too far.
1 comment:
I am reading your daily blogs. It sounds like you are in doubt as to your readership.
I look forward to reading new inserts and viewing pics. Thanks
Nancy
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