R K Ashram Marg January 26, 2007

This is a clip of the R K Ashram Marg in New Delhi on January 26, 2007.

Elephant Blessing - Madurai

This clip was taken at one of the portals of the Sri Meenakshi Temple in Mardurai, India. There are four gates to the temple and each is guarded by an elephant. For a few Rupees donation the elephant will bless you.

NANDI SCHOOL OF ART

Today is the day that I planned to return from India and Pakistan. Since my trip to Pakistan was cancelled I returned home a week early; so here I sit in Wheaton at 4:00 in the morning. I’ve been told that it takes ten days to recover from jet lag. Victoria, the master traveler of the office, told me that after ten days I will feel much better. She said that until I start to feel better I will not realize that I wasn’t feeling good. Aside from my sleep schedule being disrupted, I don’t feel bad. Right now I am going to sleep around nine and waking between two and three. By three I’m up and putzing. I hope that I can keep to this schedule. The evening is usually a waste, television is a wasteland, I’m too tired to read anything but the news, and Marilyn usually retires early, so why stay up. After I get a little coffee in me I not only have the energy, but also the desire to write.

The first few days after the trip I was wiped-out, I returned last Thursday afternoon; on Friday I made a token appearance at the office. Marilyn had her weekend planned. Andrew was suffering from mononucleosis, so my weekend was devoted to short activities between naps. Andrew and I did manage to get to see ‘Children of Men.’

It was only yesterday that I finally had the time to go through my personal email. I had also been avoiding it – I dreaded the chore of dealing with the junk and spam email that was sure to have accumulated since the 13^th. The most interesting discovery was a couple of messages from Jeannie, my sister-in-law. Jeannie is an artist and works a Nandi School of Art in Montclair, New Jersey. Lisa Rosenthal, the owner of the school, liked the photographs from my trip and decided to use a few as models for the students.

Jeannie sent a few photographs of the students interpreting my photographs. I like the interpretations and curious about the selections why did they pick one photograph as a subject over another? Of course I’ll never know the answer, probably no answer to be found, but still….

By the way anyone interested in learning more about Nandi can contact: the school at:

NANDI SCHOOL OF ART

179 Glenridge Avenue

Montclair, NJ 07042

973-744-3821

info@nandiart.com

www.nandiart.com

I was curious about the name; I thought it was an acronym. Nandi, it turns out, is the name of the bull that carries Shiva, the Hindu god of creativity, hence Nandi represent the conveyor of creativity.

I have completed the planning for my next trip. I travel to Durban, South Africa in a few weeks for a ten day stay. Once again it will be a long flight, this time through London’s Heathrow on Virgin Atlantic and return on Air France through Charles de Gaulle. I’ve become accustomed to the long flights; as long as I have an aisle seat the flights are fine. I’ve enjoyed the Air France flights; between the food and the movies I may end up a Francophile.

While my trip has ended, the Online Travel Journal will continue. I have about twice as much written than I have posted, and much more in the form of recorded notes and photographs. I will edit and post as time allows. I have also been working on a day-to-day chronology. I want it to keep track of where I went when and with whom I meet. We’ll see if I can make it interesting.

I discovered that if I sent out a notice when a trip begins I had better have items posted and update the Journal at least every other day. Seems obvious, right? On this trip I sent out a notice the day before the trip. However, between travel, recovery, and internet access it was several days before I published anything to the Journal. After I sent out the notice people went to the Journal but there were no posts – after a few days many gave up.

I think I will set up a system of email notifications for posting. The trick will be to avoid annoying everyone by adding to their email volume. I will just have to set it up as an opted-in system.

Photographs at NANDI courtesy of Jeanmarie Mara

From the Lounge Bangalore International

It has been awhile, I didn’t make any entries in Chennai or Madurai. While I didn’t have the energy for written entries I did record audio notes of my days in Chennai and Madurai. I also took hundreds of photos in the last few days – I’ve even edited some of them; just so you know I haven’t been slacking off. I was only in Chennai over night. I enjoyed the Hotel – it was great. All the luxuries I’ve been missing – an internet connection in the room and indirect lighting. The light was warm, friendly even - not sterile and without shadow. It had character. I read, had a few beers and slept.

The desire to learn English is very strong, strong enough to motivate a couple of airline stewardesses to approach me for conversation at breakfast. Let me preface this by saying that we no longer have these types of stewardesses in America; all of America’s stewardesses have been eliminated. We have progressed to airline attendants - highly educated, motivated, strong of character, long on experience; and let me tell you, the moment something happens I want these people about, until that time, can I please at least in India air out the small part of me that remains primitive, chauvinistic and a wee bit sexist and enjoy the young, naïve, the non-male, the smiling stewardesses of yesterday as preserved in the emerging market of India. To those of the politically correct persuasion; I applaud our progress in the name of fairness and eliminating the scourge of sexism, however, I plead with you give me a moment to wallow in my unenlightened past. The stewardesses are all young, slim and beautiful – again let me emphasize it doesn’t matter a bit.

Anyways it wasn’t as if they exposed their womanhood to me they just wanted to make small talk, ask a few questions and be complimented on their English.. Some of the stewardesses are so petite that they have negative hips. They are so narrow that they add space to the universe.

The next day I went to the airport the long way, by way of Fort Saint George and the Municipal Beach. The Fort was a disappointment. I thought I would be able to see the Bay of Bengal from the Fort, but no luck only the typical military museum. What is it with these army guys that they have to have a museum at every Fort with canons and swords?

The Beach was more interesting, the poverty and the dirt, but a very wide beach. I probably didn’t get closer than one hundred yards to the water. I didn’t want to get out of sight of the taxis. I guess it would have been fine to trust the guy, but after I had my cell phone stolen I’m not in much of a trusting mood.

I’m starting to fade, dealing with the stewardess issue in a straight forward yet sensitive manner took it out of me, so let’s fast forward – I’m in Bangalore. I got a 7 pm flight on Air Deccan out of Madurai. The day started early as have all the days in Madurai. I had breakfast and then took a walk to the river. I wanted to photograph the cows grazing around the meandering flow of the river – not much more that a stream at this time of year. It ended up about a 2 mile walk – I only had to back track once. Upon my return I planned on working on the internet but Sathya showed up with the schedule for the day schedule. He had made arrangements for me to meet with Professor V. – the technology guru of Aravind. I first meet him at the London 06 meeting of the 20/20 Technology Committee. Since this isn’t a work journal I’m will turn away from the professional.

Can’t keep my eyes open, so I will end here

Internet Cafes

What do you think of when you think of an Internet café? Do you think of Starbucks with a barista bringing you a coffee and a snack as you commute with the world? Nay, in the developing world, it’s usually a hole in the wall, maybe a carrel maybe not, sometimes with kids running around, many times so cramped that you are pointing your head at your lap to see the screen. Populated by students and techno-nerds (I say that affectionately since I’ve often been accused of being one). Frequently nobody speaks English, of course they don’t, I don’t speak Hindi. Connections vary, from the painfully slow to the fast, from very cheap to very expensive. Don’t even think about Macs – this is a PC world.

I’ve been whining about the internet access and connection speeds lately. All true, but…, that’s the challenge. At the end of the day it is working, not as well as I’d like but working. In an ideal world, I’d get back to the Hotel, they would have a fast wireless connection. Skypes would be clear, Gotomypc would be as fast as lighting, and a barista would bring me coffee and a snack or depending on the hour a scotch.

I’ve been running around looking for someplace to work. So what, a pedi-cab took me 10 miles the other day and the price was less than $2. And everywhere I go I see something new. I beginning to learn how to adapt, and change how I use the internet to communicate while I am traveling in the developing world. So the next time you think I’m whining send me a note telling me to stick it in my ear.

Travel Chronicle

2-6-2007 Took cab to LV. Pasad Eye Institute, meet with Dr. Rao, Chairman of Institute. Spent morning touring facility; worked on internet in Faculty lounge until a PhD student from Melbourne University, had a long conversation about low-vision – her dissertation.

Driver takes me to American Express office. Office changed, I can not buy rupees here with American Express card, they suggest HCBS Bank or ICICI Bank.

LVPEI Driver takes me to LVPEI School of Optometry and LVPEI International Center for Advancement of Rural Eye Care (ICARE).

Return to LVPEI in Banjara Hills, thanked everyone. LVPEI driver took me back to my Hotel.

Went to bed I didn't brother with dinner.

Will I Ever Get To Secunderabad?

Not yet anyway. I’ve just read over my entries and I think they seem a bit disjointed. They talk about moments, but they do not chronicle the trip. I will correct. I’m going to divide my entries into the following g selection:

Travel Chronicle: This section will give the day’s events and travel. I’ll keep it short.

Journal Posts: This section will be a continuation of the way I’ve been writing to date.

Memory Notes: This section will be short bits on impressions, short thought. I did this in the January 28^th Post.

Let’s start by attempting to reconstruct the travel itinerary:

January 23, 2007: 4:55 PM; Depart Wash. DC

Trip Begins, Flew out of Dulles International to Charles de Gaulle International in Paris

January 24, 2007: 6:20 AM; Arrive Paris

After a 4 hour layover flew from Paris to New Delhi. The flight was delayed for two hours at de Gaulle by snow. Four hour layover after custom becomes and boarding about an hour and half of checking email.

January 25^th, 2007: 12:46 AM; Arrive

I arrived in Delhi early in the morning, about one. Tourist Office found me a Hotel and arranged for a taxis to the Hotel Red Castle in Channa Market, a section of the Karol Bagh neighborhood. In the morning I changed to a cheaper and better Singh Sons Hotel with internet service. I called Vipin Agrawal of Deepak Industries. I took a cab to his Office in the OKHLA Industrial Area Phase I. He had his driver return me to my Hotel, and swing by the --------.

January 26^th 2007 Republic Day – National Holiday in India. All business shut down. Metros working, Center of City closed for parades. Go in search of American Express Bank At Connaught Place. End up in Paharganj. Spend about five hours wandering. Go to Travel Agents and make deposit on Hotel

January 27^th, 2007 Go to American Express Bank in Connaught Place by taxi. Return by Metro and bicycle rickshaw. Work on internet from Hotel room. Picked-up by Deepak driver and Dr. Deepak Agrawal (The father) go to Deepak offices at Okhla Industrial Area Phase I. Tour assemble area in basement, review microscope. Go to Noida Free Trade Zone to view Deepak’s consumable warehouse and packaging operation. Go to Surajpur to Deepak metal fabricating plant. Return to City, Greenpark neighborhood, spend time in Vipin home. Vipin and I go out to dinner in Greenpark to a Pizza Hut. Driver returns me to Hotel. Go to Travel agents to make payment on Hotel.

I canuary 28, 2007 Hotel informs me I have to leave, no room, Joshi calls says there are not flights to Jodhpur. I call travel agents to have them find me a room. Joshi calls and tells me to get to airport flight arranged. Get cab to Domestic airport, no reservation, but ticket available. Purchase ticket, go to lounge to call Joshi, not phone. Write for about twenty minutes. Find phone call Joshi, he tells me there is a ticket and that it has been paid for, he give reservation numbers, return to Jet Air, they find reservation, it is under Mr. Bill, get refund minus 500 rupee refund fee (about $10), go through personal security, they find leatherman in daypack, confiscate it. Hear announcement on speaking telling me to get my butt to the gate, get to gate, they send a bus back from the plane for me. Plane is a dual prop. Pleasant flight to Jodhpur, arrive get reprimanded by airport security – the military for attempting to take photo of plane on tarmac. Claim luggage, Joshi has driver waiting for me. Driver takes me to Lions Reception, no time to change on even find and put on pin. Eat and given award by regional president. They will fill out visit form and have trophy engraved.

Go to Joshi’s office/home. Meet family, have a coke. Go to factory, then in search of Hotel – two hour process - wedding and tourist season, very difficult. Finally find one, unload. Try and get fixed up with a pre-paid phone for communications in India – doesn’t work. Unpack and relax for a few hours; have coke and talk to the owner at a courtyard table. Long day, read and crash.

January 29^th, 2007 I decide to stay until 31^st. Recover and get room organized, Joshi asked me to call when I got up. I didn’t want to call early, so I went exploring. Take photos, find a crafts/antiques distributor. Spend about an hour there, bought gifts and small sitar for the boys. The store drives me back to hotel, running late. When I get back I try to call Joshi. Hotel only has incoming call service. They tell me to go to private club down the street – they will let me use phone. Reluctantly I go, they are very accommodating, but phone is busy. Not surprised, Joshi lives on his mobile. Return to Hotel, Joshi has called in the mean time, no message. Wait, back to private club, still busy, back to Hotel. Finally Joshi calls and I am there. He sends a driver to pick me up. He is going to have the driver take me around to different site. I ask to go to his office so that I can work on the internet. Arrive at Joshi’s office; his staff sets me up. Joshi is at factory. I work on internet for a few hours; Joshi arrives we have lunch – his wife makes me a great lunch. The driver takes me to the Fort. We tour the fort for a few hours. Then we head off to the palace. The palace is closing by the time we arrive. Driver returns me to Hotel. Joshi picks me up for dinner; go to City Palace Hotel – roof terrace restaurant. We seem to be waiting, ask Joshi if anyone else is joining us for dinner. He tells me that the owner of the Hotel is hosting the dinner and he is running a little late. Turns out owner is the father of Pooja, and he is the riches man in Jodhpur, a dry port owner. Have a great dinner; drink too much scotch – especially Joshi. Discuss mostly of business, a little of politics. Pooja calls after dinner making sure that I’m ok.

Hyderabad & Secunderabad Continued

I doubt if I will write very long tonight. I have just returned from dinner. Today was a quiet day. I spent most of the day working on the computer. Even though it has been a quiet day, it is one of the better days since I have arrived in Hyderabad. Since I have arrived I have been working on computers with connections very slow – slow to the point of waiting for characters to appear.

As most of my work involves email, and since I am running my office from India, Cyberbad, as Hyderabad is referred to here has been a disappointment. Jodhpur was also a bit of a problem but at least I could work at Joshi’s office for three or four hours a day. In Hyderabad I have been working on the computer about the same time every day but only getting about 45 minutes of work accomplished. No point in drawing this out I finally had the Hotel manager get me into a pedi-cab with the driver instructed to take me to an internet café with a good connection it worked. I ended up working at two different ones. The connection at both was fine, but the first would not allow me to use my stick (flash drive).

Since I’ve been in a foul mood since I arrived I had not been going down to dinner at the Hotel restaurant. I gone to an Indian deli a few doors away and have gotten vegetable cutlets. I have also heard from Nag Rao, the president of the International Association for the Prevention of Blindness. We worked together when I was living in Rochester and he was finishing his training. I will see him tomorrow and get to tour his facility. It is considered one of two model eye care facilities in India – the question is are these models portable to other areas of the world. I have also heard from my contact in Madurai, they are looking forward to my visit, and will make the arrangement for my stay as soon as I get the dates and flights arranged. I am waiting on hearing from my contacts in Pakistan.

Early this morning when I wrote my previous post, I titled it Hyderabad and Secunderabad but never mentioned Secunderabad. That was not an omission, rather just a lack on time. Secunderabad is another city adjacent to Hyderabad. I would probably call it a suburb but I do not think the residents consider it a suburb. The reason Secunderabad was mentioned in the title is that I had dinner there last night. Joshi friend, the one that picked us up at the airport, had invited me to dinner. I was a wonderful meal, great conversation, mostly about business and Indian – US relations. However, as I suspected I have run out of steam so I will pause for the evening.

Hyderabad & Secunderabad

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 café 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.

Cows, Cows, & More Cows

I encountered my first cow in the Paharganj. It was January 26^th; I have just gotten off the Delhi Metro at R.V. Marg. It was my second day in Delhi; I thought I was at Connaught Place. It didn’t seem too out of place; the area had a bit the feel of a county fair – open air market, fruit and vegetable stands, colorful textiles and handicrafts. Of course, it was completely not like a county fair too. No one was wearing a cowboy hat or chewing tobacco. County fairs don’t have filthy children doing tricks for a few rupees for the tourist. They may have over-loaded garbage cans swarming with bees, but not the trash and open sewers of this neighborhood.

It was just a few cows sunning themselves on the side of the street, but that was only the beginning. As I moved through the Pahargani looking for the concentric circles of Connaught Place cows were everywhere, and cows are big. When was the last time you stood next to a cow? It was like walking down Fifth Avenue at rush hour with cows, manure and garbage – oh don’t forget the pedi-cabs, motorized rickshaws, and cars. No sidewalks, just people, cows, and horns. There were white cows, black cows, steers, brown cows and people lovingly dumping pales of what I will call vegetable matter, but it looked like garbage to me, in front of the cows. The place overwhelmed your nostrils.

I decided to explore the alleys off the main street – they were only about 6 feet wide, they were so narrow that the wires and open windows seemed to form a roof, it was dark noisy, crowded. I was sure I’d get lost in the winding maze; but I could always hop into a pedi-cab. A few days later I learned several things, one most pedi-cab drivers do not speak English, are illiterate, and two, I couldn’t pronounce any Indian word of more than two syllables correctly.

I wasn’t in a hurry, it was a national holiday, Republic Day; I had all afternoon to kill; so I just explored. Eventually I came out to a street. While wandering I came across a small courtyard, just as I turned the corner a woman opened the door; at the door was a steer – it must have stool 6’2” I think it came calling. I should have taken a photo, but didn’t. I think the woman was more curious about me than surprised at the steer.

Eventually I immerged at the New Delhi Train Station. The area wasn’t any more crowded than the Paharganj but it was faster and noisier. The way they drove I’d have thought I’d seen several motorized rickshaw tip over by now. I won’t say they are good drivers, they follow no rules, and safety never occurred to them, but they are skilled.

The gas and diesel fumes were more nauseating than the manure and sewers so I retreated back into the side streets of the Paharganj. After a few blocks I was confronted with a herd of cows – there must have been five of them; and they blocked my way. Should I just push on through, making a path as I go? How would they react? I wasn’t afraid of getting hooked (I was reading Hemingway’s ‘A Sun Also Rises’), but it did occur to me that I might get stepped on. I couldn’t turn back. Forward I went, the cows just ignored me, didn’t bat an eye, or turn a head; they didn’t so much as move as they leaned out of the way. Cows don’t have any more sense of personal space than anyone else in India. Bodies, animal or human, rubbing against one another is just a fact of life with a population of over one billion.

Immerging unscathed from the herd I was confronted with the mother of all cows. It wasn’t the biggest or fattest cow I have ever seen but it was the ugliest and dirtiest cow I have ever seen – and there it sat in a sea of garbage. This time I did take a photo.

The cows didn’t so much surprise me as the cows in traffic, not neighborhood traffic but fast traffic. Everyone swerved for the cows, the cows went there own way. People did have much respect for traffic either, but the cows had absolute right of way. Vendors would shoe them away from there stands, but otherwise they ruled.

I didn’t give the culture of cows much thought before I left, but it remains an Indian theme and has a profound effect on life in India

Singh Sons, Karl Bagh

Early Sunday morning, I’ve had my breakfast, the birds are chirping outside my window. Today is up in the air, I am either staying in Delhi for the next few days or I am going to the airport for a flight to Jodhpur in a few hours. I have mixed feeling about leaving Delhi, on the one hand I am starting to get oriented, the internet is working, and there are a few things I would like to see here; on the other hand, the Jodhpur Lions Club has invited me to dinner tonight and I would hate to miss it. If I do not go tonight I will go to Jodhpur after the all India Meeting.

The last two days have been very busy, Friday was a national holiday, Republic Day, so most things were closed. I attempted to go to Connaught Place to find the American Express Bank – I didn’t think it would be opened; I just wanted to find it to see if I could find it. I took the Metro, and got off at the wrong stop. It turned out to be Pahargani – known for it budget hotels, seedy characters, and drugs. I found backpackers, old hippies, slums, and a maze of alleys and markets and people.

By the way, I have finally uploaded some photos to my Yahoo Photo site, I also uploaded a couple of video clips to my YouTube space. The following are the links:

Yahoo photo album Delhi:

http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/billshiellds/album?.dir=3a07scd&.src=ph&store=&prodid=&.done=http%3a//pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/billshiellds/my_photos

You Tube video sites:

Rickshaw Ride:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zYK2WDkqOc4

Karol Bagh Market
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aIjHAiPXhFg

I spent about an hour walking around and taking photos. I met a woman from Alberta, we chatted for a few minutes over a coke. She told me that she was a writer and that she was visiting India after a twenty year absence. She was planning on spending two months here, writing and visiting old friends. As she left she I noticed that her hands were shaking – for some reason it occurred to me that she had a drug problem; I’m not sure why, maybe the setting – it was a small stand, in a back alley that woven between the building, it couldn’t have been more than three feet wide.

The crazy morning continues I am now at the Domestic Airport in Delhi awaiting a Jet Airlines flight to Jodhpur. Joshi called this morning; he said that he could not get me a flight. I called the Hotel to tell them that I was staying for a couple more days. They called back in a few minutes to say that the Hotel was booked for the night. I called the tourist office; they said they would get me a Hotel. Joshi called back in a few minutes to say that he had a flight and that I should go to the airport immediately, my reservation would be waiting; it would be in the name of Bill Shields. He said to call after I got the ticket. I checked out of the Hotel and got a cab to the airport – the ride was about 30 minutes.

At the airport they did not have the reservation but they did have a seat. I got an aisle seat. Apparently I get access to the lounge although I don’t know why – it is an economy flight. My bags are checked, I’ve tipped everyone and there brother, although the amounts were very small. The latest porter took me to the lounge – he actually deserved a tip. No phone here I’ll have a coke then go down about 20 minutes before boarding to go through personal security. I will also look for an Indian SIM card for my cell phone, and call Joshi so that he will have someone meet my flight.

My throat is beginning to feel the effects of the smog. I’d had better pack up.

Memory Notes:

Hair feels strange and dirty after shower, I first thought that I didn’t rinse the soap out of my hair, but after the second shower, I knew it was the rinse, next guess the soap, changed to American soap: I have concluded it’s the water.
After shower today the hair feels better, I think I have to rinse longer here, harder water or something like that.

Photos in Metro, don’t take them – it’s a 500 rupee fine.

Rickshaw: They get commissions from everyone; they will try and take you to stores, Hotels. Be very careful about cost, negotiate up front I wanted to take one from the Karol Bagh Metro Station to my Hotel – he asked 200 rupees, the reasonable price was 10. They get tourist all the time, 200 rupees is about $4.

Air France Paris to Delhi – Bug Stray
Before take-off from Paris the passenger cabin was sprayed with an insecticide, it was mildly nauseating, never saw that before I should research.
Caste System: Deepak Agrawal – the father explained some of the caste system to me yesterday in the car, while we waited for Vipin to make religious pay-offs to the workers at the metal fabricating factory.

Pahargani, Delhi

The last few days have been a blur. Too much of the time has been spent making arrangements, with hotels and internet, and money. When the internet connection is working running my office from here is not much of a problem – just the hour difference. Unfortunately today the connection is dead. It is a few minutes before 8:00 am and the hotel internet engineer will not be in until 10.

Yesterday I set out on a quest for the American Express office, never found it. I took the metro, but got off at the wrong stop. I only realized that I had gotten off at the wrong stop when I got back on the Metro and was studying the map. Anyway, the stop I got off was a large slum / market / backpacker / hippie area.

Hotel Singh Sons, Karol Bagh, Delhi

Well, I’m sated, I just finished dinner, a scotch before dinner, a few beers with dinner, chicken marsala, egg birani, parantha makhani, with Billy Joel on the travel stereo – life is good, or at least it is for those of us that are so fortunate. I’m having the time of my life, yet, for most of the world life is cruel. I don’t want to get into an Irish alcohol rant, so let’s move on. I few years ago I read a column by Tom Freidman whom said that he had the greatest job on earth – he wrote for the New York Times, he could write about anything, he could go anywhere – and they would pay for it. If he wanted to take three or four months off to write a book he could. That’s the way I feel, granted I do not work for the New York Times, I do not write anything that has an audience, and if I do travel I’m expected to stay in cheap hotels and walk whenever possible, but who gives a damn I can write about anything I want. I’m 55, read Lonely Plant travel books, and seeing the world one developing country at a time; I’m lucky pure and simple. I didn’t do anything to justify this gift.

Ok, on to my day. This is my first entry since departure. The first leg of the trip was great, in fact, I’m thinking of writing a short piece tentative titled ‘To Be Served by a Woman with a French Accent.’ Maybe I don’t have to write anything but the title. Paris was interesting, but only because I was there more than thirty years ago. It brought back memories, a few of them of me being a jackass. My first encounter with Paris was at nineteen. I had taken Icelandic Air from New York to Luxembourg - $168 one way trip. From Luxembourg it was a long train ride to Madrid with a train and station change in Paris. A few hours, a cab driver that could have ripped me of for about 50 dollars and didn’t.

My second visit was a trip to Paris and Zurich at the ripe age of twenty- I was on the trail of a Swiss girl, Claudia, unsuccessfully as was my habit at the time. I met a woman on the train to Paris, we were both alone, we decided to join forces – what a disaster. She was young, excited and looking for a friendly familiar American company; I was tired jaded and boorish. She ran like a bat out of hell when I suggested that it would be ok with me if we shared a bed given the room situation in Paris before Easter. I never had the time for ‘platonic’ to pass my lips before she was gone.

So as you can imagine I have strong emotional attachments to Paris. I flew an Air France charter on my way back, but can’t remember a thing.

After a pleasant first leg on my journey, we landed in at some remote corner of Charles de Gaulle. It was six in the morning, de Gaulle was under what seemed like massive construction – it was empty, dark and torn up. The ride seemed like it would never end. We were dropped off at the lobby of terminal A – it reminded me of a holding cell – you know the look yellow ceramic titles, fluorescent lights, and worn floor tile. The clerk only had to let loose with the accent to be charming and friendly.

Finally the gates opened for the morning, a few braved the stairs with their carry-on. I opted for the escalator. I made it to the top immediately encountering a security screening area. Picture this people taking their shoes off, no way out, computers being pulled out of their bags; and the escalator keeps rolling on. Only one person ended up on the ground before someone reached the emergency stop button. As luck would have it I was strip searched, no, really the only thing striped searched was my backpack. I had meticulously prepared – I knew what was in every pocket, and every pocket had an exquisite logic; all destroyed by an agent of the French government.

Speaking of French government, how many of you have heard of the French complaining of how we uncultured Americans are corrupting the purity of the French language, that may be so, at least in the sense of Coke-a-Coca or McDonalds, but the Americans did not ask the French to paint ‘stop’ signs on the tarmac, or request that airport security have; POLICE” on the back of their uniforms – am I sounding a bit Bill O’Reillyish?

Charles de Gaulle is pretty much of a mess. I was not able to find a plug to keep my laptop charged but I was able to get an internet connect – it cost $10 euros for two hours. I needed to get my email – I was expecting an email with my Hotel arrangements in Delhi. I was due to arrive in Delhi around 11 pm and I’m concerned about a Hotel. I was able to handle some work email. I tried to make reservations for a Hotel using Skypes (internet telephone), no luck everything booked. The 26th is Republic Day in India – commemorates the founding of the India Republic in 1950.

Between the bus ride, the delay in opening parts of the airport, the search, and arrangement of the internet connection the 3 plus hour delay over the time disappeared before I knew it. We board the plane as snow began to fall.