Pondicherry

We had Friday the 2nd off for Gandhi's birthday and since it was also my birthday Brad and I went to Pondicherry, a former French colony three hours south of Chennai. We had heard lots of great things about Pondicherry, so we were excited to see it, but I arrived sicker than a dog (sicker even than an Indian street dog. sick!) and so I spent the night either huddled over the toilet or curled up in bed, crying about having the worst birthday ever and planning my escape back to Iowa.
But I woke up the next morning feeling fine, which was a weird but pleasant surprise and we headed out early to make the most of the weekend.
Things started out great. We had breakfast on a balcony overlooking the sea and then went to wish Gandhi a happy birthday and look at some sand art sculpted in his honor. Later we wandered around town, enjoying the fact that we could actually walk from place to place, and did some shopping.
As it turns out there isn't a whole lot to do in Pondicherry besides shop and eat, but Pondicherry is not dry and we were looking forward to the novelty of ordering a beer at any old restaurant, not just a hotel bar. So when we sat down for what was to be the first in a series of leisurely vacation-weekend drinks we were devastated by the news that the entire COUNTRY was not selling alcohol for the entire DAY!
I have to admit it took us a while to get over this disappointment. A nap, at least, helped, a little.
Later we went the opposite direction out of our hotel and saw a cheerful sight: an elephant! This elephant, who I will call Rosie, stands outside of a temple and gives you a blessing on the head when you give her food. It was awesome. I went twice.
Then, we got another excellent surprise when I casually flipped my Pondicherry pocket guide to the pharmacy section and saw this entry:
Sun Pharmacy 88 Chetty Sreet
Now, most of you probably know this, but for those of you who don't: My parents, Steve and Deb Straw, have owned and operated their own pharmacy, Sun Pharmacy, for over 25 years in Johnston, Iowa. So, upon reading that little entry we hopped a rickshaw straight to Chetty Street. I thought for sure the people inside would be thrilled to hear my story, but they only just tolerated me taking pictures.
Those two bright spots were topped off with an excellent, but wine-free steak dinner. It was painful, truly, to read the French wine selection on the menu. And no, I'm not above bribery. It didn't work.
We headed back home on Saturday so we could get some things done around the house and just be lazy, but before we left town I felt justified in buying myself a really nice birthday present to make up for the miserableness of the actual day. Brad also found something he liked. I think now that we might have been experiencing joint-temporary insanity over Indian antique furniture, because we just paid our bill and believed the man when he said he'd deliver it to us by Friday. I'm coming to my senses now and feeling slightly anxious, so keep your fingers crossed that our new/old table and hutch arrive sometime within the next three months.














I took this picture, trying to show the bangles on her feet and then this family asked me to take their picture too :)





It actually kind of reminds me of the old store!

Yes, I know it looks like he's giving us the finger, but we think, hope that he's just holding the doors shut and that this is not some secret "f-you, you're never going to see this furniture again" kind of message.

what up Mumbai?

I'm going to Mumbai (Bombay) tomorrow with the swim team. There, we'll compete against schools from India, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka and Pakistan. It's going to be a busy weekend. I'm half excited, half dreading it. I'll be staying with a host family, so that's bound to be interesting. I'll be back on Monday.

Life in India

So a while ago I was skype-talking to the family and my brother, Adam, says, "It sounds to me like your experience in India is kind of manic. Like one day you're happy and everthing's fine and the next day everything's crap." Adam's only mostly right. These changes happen by the minute. But I don't hate it here, even tough I've found myself on several occasions shaking my fist in a semi-circle and shouting, "Damn you India!!! Damn you to hell!!!" I don't mean it. And it doesn't matter anyway, Hindus don't believe in hell.
I know I've already talked about it a lot, but it's hard to explain, these mixed feelings, these highs and lows....here's the deal:
Life here is not easy or comfortable. It's dirty and stinky and hot. And there's always some problem; and if we're not currently experiencing a problem, we know there's one lurking, just around the corner.
And then there's the fact that I feel like a huge jerk for even thinking that my life is uncomfortable. All I have to do is look two inches in front of my face and see that everyone else around me is worse off. And this stinks too. Just the other day we were on our way to school and I see, from a distance that the road construction has caused a water pipe to break and a huge jet of water is spraying all over the place. And then we get closer and I see that this huge jet of water is spraying right onto this guy's house, and by house I mean a tarp held up with sticks. And the guy, the owner, is just sitting there, watching everything he owns get destroyed, because what else can he do? And you know, that's his LIFE. That's his every day!
Ok, and my worst day of the week is Wednesday because that's our driver's day off and so we ride a rickshaw to and from school. And on these days I feel so, so grateful for our car because riding a rickshaw is SICK. Gah, I just feel so diseased after sitting in one of those things. They're completely open to all the elements: smells, sights, sounds....you could, at any given moment on a rickshaw, reach out and touch a bus, or a person, or a cow. And it's scary on a rickshaw. I subconsciously hold my breath and squeeze my eyes shut for almost the entire ride. But then you consider that this is basically luxury travel because on the buses that are bearing down on us there are maybe 80 people crammed inside or hanging out the door, and everyone is obviously hot and sweaty and covered in grime, and the ones who are lucky enough to have a seat are pressed up against the wide open windows, so much so that you can see the dents in their skin. And again, that's their life. They ride the bus every day. And here's me, griping about a rickshaw.
So, you see it's already a great big contradiction.
And then there's the times when I almost, really truly like India. Or at least find it amusing. Like these chicken motorcycles I see everywhere. People strap a cage full of live chickens to the back of a motorcycle and haul them off to who knows where and the chickens just bounce around on the road like it's no big deal. They don't flap around or anything. They just sit there, enjoying the sensation of the wind through their feathers.
And the colors here are so bright. You see a filthy-ass street with people walking around on it in gorgeous pinks and greens and yellows. Even the trucks here have pretty colors and decorations (I know this because I've been able to closely examine them from the vantage point of a rickshaw). And women always have flowers in their hair. And little girls wear bangles around their ankles.
And the people are friendly. Except the woman who I think might be a man that tried to spit on me but missed, almost every other person in the neighborhood smiles when they see us.
The food is good too, but that goes without saying. Indian food is flavorful in the truest sense of the word.
And sometimes, when I'm riding home at night and the sun is setting, I can see the outline of mosques and temples on the road ahead, and I realize that I'm halfway around the world in a place I never thought I'd be. And that I might as well just sit back and enjoy the sensation of the wind through my feathers.

typical

In keeping with our Indian experience as a whole, this weekend has gone from good to bad and back to good again. Dammit!! Just as I was writing that sentence I got a huge shock from the computer. Alright, now we're back to bad.
It all started, as most weekends do, on Friday night. Brad and I were very proud of ourselves because we actually left the house. We have natural homebody tendencies, which, in India, are only made worse by the fact that getting anywhere is a huge pain in the rear. But I very cleverly tricked us into going out by purchasing tickets for an event in advance, so that when Friday night rolled around and the temptation to just get into our pjs and open a bottle of wine while waiting for a pizza to be delivered got too strong we had the fact that we'd already spent 20 bucks pulling us out the door. The event was a party for the Chennai cricket team. Their coach, a Kiwi, is married to the middle school art teacher, also a Kiwi. It was held at a bar in a hotel (hotels are the only places here that are allowed to have bars) and there was a pretty good turnout, of men. It was weird, except for women from the school, and there were maybe only 7 of us, everyone else was male. But there was dance music and the party was lively until the management decided that the men were dancing too "vigorously" and switched to soft rock.
It was an ok night out that made us miss Colombia. A lot. But we weren't feeling too bad because we had massage appointments for Saturday morning. There is a Thai spa here, a little ways out of town in yet another hotel, that is so nice. We've been there three times already. It's just a perfect oasis from all the city crap. It's quiet, and smells lovely. There are steam rooms and a pool and, of course, amazing massages, and it's a great way to spend the afternoon. Afterward we went to a late lunch at Lydie's, had some great steaks and an even better dessert, and then went home to relax, the only thing left to do, since it'd started to rain.
We had a full, maybe five hours of enjoying life in India and then the air conditioner started making a grinding noise and I saw sparks out the window. In a few seconds everything was black. The power stayed out the entire night and well into the morning. I entertained myself this morning by throwing out everything in the freezer and then reading under the one working ceiling fan that is run by the generator. Eventually, we had to leave, we called our driver and had him take us somewhere, anywhere where it was cool and there was food to eat.
As we pulled out of our driveway we saw a man with a handsaw getting to work on the electricity situation. He was just squatting there, examining two severed cables. We didn't have much hope that we'd ever have electricity again, but we had a good lunch and I bought some pashminas, and really, what else can cheer you up like a pashmina? So soft, so luxurious, even the name is soothing....
Pulling up to the house again we saw that the two severed cords are now taped together, with a little plastic buffer. And when we came in to the sound of the air conditioners purring, we rejoiced. And that's when I sat down to write this blog and got shocked by the computer. Brad just reported that a switch downstairs shocked him, and when he tried to adjust the current on our big electric box he came upstairs rubbing his arm and saying, "Electricity is scary."
It sure is.

What Works with Americans

We get At a Glance: India's only cultural magazine for expats, in our mailboxes at school once a month. This morning I opened it right up to "What Works with Americans" and had a good chuckle.

Here's my favorite excerpt:

SAY "NO"
Americans don't understand indirect communicators: If you can't do something you simply have to use the word 'no' in the sentence. No other nicety will drive home the point.
For example:
Bob: "Are we still on schedule?"
Nitin: "Oh yes, we are working very hard on it."
Bob: "Great, my teams are excited to see the finished product."
If you think you didn't really commit because you indicated that the project was running late with the phrase "we are working very hard," then you are wrong. The American heard the "Oh yes" and not the "no" and presumes it will be given on time. When you don't deliver, there will be fireworks!

la casa, por fin

welcome
our car
I love our cabinets, but they're a little bare
toaster, coffee maker, tea kettle, microwave=4x the number of appliances we had in our former home

for some reason the fridge always goes in the dining room here






not sure who these people are

master bedroom


first Indian artwork
hot shower creator!

we had to buy trays for the countertop since there was almost no storage in the bathroom, expect down below, which started to hurt our backs
guest bedroom (could be yours!)
scary guest bathroom (we'll let you use ours)
soon, we will get a TV
our new couches, upstairs


rooftop pictures coming soon. Brad is just finishing his project...