Then there were four

We went to get Jona from the airport last night. This time I brought a camera and took a couple snaps. The place was mobbed by US standards, but not that bad compared to the other night when I got Mike. Still left the place with my shirt soaked through, though.
One of the the places you see the emphasis on family is here at the airport. Whole families come to pick people up. There were a number of older, frail women that would have stayed home at midnight in the US. My heart went out to them in the heat and congestion at the late hour.

We stood next to these girls, their mother and theirt grandmother. I assume the men were someplace, too, but I didn't see them. The grandmother had a white burka-style outfit but I don't think she was Muslim. It must have been hot and like us, they waited for hours.

She sat on the floor most of the time while the girls amused themselves on the luggage carrier. At one point, they all got up to rearrange themselves. One of the girls went to sit down on the luggage thing and Granny deftly swung it aside at the last minute, dumping the girl on her butt. I'm not 100% sure she intended it, but I like to think austere Granny in the shawl was up for playing a late-night prank.

Good news is that Jona got in fine and we are getting ready to get down to the meat of the business.

Bad news is that the Dehli Belly is going around. I'm on the anti-bacterial, but only a day into the three-day protocol. Can't say I'm very psyched about lunch. The place in the hotel we usually eat at isn't that great, but not for the reasons you'd expect. It's actually too bland. I prefer the Indian restaurant in the hotel, but in my current state I want to avoid the spicy. Hopefully it turns out tomorrow.

Palm Leaves and Palm Designs

Today we went to DakshinaChitra, which is artist's village about 45 minutes out of town.

See the scoop at http://www.dakshinachitra.net/

The idea is there are traditional arts and crafts, dancing, and recreations of old-style living from different parts of India. It was interesting and fun, but at first I thought we had driven there for just the usual hard sell. Lots of friendly vendors with many wares. But the first thing we saw I liked. It was traditional palm leaf art. They dry the palm leaves and cut them into rectangular strips. The strips are strung together like blinds. But first they are decorated.

The shot above shows one of the steps. They sketch in the design and then cut it into the palm with a thin, precise knife; like an Xacto.

Then the wash it with an ink. The ink goes in the cut like a tattoo and washes off the slick surface of the palm. He was describing this as he did it, carelessly sketching in some swirls. When he washed off the ink, a delicate, swan with perfect lines appearred.

But the kicker was that the art also has these circular doors built into it. You flip them open like advent calendars and the picture changes. Each one flips both ways, so you get three pictures in all. Good morning, good afternoon and good evening he quiped as he flipped them over.

Themactically, the art has a slick, linear quality that reminds me of Japanese prints. Of course most of the work is around religious themes and stories. Krishna was a popular subject, and his pieces often had little couples inside the little windows, all Karma Sutra style. You know I bought one of those.

I also picked up a painting on silk of a bird from a different vendor. Very fine detail and line work.

And speaking of ink sublimation and line work; along the way we encountered an old woman doing mendhi. Val had wanted to get some of this henna art and signed up right away.

The process seemed effortless to the woman, who spoke very little English. She just looped her brush and the perfectly-even chocolatey lines flowed into an intricate pattern.

It took probably five minutes and cost about a dollar. After a half hour or so, Val washed off the henna and revealed a surprisingly-orange pattern. It should last a few weeks.
The woman was gracious and amused and probably the highlight of the morning.

Afterwards, in a theme that is becoming popular, we went back to the hotel to bum around the pool. After a while of doing nothing, a movie crew suddenly showed up and started filming a scene of a couple talking near the pool. We couldn't understand it; something to do with treasure? When the exited on camera, they walked by us, so I gave them the thumbs up. There was no re-take so look for me in a scene from something called E Action from Kollywood sometime soon! Yes! Art and theater all around me!

Picking up Mike

I went to get Mikey at the airport tonight.
His flight arrived at 11:30, so the driver suggested we leave around 10:30 as it could take 45 minutes to get to the airport. Well, it took 30 minutes, so I got there around 11pm. Let me just tell you; I’m used to it now so I didn’t think much of it , but that was some of the most congested traffic I’d ever seen. But it all flowed and I hopped out of the car into the steamy foreign air.
I picked my way through the throng of people to locate arrivals. Here’s the set up. You aren’t allowed to enter the airport without a ticket. So they set up a gate aside the long building where people exit and the crowds pile in four deep all the way along it waiting for their friends and family. This is a line four to six deep and easily 100 yards
It was quite a scene and I wish I had brought my camera. One gentleman I saw talking on his cell had a thumbnail easily two inches long. There was a young Sikh who had had some serious eye injury recently. Blood oozed out the sides of his puffy bandage. I stood near a family where they had “uglied” their daughter. This is a thing where the parents do to protect a child from the evil eye. The idea is that beauty attracts envy and thus evil magic. So, they cut a girl’s hair short and give her big, fake moles and black spots on the face. It’s startling to see, as it has the desired effect; the child is not pretty.
So I stood there for about two hours in the throng. I hadn’t eaten and in the heat I got woozy. Groups of young men would gather around me, gawking and joking with each other, and eventually peel off. I get open stares a lot, even at work. It happened on the first trip, too. You get used to it and I had kind of forgotten about it. But in the human sauna that was the Chennai airport, the last thing I wanted was four extra people in my space. Maybe I should make that clear, too. When I said people were four deep, I meant that there were four people in about five feet of space. People are close and think nothing of squeezing into inhumanly tight spaces. They just sidle in until they are a hair’s breadth from you. Somehow, though the mild vibe makes it more bearable. Like, in the States if people were that close the crowd might take a aggravated, dangerous mood. I’ve been shoved in bars for accidentally being that close to people before. Here people accept it and feel no malice because they don’t have the same sense of personal space.
At the time, I was tired and just wanted it to be over, but it was a pretty interesting experience. And I have to do it again Sunday. Maybe this time I’ll remember a camera.

Le Meridian

This strange device, dear readers, is the Master Control Unit for my hotel room. Want some light by the bar? Push a button. Want the room a little cooler? Push a button. Want some light over by the desk? Push a button and then have it not work, call the front desk, have them come change the lamp and then jiggle the handle and have it work for a little bit and then not work again and give up on it. Want the teevee on? Well, there's no button on the Master Control, but that doesn't work either.

I'm not really upset by that. I pretty much dont have time for television and there isn't anything on anyway. But it does give you a little flavor of our situation. The power goes out several times a day. Even at the office we have internet in one room and international phone in the other: not both. Little things slow us down all the time.

But the lobby is palatial. The ceiling is a two story tall dome with illuminated stars. There is a great view of palm trees and the pool in the back. It's nice, but as I write this the bellman is delivering my pressed clothes. Why didn't I iron my own clothes? Because I'm a fancy gentleman too good for manual labor? Well, kinda, but really it's because after repeated requests, they still can't locate an iron and an ironing board for me. The front desk guy smiles and tells you each time that yes, they will bring one up to you post-haste, but then the dude shows up and so sorry, the iron that was promised cannot be located. They are probably charging me for the pressing.
Ah, well. Got to go. My driver is here. So fancy!

New Jersey with a Breeze

Today our routine started. It was the first day on the job. So, the first time commuting to the job site, first interaction with our counterparts and all that. It was hard not to make comparisons between this trip and the previous one. And Chennai fared poorly in the comparison.

In previous posts, I described Bangalore as 1970's New York meets dusty cowtown. If you follow this metaphore, Chennai is more like a New Jersey. Bangalore has a buzz, a sense that things are going places and will be alright. You could walk to shopping and fine dining easily. Chennai doesn't give you that vibe. It has a little more menace, a little more desperation. A major landmark on the commute is the gigantic landfill. And it doesn't help that our hotel is out by the airport, so nothing is close by.

Now in fairness, we really have only driven around four or five hours in the city, so it's hard to tell. I have hopes that I can find fun and adventure in sunny Chennai, but perhaps it's more the base of opperations than a source of adventure.

To complete the comparison, the vendor this time is very different as well. In the previous engagement we were in a smallish office building worling with a staff of a dozen or so. This time the complex is sprawling and labyrnthyine. There are two security checkpoints to get to the bathroom. Even the staff got lost leading us to the lunchroom. When we arrived it took six or eight security guys to get us checked in, log our laptops and check us for thumb drives and such.

Good news though is that the staff are very bright and we know and like many of them. Good news also that the weather has been milder than expected. It's still a steamy sauna, but it's been tempered by a cool breeze here and there. So, New Jersey with a breeze. That's not so bad.

Saint Thomas and the Fishes

We got up this morning and decided to see the city. So after breakfast we went to the travel desk and arranged for one of the packaged tours. Our driver turned out to be the one who had picked us up in the airport, a jovial sort named Namril.
He started the tour by confiding that he was a Christian and asked if we were, too. Sure, we're Christians, why do you ask? Ah, because Chennai boasts several unique Christian elements and here we go with those items now. Chennai is the location of the martrydom of St Thomas, who came to India in 52AD. We saw a number of relics involved related to this, including the spear that killed him and a cross that bleeds his blood. Mmm hmm.
So, the first stop is a church on the hill where Thomas had his missionary in life. It's on a hill near the hotel that boasts a commanding view of the surrounding country. Getting there we drove through some poor areas and at one point had to get out of the car to shoo some lazy goats out of the road. The church itself was very small inside, barely more than the size of a large conference room. And plain. You could picture a poor, roaming priest setting up shop there. Now, the outside of the church was a different story with a gold Jesus crucifix, and creepy life size statues of Pope John Paul and Mother Theresa. Halfway down the hill there was also a giant Jesus sculpture of him praying under a tree. It reminded me of Buddah a bit, the way he was being shaded. Oh, and the story is when the martyred him they speared him in the back of the head as he prayed, he got some blood on the cross he was praying in front of and later they found that the cross weeped his blood so they have an annual dealie about that. We also saw a bit of his skull fragment later, but that's a different church.

Ok, so. Next it's off to a snake park. We weren't very excited about that, but we put ourselves in our guide's hands and went. It was pretty shabby and small. You couldnt see most of the snakes and they were just in these very basic terrariums. There were some crocs there, too and they were more interesting because you could see them, but in the heat they just sat there looking so much like statues.
Deeper into the city we go; next to a historic temple where we hooked up with a creepy temple guide. He had rotten teeth and lightning bolts shaved into his head. This would have been fine if he didn't browbeat us for bigger and bigger donations for the temple and his "services" which mostly consisted of asking us where we were from and gesturing to the temple. We couldn't go in so it was a quick stop. The wrinkle here is that the temple overlooked a large, fenced in pool of algae-green water. In the center was a small island with another temple where they keep some ceremonial lamp lit. The pool is populated with thousands of catfish that swarm like sharks in a feeding frenzy whenever anyone tosses any food in the water.
From there we saw the Basillica of St Thomas. This is a Western-style church which has the distinction of being one of only three churches built on the tomb of an apostle. Being Sunday, church was in session. Our guide ushered us in and encouraged us to take photos in the middle of the ceremony. This seemed bad to us, but I took a few quick snaps anyway. Then we went down below and saw the actual tomb, where another mass was in session. Again, we marched down the center aisle with our guide, watched the service for a bit and sauntered out. No pictures this time, not allowed. Of course there was a St Thomas museum too, where we saw the skull fragment and the spear that killed the doubting apostle.
Next was the highlight of the tour for me: the fish market. Chennai is in the beach and the local catch is sold in a shanty-style market by the wives of the fishermen. This was down and dirty India. The sounds and smells of the market were intense. To Western sensibility, the hygiene level was a concern as the sun was warming up the day pretty well and there was no refrigeration anywhere. The flies were everywhere.
It was also interesting to see the makeshift houses the fishermen and their families lived in on the opposite side of the street. The area was hit by the tsunami and you could see areas that were just wiped out. The people just did what the could and kept on. Their boats were the large, open affairs that you see everywhere in local fishermen. But you got the whole thing; they live here, they fish there from those boats, and relax under that tent while the wives sell the fish on turned-over boxes there.
At this point the blog gets boring I'm afraid: we went back to the hotel, sat by the pool, counted our blessings ate a tasty buffet and slept most of the afternoon.

Coming to Chennai

All right, bloginistas: here we go again. I’m back in India and ready for adventure. Getting here was as close to a breeze as flying 9,000 miles can be. Got into Philly, hooked up with my colleague, and buzzed off to Frankfort.
We fly Lufthansa this time. It’s a German airline, so the button for “flush” on the plane’s toilet says “Splorgee” or something like that. I found this amusing. Here is a fun habit our German flight crew had: They come up to you and ask you something in German. You blink stupidly back at them so they repeat it in English. Then they come back and do it again. And again. They must have fed and pampered us 150 times in six hours and each encounter was started with a phrase in German and then a sly smile. As if to say “Oh, ja ja: you still haven’t learned German since the last time I came undt offered you a hot towel, now I must say it again in baby talk English because you are so stupid and lazy that you only know one language.”
Or maybe I’m reading a little into that.
In Frankfurt we had a confusing layover (why go through security when you get off the plane?) and enjoyed a very German breakfast of mixed sausages, potato salad and sauerkraut. Then it’s back on another plane with a friendlier crew- including a nice woman who I’m pretty sure was named Brunehilda- and then a mere nine hours later, here we are.
First impressions at midnight? The place is steamy. The bad heat has passed, but it was still sweaty in the middle of the night. The hotel looks swanky in the lobby, but the rooms are kind of meh. The lights in the rooms are on some kind of weird switchboard and you need your room key to get light and AC. I’m sure I’ll figure it out.
Meanwhile, it’s six am and I’m starving.
First impressions at 8am? The place is steamy. We took a walk down the road to get the lay of the land and I was moisty after 200 yards. There isn’t much around the hotel. It was a dusty road to nowhere.