With not a very pleasant beginning on my first week, were I spent most of my time on my own, not really connecting with other volunteers, I had to look for further life outside the Forest. So my second and last week had to change. And it did.
I took the reigns instead of leaving the place rule my way. I got my bicycle and went to explore what was called Auroville. So far I had just seen a hint of it while going to a wedding in a packed up bus with the rest of volunteers.
But one of my primary motivations was bread. And not to forget the filters for my cigarettes. But I couldn't buy any bread, I needed vegan bread, and the only place available was the Auroville Bakery. So I headed on that direction with the company of Kelsey, first stopping at the visitors center to acquire a very useful map of the area.
At Kula Palayam, in front of Richie Rich's, some random guy stopped us and asked us how to get to Sadhana Forest. He couldn't be more precise on who to ask. It was Eric. We gave him directions and he got there hours later than he should have. He would be key in the future events that surrounded my life. But more of him later on.
We got to Farm Fresh, what we thought was the bakery, and obviously, no vegan bread was available, they didn't even know what was that. And that turned out kind of frustrating. Fortunately, we discovered that the place called Farm Fresh, wasn't the Auroville Bakery, and so I was decided to try again. I had enjoyed it.
At night, I started cycling with David for parothas and chai at Koot Road, the nearest commercial village. Others came too, but with their mopeds. It didn't matter the weather conditions. We needed our daily non-vegan food. Once we rode back while raining. I always had to light David's path as his flashlight wasn't powerful enough, but we always enjoyed it.
Life started with a peddling.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Volunteers
There are all sorts of volunteers. those who work hard and believe in the cause, those who work hard and not necessarily believe in the cause, those who work hard, but don't believe in the cause, those who think believing in the cause is enough not to work hard, and those who don't work hard because they don't believe in the cause. Of course, there are plenty of medium points to this and I would consider myself within one of these.
I didn't believe in the cause, and wouldn't say I was either a hard worker or a lazy bastard. On the other hand, Miguel, whom I mentioned before, didn't believe in the cause or how it was being managed but worked as hard as anyone else. Reza, on the contrary, was one those who thought believing in the cause was enough hard work for the day. Amit, Julie, Tom, Xavier or David loved the place, loved the idea, and therefor worked very hard, and were definitely compromised with Sadhana Forest.
But I haven't introduced properly some of these volunteers. Xavier, for example, is a french guy with few friends, not because he didn't look forward to it, but because his English was very poor, and it was hard on him to communicate. We talked in Spanish and got along pretty well, but still was hard to communicate with him. No fluent conversation seem to appear. He disappeared every weekend to discover the surroundings and moved around always in bicycle, and mostly by his own.
Tom, was similar to Xavier in way of action. He was quiet, didn't say much. Even on Sunday meetings, when everyone would talk about the place and their sensations, he would limit his words wisely by just introducing himself: "Hi, I'm Tom". Sometimes, not even the "Hi" was mentioned. I had the honor to talk with him for more than 15 minutes, which seemed like a miracle around the place.
And then there was David, from Brooklyn, NY. That was a quick connection we had there, and when he took Amit's place at the kitchen doing the morning ragi and as lunch chef, man that was the best time in the Forest. David and Alex together was even a better combination of laughter and fun working. David came after my first week there. However, he had already spent sometime in the community before, and was considered a long timer.
Volunteers kept coming and going. Gita, Miguel and Samantha, Sean and Todd, Esra, Cameron, the New Zealand family and others left. And to occupy their space were David, Shimri, Nora and Neal, Tanzuk or Eric. And each fitted in one of those definitions of a volunteer, each had a different world to show, a different life to live, different experiences to share. But we were all together, and worked together for each other, and in a way, that was also wonderful.
I didn't believe in the cause, and wouldn't say I was either a hard worker or a lazy bastard. On the other hand, Miguel, whom I mentioned before, didn't believe in the cause or how it was being managed but worked as hard as anyone else. Reza, on the contrary, was one those who thought believing in the cause was enough hard work for the day. Amit, Julie, Tom, Xavier or David loved the place, loved the idea, and therefor worked very hard, and were definitely compromised with Sadhana Forest.
But I haven't introduced properly some of these volunteers. Xavier, for example, is a french guy with few friends, not because he didn't look forward to it, but because his English was very poor, and it was hard on him to communicate. We talked in Spanish and got along pretty well, but still was hard to communicate with him. No fluent conversation seem to appear. He disappeared every weekend to discover the surroundings and moved around always in bicycle, and mostly by his own.
Tom, was similar to Xavier in way of action. He was quiet, didn't say much. Even on Sunday meetings, when everyone would talk about the place and their sensations, he would limit his words wisely by just introducing himself: "Hi, I'm Tom". Sometimes, not even the "Hi" was mentioned. I had the honor to talk with him for more than 15 minutes, which seemed like a miracle around the place.
And then there was David, from Brooklyn, NY. That was a quick connection we had there, and when he took Amit's place at the kitchen doing the morning ragi and as lunch chef, man that was the best time in the Forest. David and Alex together was even a better combination of laughter and fun working. David came after my first week there. However, he had already spent sometime in the community before, and was considered a long timer.
Volunteers kept coming and going. Gita, Miguel and Samantha, Sean and Todd, Esra, Cameron, the New Zealand family and others left. And to occupy their space were David, Shimri, Nora and Neal, Tanzuk or Eric. And each fitted in one of those definitions of a volunteer, each had a different world to show, a different life to live, different experiences to share. But we were all together, and worked together for each other, and in a way, that was also wonderful.
Taking a break - Break I
A week in Sadhana hardly moving from the place, but to Koot Road for Internet and cookies, was enough for me to decide to go to Pondi for the day. Furthermore, I had a reason to go. I had forgotten my mobile phone charger at the hotel room I was staying at, and talking with the manager by phone wasn't helping much. But getting into Pondi wasn't easy stuff apparently.
First I needed to get to the road. Didn't feel comfortable with leaving the bicycle in Koot Road for the whole day, so I asked Miguel, an Argentinian guy with whom I connected very fast, to take me to the road. There's the problem, there are two ways to get into Sadhana, one through Moratandi and one through Koot Road. The place to get the bus in Koot Road was easy to find, but not so much in Moratandi, where you were in the middle of nowhere, unable to stop a bus cause, in the first place, you couldn't tell which one was actually going to Pondi. Later I learned that all would go there, or at least in that direction.
Second, I didn't want to stop in the bus stand, so I decided to get out of the bus earlier thinking I knew where I was but, actually, not knowing. So after trying several rickshaws who asked for more money than I was prepared to pay, I walked and walked in the desired direction not really knowing how far away was I from my destination.
Finally, I get a rickshaw for the stipulated price of 20 rupees and I went directly to the Continental Hotel, where I had stayed during my time in Pondi. Apparently, the manager, didn't understand the word "charger" when I yelled it through the phone, but I accomplished to make them understand what I had lost, and that I really needed it. So they showed me 3 different mobile phone chargers, none of which was mine. However, they promised to keep on looking. I wasn't very happy with the results, nevertheless, I wasn't hopeless, a tiny bit of light could be seen at the end of the tunnel where my charger was.
The rest of the day consisted on spending all my time in my favorite places. Coffee.com for cold coffee and Satsanga for a pepper steak and a beer. Another of my missions was to get some filters for my rolling cigarettes, but I had no luck on that one, and so I had to keep on with normal disgusting cigarettes and bidis.
For the way back, I didn't want to risk it on the bus again, so I got a rickshaw all the way back. Comfortable and relaxed. A come and go break that made me realize things had to change in Sadhana. My attitude.
First I needed to get to the road. Didn't feel comfortable with leaving the bicycle in Koot Road for the whole day, so I asked Miguel, an Argentinian guy with whom I connected very fast, to take me to the road. There's the problem, there are two ways to get into Sadhana, one through Moratandi and one through Koot Road. The place to get the bus in Koot Road was easy to find, but not so much in Moratandi, where you were in the middle of nowhere, unable to stop a bus cause, in the first place, you couldn't tell which one was actually going to Pondi. Later I learned that all would go there, or at least in that direction.
Second, I didn't want to stop in the bus stand, so I decided to get out of the bus earlier thinking I knew where I was but, actually, not knowing. So after trying several rickshaws who asked for more money than I was prepared to pay, I walked and walked in the desired direction not really knowing how far away was I from my destination.
Finally, I get a rickshaw for the stipulated price of 20 rupees and I went directly to the Continental Hotel, where I had stayed during my time in Pondi. Apparently, the manager, didn't understand the word "charger" when I yelled it through the phone, but I accomplished to make them understand what I had lost, and that I really needed it. So they showed me 3 different mobile phone chargers, none of which was mine. However, they promised to keep on looking. I wasn't very happy with the results, nevertheless, I wasn't hopeless, a tiny bit of light could be seen at the end of the tunnel where my charger was.
The rest of the day consisted on spending all my time in my favorite places. Coffee.com for cold coffee and Satsanga for a pepper steak and a beer. Another of my missions was to get some filters for my rolling cigarettes, but I had no luck on that one, and so I had to keep on with normal disgusting cigarettes and bidis.
For the way back, I didn't want to risk it on the bus again, so I got a rickshaw all the way back. Comfortable and relaxed. A come and go break that made me realize things had to change in Sadhana. My attitude.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Observation
I am a person of observation. Then, I act. And on this basis, I spend my first week in Sadhana. I observed the work being done and the volunteers.
We were supposed to work 4 hours a day for lodging and pay 100 rupees for our 3 meals. Work started at 6:30 a.m. until 11:30 with an hour break between 8:30 and 9:30 when we had breakfast. First work would consist either on going to the forest or working in the kitchen preparing our first meal for the whole community.
On my first day, I went to the forest. There, it was season for bunding and digging holes. That day I stuck for the first option. Bunding is basically used for water conservation purposes. A big hole is dug to store water and bunds are built to prevent erosion. So in the rainy season, or the Monsoon in India, water would flow into the holes and the extra water would flow slowly downhill permitting plants to absorb as much as possible.
Second day, and I decided to go for something else. Bunding wasn't really hard work, but working with flip-flops wasn't ideal either. And it turned out, obviously, that it wasn't either for digging holes. However, flip-flops weren't the worst problem, tools were. We had crowbars, which actually worked out quite good for loosing up the soil, but then we also had folded shovels great for throwing soil into a bucket, but awful for digging holes 1 m deep and 60cm wide at each side. They were just too big for its purpose and you would end up using your hands, or whatever you could find that would be more appropriate.
If, to all the inconveniences, you add the holes were separated by scarcely one meter, the work altogether seemed useless more than compensating. So on my third day, I went for work in the kitchen, and there I would stay for my whole stay in Sadhana until my second to last day. At least for the first shift.
The first week was also for observing the volunteers, and of course, the couple running the place, which hardly showed themselves. On my arrival, there were 4 volunteering families. A family from New Zealand with amazing hard working kids. They all worked in whatever was needed. And two Israeli families with smaller children, about 3 each, and were only the father would work. And then there was Jack, Dorothe and Jonathan, whom will have their own post.
At the time, there were other volunteers worth mentioning. Spicy Alex from California, who stayed in the kitchen after getting ill and hurting his leg or foot at some point. Anva, whom, as Alex, arrived the same day as me, took a week to learn my name, and spent the same week talking to me in Hebrew, which I obviously don't understand, because, NO, I'm not Israeli.
Dreads are a fashion in India. My volunteer welcomer, Cameron, whom I spoke about before, had them. Amit, who doesn't like ragi, but loves it, our morning chef, had them. And Reza, the German with the laughing treacherous eyes had them. Except for a week Amit was sick, I worked with him in the kitchen every morning until a perfect understanding of what each had to do was accomplished. And he ended fucking up my English while I was with him. I started talking like Israelis. I love that guy. If I ever go to Israel, he is definitely one of the main reasons. Though, he has a German passport.
Reza, on the other hand, wasn't as hard working as Amit. And I realized with him how age difference can be so noticeable. Julie, an American Jewish girl was one of the long-timers along with Reza, Amit and others. On my arrival, she was definitely trying to hook up with Esra, who's girlfriend was somewhere in India. That girl really needed to get laid.
And then there was Sean and Ross, Tom, Carly, Gita, or Xavier among others. I had tons of fun with Sean and Todd. Sean was crazy, while Ross, despite being American, was more settled. Carly was an amazing English girl, and boys, no, she wasn't hot, but that wouldn't have mattered, had I several more centimeters up to the sky.
At the end, I would naturally spent more time with some of the volunteers and less with others. With some I would connect more and others I would not trust. I liked them all, but there wasn't the same connection with each of them. Age, interests, hobbies, language were factors that influenced on spending more time with one person than with another. With Amit for example, I spent plenty of time inside the compound, specially in working hours, but outside, I spent more time with others, and it all will be seen as time goes by.
We were supposed to work 4 hours a day for lodging and pay 100 rupees for our 3 meals. Work started at 6:30 a.m. until 11:30 with an hour break between 8:30 and 9:30 when we had breakfast. First work would consist either on going to the forest or working in the kitchen preparing our first meal for the whole community.
On my first day, I went to the forest. There, it was season for bunding and digging holes. That day I stuck for the first option. Bunding is basically used for water conservation purposes. A big hole is dug to store water and bunds are built to prevent erosion. So in the rainy season, or the Monsoon in India, water would flow into the holes and the extra water would flow slowly downhill permitting plants to absorb as much as possible.
Second day, and I decided to go for something else. Bunding wasn't really hard work, but working with flip-flops wasn't ideal either. And it turned out, obviously, that it wasn't either for digging holes. However, flip-flops weren't the worst problem, tools were. We had crowbars, which actually worked out quite good for loosing up the soil, but then we also had folded shovels great for throwing soil into a bucket, but awful for digging holes 1 m deep and 60cm wide at each side. They were just too big for its purpose and you would end up using your hands, or whatever you could find that would be more appropriate.
If, to all the inconveniences, you add the holes were separated by scarcely one meter, the work altogether seemed useless more than compensating. So on my third day, I went for work in the kitchen, and there I would stay for my whole stay in Sadhana until my second to last day. At least for the first shift.
The first week was also for observing the volunteers, and of course, the couple running the place, which hardly showed themselves. On my arrival, there were 4 volunteering families. A family from New Zealand with amazing hard working kids. They all worked in whatever was needed. And two Israeli families with smaller children, about 3 each, and were only the father would work. And then there was Jack, Dorothe and Jonathan, whom will have their own post.
At the time, there were other volunteers worth mentioning. Spicy Alex from California, who stayed in the kitchen after getting ill and hurting his leg or foot at some point. Anva, whom, as Alex, arrived the same day as me, took a week to learn my name, and spent the same week talking to me in Hebrew, which I obviously don't understand, because, NO, I'm not Israeli.
Dreads are a fashion in India. My volunteer welcomer, Cameron, whom I spoke about before, had them. Amit, who doesn't like ragi, but loves it, our morning chef, had them. And Reza, the German with the laughing treacherous eyes had them. Except for a week Amit was sick, I worked with him in the kitchen every morning until a perfect understanding of what each had to do was accomplished. And he ended fucking up my English while I was with him. I started talking like Israelis. I love that guy. If I ever go to Israel, he is definitely one of the main reasons. Though, he has a German passport.
Reza, on the other hand, wasn't as hard working as Amit. And I realized with him how age difference can be so noticeable. Julie, an American Jewish girl was one of the long-timers along with Reza, Amit and others. On my arrival, she was definitely trying to hook up with Esra, who's girlfriend was somewhere in India. That girl really needed to get laid.
And then there was Sean and Ross, Tom, Carly, Gita, or Xavier among others. I had tons of fun with Sean and Todd. Sean was crazy, while Ross, despite being American, was more settled. Carly was an amazing English girl, and boys, no, she wasn't hot, but that wouldn't have mattered, had I several more centimeters up to the sky.
At the end, I would naturally spent more time with some of the volunteers and less with others. With some I would connect more and others I would not trust. I liked them all, but there wasn't the same connection with each of them. Age, interests, hobbies, language were factors that influenced on spending more time with one person than with another. With Amit for example, I spent plenty of time inside the compound, specially in working hours, but outside, I spent more time with others, and it all will be seen as time goes by.
Deception
I left to Sadhana Forest, excited and still a bit drunk from the last night partying. I got there fresh and full, but without sleep, so my freshness fade away quite quickly. After the excitement of the day before and all the new friends, I was hoping to establish a home in Sadhana, but I knew in the instance I got there I wasn't going to last longer than needed. It wasn't what I was looking for.
My smile, which I tried to maintain as radiant as possible all the way through the tour, hided a deceiving expression of my eyes, covered by my sunglasses. However, Cameron, who received me at the entrance ready to smoke a bidi must've seen I wasn't going to fit, when placing me in a pretty cool spot in one of the huts. Still, a thin mattress covered by a mosquito net on one of the sides of the hut wasn't the comfort I was looking for. I could hardly spread my things out, and so, I was stuck there the two compulsory weeks.
Sadhana Forest is not an NGO, it's not even an organization or association. It forms part of Auroville, a vision, an idea, to create a city for unity, for meditation, without religions, and with a strong sense of sustainability. A free place for everyone that believes in those principles. A city planned for 50.000 inhabitants and still in construction. But more of Auroville later on.
Auroville is based in many communities that held volunteers from all over the world. Sadhana Forest is one of those places, where Yorit and Aviram had been taking care of the place or the past 4 years. It's a land that once had been an Evergreen Tropical Forest. It had been reforested with foreign plants, and their idea was to regenerate that forest again with native trees. A great deal of an effort.
Within the Forest, a compound with several huts was created. It is to be a sustainable vegan community. So there is no electricity in the huts, except for the kitchen, the main hut and the toilets. The energy was provided by solar panels, so extreme care had to be taken of them if you wanted energy at night. In they would not provide energy, the batteries could be powered by cycle power. Some kind of static bicycles that would regenerate the batteries by peddling.
In each of the 5 toilets, there was a place for peeing and a spot for pooing. The poo pots, made of ceramic, contained a mixture of poo, toilet paper and resin, used to cover the poo and avoid the smelling. No peeing was allowed in there. Altogether would be used as compost.
Cooking, was done with specially cylindrical structures designed to consume less wood, about 10% of what would be needed in an open fire. Coconuts, pineapples, peanuts, bananas or papayas were grown around the compound, and compost was used for their planting and growth. Leftovers were separated in raw food and cooked food for such a purpose.
Water for general uses is pumped and all washing places are thought to use the less amount of water possible. And in this kind of thinking, we used natural biodegradable soaps, not being permitted unnatural products for personal use such as deodorants or shaving creams.
Not only the community is focused towards environmental conservation and sustainable development, but it's also into veganism and the use of unprocessed foods. The hardest part to endure. And not only for me, a convinced meat eater, but for vegetarians and vegans as well. The concept went too far away, not being permitted tea, or fried food. Fried food, OK I can understand, but tea? That is far away my comprehension limits.
For some reason, at some stage, everyone had a point in common, the craving for sugar. And it's not that there is no sugar around. We got it every single day on our daily fruit salad that always contains papaya, and in the our daily ragi. And though meals are surprisingly good, or can be, depending on the chef, it's always the same thing and it gets boring.
This is no more than a general view, which can sound good, though reality can also be very different. And so the details will come later on...
Sadhana Forest is not an NGO, it's not even an organization or association. It forms part of Auroville, a vision, an idea, to create a city for unity, for meditation, without religions, and with a strong sense of sustainability. A free place for everyone that believes in those principles. A city planned for 50.000 inhabitants and still in construction. But more of Auroville later on.
Auroville is based in many communities that held volunteers from all over the world. Sadhana Forest is one of those places, where Yorit and Aviram had been taking care of the place or the past 4 years. It's a land that once had been an Evergreen Tropical Forest. It had been reforested with foreign plants, and their idea was to regenerate that forest again with native trees. A great deal of an effort.
Within the Forest, a compound with several huts was created. It is to be a sustainable vegan community. So there is no electricity in the huts, except for the kitchen, the main hut and the toilets. The energy was provided by solar panels, so extreme care had to be taken of them if you wanted energy at night. In they would not provide energy, the batteries could be powered by cycle power. Some kind of static bicycles that would regenerate the batteries by peddling.
In each of the 5 toilets, there was a place for peeing and a spot for pooing. The poo pots, made of ceramic, contained a mixture of poo, toilet paper and resin, used to cover the poo and avoid the smelling. No peeing was allowed in there. Altogether would be used as compost.
Cooking, was done with specially cylindrical structures designed to consume less wood, about 10% of what would be needed in an open fire. Coconuts, pineapples, peanuts, bananas or papayas were grown around the compound, and compost was used for their planting and growth. Leftovers were separated in raw food and cooked food for such a purpose.
Water for general uses is pumped and all washing places are thought to use the less amount of water possible. And in this kind of thinking, we used natural biodegradable soaps, not being permitted unnatural products for personal use such as deodorants or shaving creams.
Not only the community is focused towards environmental conservation and sustainable development, but it's also into veganism and the use of unprocessed foods. The hardest part to endure. And not only for me, a convinced meat eater, but for vegetarians and vegans as well. The concept went too far away, not being permitted tea, or fried food. Fried food, OK I can understand, but tea? That is far away my comprehension limits.
For some reason, at some stage, everyone had a point in common, the craving for sugar. And it's not that there is no sugar around. We got it every single day on our daily fruit salad that always contains papaya, and in the our daily ragi. And though meals are surprisingly good, or can be, depending on the chef, it's always the same thing and it gets boring.
This is no more than a general view, which can sound good, though reality can also be very different. And so the details will come later on...
Monday, July 28, 2008
Making myself at home
10 days I got stuck in Pondicherry. The first day already promised new friends. An though French in Pondi are quite arrogant and inaccessible, the first two guys I met were French.
I got to Pondi in the morning, and more by accident than for wanting the experience, I got a cycle rickshaw. On our way to my first choice of a guest house it started raining. I was getting wet, and my bags were getting wet. I told the skinny driver dressed up only with a longui and a wrinkled t-shirt to stop. before I could get my stuff out, he was crying, wait, wait, while extending a broken rag over the passengers sit. Whatever. So I decided to hang on there with the desperate fellow, even though it didn't help much to keep me dry.
My first choice of a guest house, seemed far away from the tourist area. Cheap, but boring, plus, there was a curfew at 10:30 p.m. Had to keep looking. After a couple of tries I decided to get another rickshaw, this time a motorized one, to get closer to the desired new area, the french quarters, where I would check out the Park Guest House. An Ashram. And as in the other guest houses, there was also a curfew at 10:30 p.m. and smoking was prohibited. Not that I like smoking in my room, but fucking aye, I didn't like it to be prohibited either. However, I tried luck, prizes were too expensive on the area, and this was reasonably cheap. After a swift look at my wet person, the receptionist told me there was no room available, it was all full. And of course, same reaction at the New Park Guest House, a newer version of the old one.
So on my search of a cheap place to stay with no curfews or other prohibitions, I ran up into 2 French students living in Chennai, and I joined in their search of a place to crash. And finally, after a few turns in different directions, we got to the Hotel Continental, probably the cheapest reasonable place in town.
My room wasn't ready on arrival. I had to wait for other people to leave, or so they said. I think they were just painting or something like that and had to wait till they finished. Anyway, I had to wait, so I looked for a restaurant to get a bite, maybe, and get a beer.
After 4 hours of waiting, I went back hoping the room would be ready. On seeing it, I liked it. Simple bed, with TV and a bathroom with hot water. All I needed to recover from my earache. And though it was overpriced, 250 Rupees, I rather that than a spiritual prison.
I wasn't up to much on arrival, I was tired, my ear ached and there was no hurry. So it wasn't until the following day I started discovering the town and discovered the differences with the rest of India and the differences within the same town.
First I made it up to Coffee.com my morning bar, where Desiree would always serve me with a smile while practising her Spanish. Later on, I would arrive to L'Space with an Australian guy I had met on the street while looking for a place to get a beer. He was up for doing the same thing. As I get in, I hear "Madam?, Madam?". I turn around to see an Indian fellow with the name Anil. "You said Madam?" Oh, his apologies were fast and almost interrupted me. But I was on the joking mood and wanted to fool around him a bit. "You like my bud, is that it? You like my bud?" I was saying this while slapping my bud. We both started laughing into a good relationship that would last as long as I kept going there and he worked there. He turned to be a good guy, always happy to see me, as I was to see him. He even invited me to mojito one night.
That first night at L'Space I had discovered a good place to eat and drink and meet a whole bunch of new people. Those I met the first night, left the following day, except Johanna. A Portuguese girl staying there for one more night when we would go to an R&B, techno concert with no alcohol for 100 Rupees. Despite the price, we had a good time.
It had been a good start, a good start that didn't bring a good afterwards. On the following days I went back to loneliness, with my TV and the Shantaram book as my best friends. Until the second to last day I was to spend in Pondi. That day, I met Peter, an Indian-Sri Lankan young handsome guy working as a tourist guide and hooking up with as many girls as possible. And he hooked up with many. First day I met him at L'Space he offered me a 12 hour job in a shooting in Chennai during a cricket match. A shooting that never happened. But we had a good time the following day.
We spent our time with Phoebe, Pier, Ally, Ron, Megan and others, first at L'Space and later on at Pier's house in Auroville, were other people joined in. The night kept on until the morning, when we had an early swim in the ocean. Sebastian, our faithful rickshaw driver joined us until the end, and even went for beers in the middle of the night when we had run out of it. Of course, he would have one for himself.
Thing of all this is, I had a morning bar to go to for coffee, and a night bar to go to for beers and meet new people. Though it's true I wasn't always lucky with that, now I knew people that knew more people, and certainly that would lead to meeting more people. Though wanting to stay more and enjoy the new feelings, I was about to leave Pondi. My purpose in India called me and I had to follow it. I had been postponing it for too long already. And though I didn't know it yet, I was starting to feel good in Pondi, I was starting to feel cozy, just like home.
Bonjour
Before my volunteering position, in which I expected to eat only vegan food, get fit doing physical work while digging holes and making bunds, and lots of yoga, I needed to get ready. I hadn't done anything of that for a while, and not only my body had to realize the situation, but specially my brain.
Also, I needed some material things as well. The place I was supposed to volunteer at wasn't too communicated from the rest of the tourist world, so I wasn't expecting too many comforts. I needed yoga pants, for example, done with the silk I had bought in Varanasi, and of course, I had to satisfy my belly with all the non-vegan food available. And I must say I went to the right place.
Pondicherry, an ex-French colony, where French seemed to think it was still theirs, but what's even worse, Indians thought so as well. Similarly to Portuguese, French seemed to do a good job on influencing the locals to their customs and their language. There is a clear difference if compared to British India. While Brits left the country a total disaster in war, French left a wonderful peaceful city that reminds of Europe's early colonizing ages. Big streets, with big sidewalks and big colonial houses. The style is present in doors and windows. Yeah well, also a smaller space to conquer, and easier to control.
In Pondi, Indians have names such as Peter, Phoebe, Sebastian, Desiree or Joel. They not only speak English, but perhaps they are more fluent in French. They eat with cutlery, as if eating with their hands was impolite or uncivilized, and they appreciate a good wine. They listen to western music, and like western food. They spend most of their time surrounded with westerners, at western areas (also seen as tourist areas). Indian girls are more accessible, and if not beautiful, sexy.
Some say this is not India, and it's true in a certain way. The market is different, the people behave differently. Everything is overpriced. And it seems as if everything that fits into these characteristics is not capable of being India. Like if India had to be dirty and poor. But there is a new India emerging, were their people look at the west for dressing and behavioural patterns. It's a mistake, if you ask me, but it's still India. A big sign to prevent baby girls being burned near the hospital is a clear sign that you're still there. Unfortunately, not their best part to remind you of that.
However, though you perceive the French influence specially in the young wealthy kiddo partying there and there or in the owner of a bar full of tourists, you can also see it in the rickshaw driver that changes his name into a more European style or the random fella that answers to you in French though you have asked in English. But even then, you get the feeling as for what you can see in the streets, near the hospitals, in the market, etc. the French influence is for the wealthy Indians only. As all colonizing countries, they forgot what is important, the people.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
India strikes back
I left India missing India, and I left Nepal missing Nepal. But the story of Nepal is to be written somewhere else.
The plane from Kathmandu landed in Calcutta, and there, for the first time, I realized what was going on. I was indeed going back to India. I was in India.
Before ever getting a shoe in India, everyone talks about the smell. A smell you notice even before the plane landing. I hadn't noticed it the first time I put my feet in the International Airport of Delhi. But yes, I did noticed now. And yes, it was a smell I could place in India. I knew it well. I had spent 4 months and a half letting it run freely through my nostrils. And there it was, reminding me how good Nepal was. Unfortunately, getting into Indian soil didn't give me the feeling of love I had when leaving the country 23 days before. I was kind of expecting that feeling to come back, but no, I hadn't have enough of Nepal yet. And I felt disappointed.
My landing in Calcutta was just a transit point. I had to change from the international terminal to the domestic one to get my flight to Chennai, which wasn't my final destination either. As I got into the airport I noticed one of those differences between the two countries. One of those differences that allows the comparison with the so well known phrase "Same, same, but different". The garbage. I had just come from an immaculate airport in Kathmandu to the filthiest airport I have ever seen. And I can say, I'm one of those persons able to say he has been in quiet a few of them around the world.
I mean, it's not that Nepali streets are cleaner, but this was filthy. The garbage surrounded the seats. The floors were sticky with coffee and other liquids that had been drying up there for hell knows how long. It was difficult to walk and not step onto some kind of wrap or find a seat without the smell of decomposition coming up to you. Yes there was a strike I must say, but that is no excuse for the passengers behavior, the attitude. So difficult is to keep your shit and through it in the next available can? Yeap, I was back, the country were the garbage goes directly to the floor. At the end, someone will pick it up sooner or later.
Anyway, I had made it in time to pick up my luggage in the international terminal and go to the domestic terminal for checking. I was sort of preoccupied I would not make it. But though that was fine, my body wasn't. Not only for the ache of not loving such a country anymore and missing the one I had just left, but because the first flight had struck directly into my ears. They hurt as hell, and I wanted to recover before the next flight, worried it would get worse. And it did. The second flight was killing, demolishing. The pain I experienced lasted about 5 days in which I had no choice but to quit smoking.
There is a saying that problems don't come alone. And indeed. I had no Indian Rupees. I was supposed to get a pre-paid taxi to go to Erin's house. For those who don;t remember, Erin is the American woman I had trekked with back in Uttaranchal, like 5 months ago. We had maintained good contact since then. I can't say the same of the other two trekkers though. Erin had been giving me tips there and then and now she was letting me stay at her place, to which I thank her kindness, for this and for more that will come later on.
So back to the story, the pre-paid taxi booth was inside the terminal and the ATM was outside the terminal. Technically once out, there is no way in back to the booth. I wasn't sure how to proceed. My bag was damn heavy. I had discovered when checking in at Kathmandu that it weighted 25 k's, not including my smaller bag with the camera in it. I was tired from the trip and couldn't think properly, plus I had to add the pain in my ear. I called Erin for advice, and she told me the obvious, to ask the police guard. His answer to my: "Can I get outside to take out money from ATM and come back in to get a pre-paid taxi?" was a waggling head. Yes, that was the total evidence I was back in India.
Once out, and in again, I stepped out with my pre-paid taxi ticket on my hand. Some random fella tried to get it from me while asking me if I needed a pre-paid taxi. I was swifter and headed directly to the following pre-paid taxi booth were you handed the ticket and they assigned you a taxi driver.
So, so far, everything was being easy, but I wasn't sure if I would make to Erin's house with a driver with no English at all and an address on a crumpled piece of paper he just kept on looking at with faces I could just not interpret. But we did, and on the first try. I felt I had no choice but to tip the driver for such a miraculously finding. Or maybe it was because I felt ashamed of doubting him.
At the end, I caught up with Erin in a long chit-chat and got into a mattress on the floor that would be my bed for the night. My return to India was accomplished. And I closed my eyes wanting to be in Nepal. But deep inside, I was tired of buses, trains and, now, planes. i had been resting in Kathmandu, but what I needed was a place for myself, a place with some good comfort. And I wished to find it in the volunteering position I was heading for.
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