Sunday, July 26th, 2009 - A Foreigner in Chandrapur!

Note - To those that have asked, there will be pictures of the family posted soon. I was able to get them in time for the Meeting the Family post where they ideally belonged.

I awoke at 5am to find rays of sunlight dancing across my face. I groaned and wondered why the sun had to rise so early. My attempt to sleep a few more hours failed miserably. I dragged myself out of bed to find Vinay and his mother puttering around the kitchen. Vinay’s mother brewed coffee while Vinay reheated leftovers for breakfast.

Today is Sunday and Mass is in 3 hours. Before we get ready to go, Vinay decided to wash some of our clothes. I am ecstatic to learn how this process is accomplished.

A washing machine is considered a luxury item here and a dryer is unheard of. The high heat will quickly evaporate all traces of water. Vinay purchased his mother a washing machine some time ago, but it is still different from washing machines in the United States. Vinay’s washing machine sits on a small balcony outside the bedroom where Janet and I sleep. Here it is:

Only one small load can be washed at a time. Once the clothes are put in, a hose is run from the bathroom faucet to an opening on the washing machine. Plumbing is limited in Chandrapur and one must be very careful to only pour enough water to cover the garments. The hose is then disconnected and the water shut off. Dry soap is dumped in the water and the spin cycle started with the turn of a knob. Once the load is done, the water must be drained from the machine by switching a different knob; it is does not automatically happen. There is actually a knob labeled “Drain”. Clothes are then removed and placed in a small opening next to the washing bin. Here, the clothes are spun to take out all excess water – no heat is involved. The clothes are finally turned inside out, to avoid any sun bleaching, and hung over a wire to dry. Within minutes all moisture will dissipate. Yet, even once the garments are dry, they do not smell like the clean clothes I am used to. They smell like the sweat and streets of Chandrapur.

I miss Bounce dryer sheets already.

It is interesting to note that even with the modern washing machine added, Vinay's mother and her maids prefer to wash clothes with a bucket of water and a scrub brush on a stone. Vinay shared with me that in his absent, the washing machine is not really utilized. I have posted this picture in a previous post, but I am sharing it again as a reminder. On top of the tall stone next to the blue basket is where the garments are washed:

And here is one of the maids actually washing the clothes. She has told the family that she considers it an honor to handwash the clothes instead of using the washing machine:Once the clothes were drying, we prepared to leave for church. We walked to the end of the street and hailed a ride in one of these contraptions:
This was my first experience in an auto rickshaw. It is basically the taxi cab of India, at least in the southern region, except unlike taxis in America; you must haggle with the driver about the price for his service. The average cost to haggle for in town is around 10-30 Rs. (rupees). This translates to about $.20-$.60 in US dollars. The auto rickshaw is cramped, dirty, and very rough to ride in, but a very exciting for a foreigner.

St. Thomas Catholic Church is a very small church and I observed many people congregated outside as the auto rickshaw pulled up to the gate. Here are a few pictures of the church from the outside.

We arrived a few minutes late. However, Nita ushered me to take off my shoes and walk inside the church with her while Vinay elected to stand outside. I entered the church to find men and women separated from each other. Women were seated on the floor on the right while men on the left. Chairs were absent. Here is a view of the altar and the church from the inside.
I fell to the floor with Nita. Most of the women sat with their knees tucked under to the right so I deftly followed suit. I appeared to be the only woman with an uncovered head. The mass was in Hindi, so I tried to follow along the best I could. I picked up a few words here and there, but mostly I just observed, unaware of what was being said. It is a comfort to me that no matter where I travel, I can always find a Catholic Mass is almost universal in format. Therefore, no matter what language the Mass is being prayed in, I have a general idea about what is happening. One significant difference between Mass said in the US and Mass said in Chandrapur is that the altar boy recited many of the prayers I usually know to be reserved for the priest.

Once Mass ended, Vinay and Nita whisked me from person to person for introductions. We chatted for a while and then hailed another auto rickshaw to return us home.

Many people came over to visit today. I met his father’s brother and their family, and several friends considered family members.

After lunch, we traveled by motor bike to his best friend’s business to access the internet. Motor bike traveling was actually quite fun. It is just like riding a motorcycle at home, but I felt safer than inside a car. It seems that a person is able to maneuver much more quickly and distances are easier to judge. I will post a picture of the bike soon. His father actually gave it to one of Vinay’s friends, but Vinay keeps it for his use while he is in town.

Most women, if a man is driving, will traditionally ride perpendicular to the bike. It is not common for a woman to ride facing the front of the bike with her arms around the man as is generally viewed in the US. The practical reason for this is that women wearing the traditional Indian sari, were physically unable to sit facing the front. However, I am too frightened to ride this way, and Vinay feels that it is a safety hazard and should be outlawed, so we agree to throw social mores out the window. Of course, our rebellion draws many stares and finger pointing.

We arrive at his friend’s place of business and spend several hours browsing the internet and I added several entries to my blog. We then return home.

Tonight, we are supposed to visit many family members. The term family is used much more reverently and broadly here. Family might not be just biological members; it might also include those who have shown faithful loyalty and generosity to a biological member. Visiting people here is quite a ritual. There are many sets of rules that must be followed. You must take off your shoes before entering anyone else’s home. You must accept a drink and something to eat each time, whether you want to or not. You must visit everyone you know when you travel home for a visit, and you must visit that person’s actual home, even if you saw them earlier that day at church or at someone else’s home.

A friend of the family agreed to drive us to the homes requiring a visit. As Nita, Vinay, and I piled into the car, it was then I learned that men are supposed to ride in the front seat and women in the back. A woman never drives in Chandrapur if a man is with her. Only if she is traveling with another woman or by herself can she take the wheel. While I am not surprised, this does bother me somewhat.

The longer I am here, the more I learn that men and women’s roles in Chandrapur are clearly and rigidly defined. Everything I observe tells me that a man and a woman must fulfill these roles and not deviate from them. The right of women to assert herself as anything outside of this role is not well known in Chandrapur. Vinay’s family appears to be one of the few more open families. For example, it is very much taboo for an Indian man to bring home a Caucasian girl, especially if you are from a small town like Chandrapur and especially if you are not yet married. I asked Vinay why his mother was okay with me, when most Indian mothers from this city would not be, he said he wasn’t sure but that his mother just told him to find someone that would make him happy.

The friend of the family drove us to three different homes. We only stayed for about 15 minutes each, but each house visit is very long for me. Malayalam is prevalently spoken; I am never quite sure what is being discussed. I was to later learn that most Chandrapurons are afraid to speak English in my presence for fear of making a grammatical or pronunciation error. During each visit, two minutes or so after arrival, the hostess inevitably asks if we would like something to eat. I discovered that the answer is irrelevant. Food and drinks will be served. If a guest does not partake, it is considered highly rude. We ate and chatted our way through three different homes before returning to our place of residence.

That evening, my stomach began to hurt. I was afraid it might be some of the Indian spices, so I told Vinay I did not wish to eat any dinner, just in case. He took me on the motor bike to an ice cream parlor. It was quite nice and the ice cream was delicious. I asked Vinay if we could come here every day to eat ice cream and sit beneath one of the rare air conditioners. He smiled and nodded, “Of course!”

By the end of day, I felt so dirty. In fact, from the moment I stepped out of bed I felt dirty. Except for a few homes, I have yet to witness much of the United States standards of cleanliness in Chandrapur. I am positive that most homes and businesses would be condemned and abolished if found in the US in the exact same conditions. It is probable that most citizens consider their town to be clean. However, from the moment I wake up in the morning and windows are opened, until I lay down in bed, I can smell nothing but a mixture of dust, waste, and various other toxic fumes. The air is so thick with dirt and pollutants, a knife could slice through it. The high humidity and lack of air conditioning makes it only worse. Not only is there a thin film of dirt following you, but the constant sweat causes the film to perpetually stick to your body. I feel as though I have been camping for days, only there is no fresh air or beautiful scenery to enjoy.

To rid myself of the dirt film, I decided a shower was in order. A shower is an absolute must before sleeping every night. I don’t see much point in taking one in the morning, because I simply start to feel dirty again within a few minutes. Showers are not common in all homes, simply because running water in the home is not prevalent. Most Chandrapurons bathe out of buckets of water. Even Vinay’s mother, despite the fact that there are two showers in her home, feels more comfortable bathing out of a bucket because that is what she is used to. There is no hot water tank in the home; this is also considered a luxury. While a cold shower can be harsh, it can also be refreshing after the hot humidity of the day.

After everyone took their shower, beds were made and eye lids were shut until the following day.

Saturday, July 25, 2009 - Meeting the Family!

This was a very long day.

The first thing immediately noticeable to any foreigner stepping into the Mumbai airport is the temperature. It is very hot and humid. Vinay said that the air conditioning was not working because of the high humidity and that a lack of air conditioning was common. I had been warned by Vinay that I would have the opportunity to experience what a “high humidity” was in India. He wasn’t joking. I had one foot inside the airport and I was sweating profusely.

The second thing immediately noticeable to me was the swarm of human bodies and the random disorganization of the airport. I have previously been informed by Vinay that Americans are very polite when it comes to crowds and lines. Most Americans will willingly allow another person to go first, or wait patiently for their turn. Apparently, this is not the case in India. I have received much instruction in the art of pushing my way through crowds. I have been warned that if I am polite and let others always go first, I will never make it anywhere. The only way to get through the crowds is to push. So I grabbed a hold of Vinay and followed closely behind him while he pushed through the swarm of human bodies.

Vinay had been very nervous about entering India. He had warned me that I could be hindered by a customs official, or verbally attacked, or that I might be forced to bribe my way into the country. I was not to speak to anyone and I was to follow him wherever he went. My expectations clearly in place, he and I were both surprised to pass through airport customs smoothly and quickly. No problems encountered!

After passing through customs, our next task was to find the correct gate for the flight that would take us to Nagpur. The airport at Mumbai, as Vinay explained to me, was not built with any sort of organization. One could not simply walk from one gate terminal to the next. In order to get to our terminal on the other side of the airport, we needed to take a bus. This bus turned out to be a typical bus, much like the University of Oklahoma CART bus. A few minutes later, we were driving by some of the slums of Mumbai, which are located right next to the airport. Vinay pointed out to me that this was where the first part of Slumdog Millionaire was filmed. It was night so I was unable to see the slums very clearly, but they were obviously homes of wretched poverty. Blue tarps were stretched and hung as substitutions for walls on most of the structures within the slums. Litter, debris, and human waste could be seen strewn across hills of dirt very close to the dilapidated structures. Vinay explained to me that the tarp was a slum trademark. Later, as we flew to Nagpur, the blue made it easily to spot the slums from the airplane window.

We continued to drive past the slums until we arrived at a beautiful airport. Vinay reported to me that the airport must have been renovated because he had never seen it this nice. Surprisingly, there was air conditioning. I actually felt the need to put my jacket on. Here are a couple of pictures:







The floors sparkled and everything appeared to be new. Vinay and I spent early hours of the morning waiting at this airport. There was a seven hour layover between our flight that landed us in Mumbai and the flight that took us to Nagpur. I took the time to explore the domestic airport and to write these blog posts. I also drank two excellent café lattes. It was 4:30am when Vinay and I headed to board the plane. Again we went through a security check, and again we had to wait until the plane boarded at 6:15am.

We heard the Nagpur boarding call and walked to another bus that would actually take us to the plane. One could not walk directly from the airport to the airplane here. I was very excited to see that it was not the typical bus that I was used to. It was a bus that I had seen in movies – few seats but plenty of plastic hand grips hanging from the poles stretched along either side of the bus. I have always wanted to stand in a bus and hold onto handles attached to the ceiling! It was in this bus that I suddenly became aware that I was the only white person. I started to receive many stares and whisperings. How is it that a white foreigner girl is holding hands with an Indian? One could read the question and the surprise written over their faces.

The final flight was very short compared to the previous ones. 45 minutes later we were landing in Nagpur. This airport was very small, dingy, and dirty. We quickly found our luggage, and headed for the exit where some of Vinay’s family was to meet us with a car. Niju, his nephew, and his brother-in-law, Ajay, greeted us. They grinned at me and eagerly shook my hand while hellos and laughs were exchanged. I followed them and our luggage outside the airport. Stares from a hundred Indian faces greeted me. Some were holding flowers while they waited for their significant other; others were holding signs with the name of the person they were sent to pick up. We made our way through the crowd to the car.

I was keenly aware that no longer was I in the United States when I entered the car to find the steering wheel on the right side. This fact was made even more apparent as the driver began to maneuver his way through the streets of Nagpur. At every turn I thought I was going to die. There are neither stops signs nor speed limits here, and turn signals are unheard of. How do you let another car know you are there? You honk. You honk loud and profusely. Honking is not rude, it is a necessity here. Trucks even have the words, “BLOW HORN” painted on the back of their vehicles.

Here is the general plan when you drive down the streets of India. Drive on the left side of the street, when you come upon an obstacle in front of you, for example a pedestrian or a motor bike traveling more slowly, simply drive up to the object as closely as possible and honk until they move. If they don’t move, continue to drive only 2 inches away from them until they do. Or, you could elect to take the option of passing them by driving through oncoming traffic on the opposite side of the street. It’s completely up to you.

Cars are not the most popular mode of transportation here. They are almost impractical. Motor bikes, bicycles, auto rickshaw, and old fashioned walking are the winners. As our driver took us through the streets of Nagpur and Chandrapur, we narrowly escaped death time and time again. I tried not to pay attention to the direction and speed of the car and instead focused on my surroundings while Vinay chatted with Niju and Ajay about our trip.

The countryside was very green and lush. People were everywhere. In the middle of the road, on the side of the road, in the fields away from the roads, there were people. Women were carrying water in metal pots carefully balanced on their head, men were walking with sticks herding their cattle, and children in matching uniforms were meandering to and from school. Animals also sauntered across the road, dogs and cattle and goats. In fact, we drove up to a very large herd of animals blocking the entire width of the road.






Right after I took this last picture, the man shepherding the cattle, realizing that a white foreigner was taking his picture, smiled in amusement.

At a toll both about 1 hour and 30 minutes down the road, I had a taste of attention I would soon be receiving from the Chandrapur population. The driver rolled down the window to hand the man at the booth money. Meanwhile, a man sitting behind him realized that a white girl was sitting in the back seat of the car. I smiled at him. As we were driving off, Vinay and Niju burst out laughing. I swiveled my head around to witness what the commotion was. Through fits of laughter they explained that the man accepting the money had caught a glimpse of me. His jaw had dropped in shock, his finger had extended, and he had mouthed the words, “I saw foreigner!”

Foreigners do not travel to Chandrapur. There is no attraction, nothing to see. It is a small town, compared to other cities in India, roughly 700,000. Very little of western culture has influence here. In fact, Vinay told me that for most of the population, this would be the first encounter with a person of fairer skin. As we drove into the town around 11:30am, I was quite surprised. Vinay had warned me that his town would not be what I expected. It wasn’t. Two years ago I traveled to a village in Mexico on a mission trip. At first glance, this city of Chandrapur reminded me of the village. The streets were so dirty. Litter lined the streets and waste could be seen in piles on some of the corners. Most of the structures appeared broken and dilapidated. I must admit, I had not expected anything fancy, but I had not expected this.

A few minutes later we arrived at Vinay’s house. His mother and his sister Nita were waiting on the steps. “She is here! She is here!” I heard a tiny voice cry from a window located directly above the parked car. I looked up to see Janet, his 9-year old niece, grinning at me.

I knew all of their faces from photographs. As we climbed up the steps, Nita enveloped me in a hug while Vinay and his mother embraced. Vinay and his mother stood together for several minutes. I could see tears on Vinay’s face as he stepped back. It has been 1 year since he has seen his family. It is always an emotional trip home.

He reached out to me. “Mommy, this is Amanda. Amanda, this is my mother.” I hugged her. She kissed me on either check.

“It is so good to finally meet you!” I grinned at her as I was welcomed into the home.

The home was nicer on the inside than it looked on the outside. I was soon to learn that even though the exterior might look like dirty and dilapidated, that did not necessarily reflect what the inside looked like. Here are pictures of the home.

This is the living room:







This is one of two sinks in the home, it is in the small hallway that connects all the rooms in the home:



Here is an Indian style bathroom which is directly behind and to the left of the living room. It is used both genders. Most of the homes only have this type of bathroom, although Vinay told me that with new homes both are being included:




The shower is in the same room - there is no divider. The entire bathroom floor is the bottom of the shower.

Here is the bedroom where Janet and I slept; it is directly across the living room. It is also the only room in the house with air conditioning:







This bedroom also serves as a storage for some food and other items.

Here is the western style bathroom:






Here is the small porch outside of the second bedroom where the washing machine sits:



Here is the master bedroom where Nita and Vinay’s mother sleeps:




Here is the kitchen:




Here is the balcony that connects to the kitchen:



This is also where some clothes are washed and where larger pans that don’t fit in the kitchen sink are washed. More about clothes washing later.

Here is the dining area:



After I get a feel for the house, everyone sits down for a chat. Of course, most of what is spoken is in Malayalam so I’m not sure what is going on. We brought 3 suitcases with us on the trip, one for each of us and one full of gifts for the family. Amidst conversation, this gift suitcase was opened and items were passed out. Excitement over Ziploc bags, socks, lotions, even fly swatters! None of these things are available. (Well socks are available, of course, and lotions, but not of the quality that we brought with us).

Lunch is served and I gorge myself on delicious Indian cuisine. Vinay’s other sister, Ajay’s wife, Nina, and their son Anuj, join us. Nina and I exchange hugs and so good to meet yous. Her son looks at me curiously. I open my arms to him for a hug. He shakes his head.

Nina smiles, “He is very shy about hugging girls.”

I grin at him. “Well, I’m going to give you one every time I see you now!” I grab him from his mother and wrap him in a huge bear hug. I’m pretty sure I witnessed a blush.

At this point Vinay and I are utterly exhausted. I’m still not sure exactly what jet lag is supposed to feel like, but if it means feeling completely fatigued, then I have jet lag. We have just traveled for 36 hours and each of us has only managed to obtain about 5 hours of sleep.

We both take a short nap. Upon awaking, I am informed that there is an exciting cricket match to be seen down the street. Vinay and I walk down stairs and watch as Niju and other neighborhood children play a competitive game. Vinay joined, but got himself out after about 5 seconds.

This is also the first time the neighborhood becomes aware of my presence. We were all amused to watch as men, women, and other children began to gather around us on the streets. I could feel a million pairs of eyes watching me with unabashed curiosity.

Darkness fell on the cricket players a short time later and we walked back inside the house to succumb to some much needed rest.

Friday, July 24 2009 - Arrival!

There are some things that people never expect to happen in their wildest dreams. Yesterday, I was in Oklahoma City. Today, I am in India.

This is one of those things.

Once we landed in London, I must admit that I was very much in need of a nap. I also realized that never had I sat in one place for 7 hours and 45 minutes straight. Unlike Vinay, I am not able to sleep seated in an upright position. In addition, a potent mixture of anxiety, nervousness, and excitement has been plaguing me since I left Oklahoma City, quelling all my urges to sleep.

We stepped into the London airport at 7:50 am. We had to rush to connect to our next flight, which was boarding at 8:30 am. Although we didn’t miss it, we probably would have if Vinay hadn’t dragged me at the speed of light through the airport. It is very fortunate that he did.

This third airplane, was as large as the second, but even nicer. The seats were a bit softer and the monitors a bit larger. It was also now apparent that this plane was flying to India. Everything was now spoken in Hindi and translated into English. All of our flight crew appeared to be Indians and we were given a choice between international and Indian cuisine. We departed from London on this new aircraft at 9:45 am. Our destination, Mumbai, was 8 hours and 45 minutes away.

This flight was very uneventful, but I was grouchy and tired. My excitement for airplanes was diminishing. My body was so overcome with exhaustion that I was starting to actually fall asleep in an upright position! For the most part though, the sleep I received was minimal. Even once I fell asleep, something was always waking me. Either a message was announced over the PDA, or it was time to eat, or a passenger was climbing over me to get to the bathroom. Overall, I probably managed to acquire 4 or 5 hours of sleep. Sleep must be a rare phenomenon for most international travelers. Yet, even this tiny bit of rest managed to improve my overall disposition. My zest for airports and airplanes returned.

We landed in Mumbai around 12:20 am. It was a very surreal thing, to step off a plane and realize that you are in a very very far away land which very very far away from home. India! Yet our trip was still not over, we had to board yet one final airplane and then drive two hours to Chandrapur – our final destination. Oh, what adventures await us!

Thursday, July 23, 2009 - Departure!

The journey of a lifetime began today. Vinay and I departed from Will Rogers Airport at 12:55 pm and arrived in Chicago 1 hour and 43 minutes later. It was quite a breathtaking experience.

Flying in an airplane is wonderful. The opportunity to board an aircraft has only happened to me once before – over 5 years ago. I remember how exhilarating it was to view the world from such a different perspective. Today was filled with no less emotion as our plane conquered higher and higher altitudes. With each altitude, the houses grew smaller and the cars became punier until the earth’s landscape resembled an intricately plotted computer chip. It flabbergasts and amazes me that human intelligence developed the technology to soar amongst the clouds. From the airplane window, even the clouds stopped me in moments of wonder! Endless fields of cotton balls and cotton candy folding and unfolding. Only God can be behind such wonders as airplanes and clouds.

I spent most of this flight musing about such things and gleefully revealing my enthusiasm to Vinay every few seconds. He is not sure how to respond to my zeal.

Once we arrived in Chicago, I felt like a kid at a zoo. My eyes didn’t know where to look. Never had I encountered so many airplanes in one location. Inside the airport, I was greeted by a cacophony that far surpassed that of Will Rodgers. Immediately I decided that airports are wonderful places. They are an intoxicating hub filled with the sights and smells of human diversity. Here is my favorite picture of the Chicago airport that demonstrated just this :




Vinay took this picture of me in front of the largest touch screen monitor I have ever seen. All I had to do was touch a city and the current weather conditions materialized before my eyes. Incredible!



And here is a picture of me writing this post while we waited.

Two hours and one musketeer candy bar later, we board our flight for London.
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Or so we thought.

Actually, inclement weather conditions kept us waiting at the airport for an additional hour. This was a great concern because once we arrived in London, we had only a short layover before boarding a different airline for India. If this plane delayed us by much, there was a chance we would miss our flight from London to Mumbai.

But fortunately, that didn’t happen.

We boarded the 7 hour and 45 minute flight to London. Instantly, I was stunned by the distinct differences in aircrafts. The American Eagle that flew us to Chicago had been incredibly small. It is still unclear to me how all the passengers were able to fit in the first place. This second plane, a Boeing 777, was a mammoth in comparison. Being the inexperienced traveler, and never having flown internationally before, I was deeply impressed and excited by the individual monitors located behind each seat. They apparently provided movies, music, and games to each passenger. However, its best feature was a real-time mapping of our flight. I was able to see exactly which country we were flying over, what the current altitude was, and the current temperature outside the plane. Other important differences in the aircrafts included the roomer seats, and the blankets and pillows that were provided to us.

One significant thing to note about our flight to London – I saw the ocean for the first time! There is definitely a lot of water in the ocean.

With our late departure from Chicago and the change in time difference, we were not due to arrive in London until the following day. I studied my world geography on the amazing monitor and Vinay slept while we flew across the night sky.