Date: 13 of July 2009
Location: Kovalam Beach
Accomplishments: We cycled 60 kilometers from Varkala Beach to Kovalam Beach
Easy cycling physically-- flat terrain, however traffic was medium to heavy, medium pollution
martes, 25 de agosto de 2009
Varkala highlights
Date: July 10, 2009
Location: Varkala Beach, Kerala State, India
Accomplishments: We cycled 130 kilometers/78 miles today from Allepey to Varkala Beach!
Traveling is not always a dreamy vista over a glass of wine. While it is unpredictable, adventurous, and exciting, sometimes those same exact feelings of unpredictability take a negative avenue and they change from excitement to stressful. After a while the unpredictability piece becomes scary and I yearn for the comforts of my own place. Today while cycling the ocean front road through smog and overbearing traffic, dodging rickshaws, bull drawn carts, buses, cars, people everywhere, I miss the regularity and comfort of the Kal-Haven trail and my own street.
At 1:00, we stop at a vegetarian hotel/restaurant for veg thali (veg set meal of the day). I go to wash my hands and I realize that my face and arms are covered in a gray film. The "ocean view road" has turned out to be "smog lane outlined by garbage, factories,and shacks.
Eating lunch, we order a mineral water, and I feel bad for all the plastic bottles that we waste. I think of all the people and each day all the plastic bottles, containers, wrappers, bags, so much we throw away Even though I care, plastic waste and creating garbage is our human way of life and it is so hard to avoid.
Reader, I challenge you to survive one single day without creating any garbage! Try going to the store to purchase anything! Everything comes in a package!
So after a good chai tea and veg curries with rice, we are re-energized. WE face the crazy streets.
8.5 hours total cycling time, we make the last stretch into Varkala. The main road ends into the ocean. Immediately, I feel the salt stick to my already smog-frosted arms. A man in a humble tea stall says,
"Hello! You are coming from?"
"America!" I say.
"Nice! Your good name?"
"Steve and she is Teresa!"
We rest our bikes on the pole outside and enjoy two glasses of cardamom tea.
"You stay here in Varkala today?" he asks
"Yes," I respond.
"Where is a good place?"
"Direct opposite, nice place, nice family and here I can make for you dinner,
Kerala food," he smiles. Then he brings us a photograph of several American people eating in his restaurant.
Even though we are so hot, sweaty, polluted, grimy, and salty, the sea breeze is welcoming. The cardamom milk spice tea is soothing. We look at the lodge next door. It has a beautiful sea view off of a large room for only 500 rupees. The lodge becomes our haven for the next three days. The man next door and his wife become our chefs of masala dosas, parotas, and vegetable curries.
A few moments to remember from Varkala Beach:
1. Sitting on the balcony, we watch the local Indian tourists do religious chants/prayers under umbrellas on the beach.
2. The waves are phenomenally HUGE. They CRASH into the cliffs that slowly feed the land to the hungry sea.
3. We walk along the cliff with an incredible view on the left of the sea and a chain of restaurants and lodges on our right. As Steve and I walk along, I casually make eye-contact with a girl sitting in a cafe.
"Steve, we just passed this girl in that cafe back there and I swear that I know her from somewhere!"
Then like a light-switch it clicks!
"I know! She is the girl that entered Zina Cottages as we were leaving Munnar! Before she was wearing a pink and blue chudidah shirt that I adored! Now she is wearing all black," I say, " I've got an idea! We will walk back slowly. You look at her and tell me if that is her, the girl from Munnar!"
We turn around and in front of the cafe, she waves to us. We walk up to her. A moment's recognition of an acquaintance becomes an hour conversation with a friend. Tanya, as it turns out is from Chicago-- only three hours from our home of Kalamazoo. It's as if we had to travel half way around the world to meet her. Hopefully, we will cross paths again, only this time it will be closer to home!
Location: Varkala Beach, Kerala State, India
Accomplishments: We cycled 130 kilometers/78 miles today from Allepey to Varkala Beach!
Traveling is not always a dreamy vista over a glass of wine. While it is unpredictable, adventurous, and exciting, sometimes those same exact feelings of unpredictability take a negative avenue and they change from excitement to stressful. After a while the unpredictability piece becomes scary and I yearn for the comforts of my own place. Today while cycling the ocean front road through smog and overbearing traffic, dodging rickshaws, bull drawn carts, buses, cars, people everywhere, I miss the regularity and comfort of the Kal-Haven trail and my own street.
At 1:00, we stop at a vegetarian hotel/restaurant for veg thali (veg set meal of the day). I go to wash my hands and I realize that my face and arms are covered in a gray film. The "ocean view road" has turned out to be "smog lane outlined by garbage, factories,and shacks.
Eating lunch, we order a mineral water, and I feel bad for all the plastic bottles that we waste. I think of all the people and each day all the plastic bottles, containers, wrappers, bags, so much we throw away Even though I care, plastic waste and creating garbage is our human way of life and it is so hard to avoid.
Reader, I challenge you to survive one single day without creating any garbage! Try going to the store to purchase anything! Everything comes in a package!
So after a good chai tea and veg curries with rice, we are re-energized. WE face the crazy streets.
8.5 hours total cycling time, we make the last stretch into Varkala. The main road ends into the ocean. Immediately, I feel the salt stick to my already smog-frosted arms. A man in a humble tea stall says,
"Hello! You are coming from?"
"America!" I say.
"Nice! Your good name?"
"Steve and she is Teresa!"
We rest our bikes on the pole outside and enjoy two glasses of cardamom tea.
"You stay here in Varkala today?" he asks
"Yes," I respond.
"Where is a good place?"
"Direct opposite, nice place, nice family and here I can make for you dinner,
Kerala food," he smiles. Then he brings us a photograph of several American people eating in his restaurant.
Even though we are so hot, sweaty, polluted, grimy, and salty, the sea breeze is welcoming. The cardamom milk spice tea is soothing. We look at the lodge next door. It has a beautiful sea view off of a large room for only 500 rupees. The lodge becomes our haven for the next three days. The man next door and his wife become our chefs of masala dosas, parotas, and vegetable curries.
A few moments to remember from Varkala Beach:
1. Sitting on the balcony, we watch the local Indian tourists do religious chants/prayers under umbrellas on the beach.
2. The waves are phenomenally HUGE. They CRASH into the cliffs that slowly feed the land to the hungry sea.
3. We walk along the cliff with an incredible view on the left of the sea and a chain of restaurants and lodges on our right. As Steve and I walk along, I casually make eye-contact with a girl sitting in a cafe.
"Steve, we just passed this girl in that cafe back there and I swear that I know her from somewhere!"
Then like a light-switch it clicks!
"I know! She is the girl that entered Zina Cottages as we were leaving Munnar! Before she was wearing a pink and blue chudidah shirt that I adored! Now she is wearing all black," I say, " I've got an idea! We will walk back slowly. You look at her and tell me if that is her, the girl from Munnar!"
We turn around and in front of the cafe, she waves to us. We walk up to her. A moment's recognition of an acquaintance becomes an hour conversation with a friend. Tanya, as it turns out is from Chicago-- only three hours from our home of Kalamazoo. It's as if we had to travel half way around the world to meet her. Hopefully, we will cross paths again, only this time it will be closer to home!
Canoes and coconuts in Allepey, Kerala, India
Date: July 9, 2009
Location: Sona Heritage Homestay
Accomplishments: Seven hour canoe journey through small canal channals, villages, and rice paddies.
At 10:00 a.m. a man arrives in a flower print skirt on a motor-bike.
"You ready for village tour?" he asks spotting us waiting on the patio.
"Yes!" we reply excitedly, always ready for the adventure to begin. WE follow him for five minutes walking to the end of the narrow road where it meets with the channel-way.
Slim waterways outlined by coconut trees...A strip of colorful houses are held up on a narrow strip of land in between miles of rice paddies and the canal. Its like a neighborhood street, except for instead of a street there is a canal, instead of a car, every family has their own wooden canoe parked on the curb. Women and men
come onto the street-canal way to wash their clothing, bathe, and rush their teeth. Bright blue and green king-fisher birds fly above. Picturesque, I feel like I am on the Discovery Channel or on National Geographic Documentary film!
Location: Sona Heritage Homestay
Accomplishments: Seven hour canoe journey through small canal channals, villages, and rice paddies.
At 10:00 a.m. a man arrives in a flower print skirt on a motor-bike.
"You ready for village tour?" he asks spotting us waiting on the patio.
"Yes!" we reply excitedly, always ready for the adventure to begin. WE follow him for five minutes walking to the end of the narrow road where it meets with the channel-way.
Slim waterways outlined by coconut trees...A strip of colorful houses are held up on a narrow strip of land in between miles of rice paddies and the canal. Its like a neighborhood street, except for instead of a street there is a canal, instead of a car, every family has their own wooden canoe parked on the curb. Women and men
come onto the street-canal way to wash their clothing, bathe, and rush their teeth. Bright blue and green king-fisher birds fly above. Picturesque, I feel like I am on the Discovery Channel or on National Geographic Documentary film!
Welcome to Allepey, Kerala, India!
Date: July 9, 2009
Location: Sona Heritage Home Allepey town, Kerala State, India
Accomplishments: Previous day (June 8) We cycled 30 miles from Kochi to Allepey on NHWAY 47. At first, I was worried about traffic, but the road was wide, divided part of the way and flat-- so it was an easy ride and probably safer than the winding mountain roads that we previously conquered.
"You want boat-house?"
"I have boat-house for you!" When we enter Allepey, it seems as though we have "sucker! I am a push-over! Sell it to me!" signs posted on our backs. Everybody wants to sell us a boat tour. However, being on our bicycles is an easy escape, a saving grace from the heaps of tour vendors. We sail past them. We follow our Lonely Planet Guidebook suggestion and we cycle one kilometer North of town and stay at Sona Heritage Homestay.
A jolly Indian man greets us, welcomes us. He shows us photographs of all the boat tour options from a massive house boats, mini-motor boats, or paddle canoes. He hands me a notebook filled with tourist positive feedback. We sign up for a paddle canoe ride for the next day. Reading the guidebook ahead of time, I learned that the backwaters, streams, and lakes in Allepey are in great danger and are over polluted. Part of the over-pollution is caused by the expansive tours in house boats. Keeping this in mind, I am happy to sign up for the simple canoe with NO motor! We spend the rest of the day cycling around town, sipping chai tea in a restuarant over-looking the foggy ocean. We find an amazing vegetarian restaurant called, "Hot Kitchen," that serves fantastic masala dosas. A masala dosa is a thin crepe filled with potato/onion curry accompanied with coconut chutney and zambar (vegetable okra) sauces.
We go to sleep dreaming of what adventures our canoe village tour will bring!
Location: Sona Heritage Home Allepey town, Kerala State, India
Accomplishments: Previous day (June 8) We cycled 30 miles from Kochi to Allepey on NHWAY 47. At first, I was worried about traffic, but the road was wide, divided part of the way and flat-- so it was an easy ride and probably safer than the winding mountain roads that we previously conquered.
"You want boat-house?"
"I have boat-house for you!" When we enter Allepey, it seems as though we have "sucker! I am a push-over! Sell it to me!" signs posted on our backs. Everybody wants to sell us a boat tour. However, being on our bicycles is an easy escape, a saving grace from the heaps of tour vendors. We sail past them. We follow our Lonely Planet Guidebook suggestion and we cycle one kilometer North of town and stay at Sona Heritage Homestay.
A jolly Indian man greets us, welcomes us. He shows us photographs of all the boat tour options from a massive house boats, mini-motor boats, or paddle canoes. He hands me a notebook filled with tourist positive feedback. We sign up for a paddle canoe ride for the next day. Reading the guidebook ahead of time, I learned that the backwaters, streams, and lakes in Allepey are in great danger and are over polluted. Part of the over-pollution is caused by the expansive tours in house boats. Keeping this in mind, I am happy to sign up for the simple canoe with NO motor! We spend the rest of the day cycling around town, sipping chai tea in a restuarant over-looking the foggy ocean. We find an amazing vegetarian restaurant called, "Hot Kitchen," that serves fantastic masala dosas. A masala dosa is a thin crepe filled with potato/onion curry accompanied with coconut chutney and zambar (vegetable okra) sauces.
We go to sleep dreaming of what adventures our canoe village tour will bring!
miércoles, 5 de agosto de 2009
The ocean is a cemetery
Date: July 7, 2009
Location: Fort Kochin
Accomplishments: We took the ferry to Viplin Island and cycled 20 km to and 20 km return from the beach.
We begin the day with a two minute walk next door to the veg hotel (A hotel is a restaurant NOT a place to stay) for Iddly. Iddly is a common South Indian breakfast of rice dumplings with coconut chutney sauce and sambar curried vegetables.
At 9:00 AM, we pay two rupees each to ride the ferry to he island. The ferry is packed with local people on motorcycles. like sardines, we squish onto the boat. The ride takes only a few minutes. Exiting the ferry onto the island, I am surprised y the hectic traffic. We cycle North on the island through a continuous cloud of smog as rickshaws, buses, motorcycles zoom in front, in back, and around me. Finally after an hour of crazy cycling, battling the traffic, we reach the beach. The ocean is angry. It pounds on the large boulders. The waves are gray. All around, there are disgarded plastic bottles and bags washed up on shore. It looks like a dump. The ocean to me looks like a cancer patient. if we don't save it and find a cure, the ocean will cough itself to death.
Dear readers, please reuse cups. Don't use plastic disposible cups and utencils. so many of them find their cemetary in our vast oceans.
Location: Fort Kochin
Accomplishments: We took the ferry to Viplin Island and cycled 20 km to and 20 km return from the beach.
We begin the day with a two minute walk next door to the veg hotel (A hotel is a restaurant NOT a place to stay) for Iddly. Iddly is a common South Indian breakfast of rice dumplings with coconut chutney sauce and sambar curried vegetables.
At 9:00 AM, we pay two rupees each to ride the ferry to he island. The ferry is packed with local people on motorcycles. like sardines, we squish onto the boat. The ride takes only a few minutes. Exiting the ferry onto the island, I am surprised y the hectic traffic. We cycle North on the island through a continuous cloud of smog as rickshaws, buses, motorcycles zoom in front, in back, and around me. Finally after an hour of crazy cycling, battling the traffic, we reach the beach. The ocean is angry. It pounds on the large boulders. The waves are gray. All around, there are disgarded plastic bottles and bags washed up on shore. It looks like a dump. The ocean to me looks like a cancer patient. if we don't save it and find a cure, the ocean will cough itself to death.
Dear readers, please reuse cups. Don't use plastic disposible cups and utencils. so many of them find their cemetary in our vast oceans.
Exchanging the Mountains for the Sea shore
July 6, 2009
Location: Fort Cochin, Kerala State, India
Accomplishments: We cycled 20 KM from Adimaly mountain town to Fort Cochin on the coast.
Cycling down a large hill in theory sounds easy and relaxing. As we start the journey of exchanging the mountain for the sea shore, we begin a long series of narrow hairpin turns. The scenery is amazing; waterfalls in all directions with the jungle threatening to overtake the road. As much as I want to stare and take in all the sights of scenery, it takes all of my concentration to conrol my bicycle and wind carefully around each turn. It begins raining heavy. Around the next curve, we see that a car has slid off the road. Luckely, it went over where the cliff wasn't too steep. A large truck is pulling it out with a chain. Let this be our lesson to be careful.
And carefully I go. Occasionally a wild bus comes from behind. We pull off on the muddy side, stop, and let it pass. A two way road winding up the mountains, so narrow! When we reach Kothagalomon, we celebrate our skillful ride with Chappati, vegetable curry, and chai tea. From now to teh coast the road will be flat. Flat, but traffic thickens and we find ourselves darting around people, rickshaws, cows, buses--CRAZY! Stop and go, fast and slow. Then all cars and traffic comes to a hault when they have to pay a toll to cross a bridge. A friendly trucker waves for us to pass everyone. We don't have to pay the toll! We are cyclers! Crossing the bridge onto the island of Fort Cochin is easy since the traffic is held back.
Arriving in Cochin, a man on a motorcycle rides along side us.
"You need a place? A room? I have nice clean room. For you only 200 rupees! Please just come and see!"
Initally, I am unsure since the hotel is not in our guidebook.
"Ok! We will have a look," Steve agrees before I can protest.
Just on the edge of town, the man stops in front of a large blue building. He welcomes us and indroduces us to his wife. He shows me the room. It is immaculate! Better yet, right next door is a veg hotel (restaurant, not a place to stay).
I lay here now, comfortable, watching the Discovery channel, reflecting on our accomplishments. Good night! I look forward to exploring the island tomorrow and meeting the sea!
Location: Fort Cochin, Kerala State, India
Accomplishments: We cycled 20 KM from Adimaly mountain town to Fort Cochin on the coast.
Cycling down a large hill in theory sounds easy and relaxing. As we start the journey of exchanging the mountain for the sea shore, we begin a long series of narrow hairpin turns. The scenery is amazing; waterfalls in all directions with the jungle threatening to overtake the road. As much as I want to stare and take in all the sights of scenery, it takes all of my concentration to conrol my bicycle and wind carefully around each turn. It begins raining heavy. Around the next curve, we see that a car has slid off the road. Luckely, it went over where the cliff wasn't too steep. A large truck is pulling it out with a chain. Let this be our lesson to be careful.
And carefully I go. Occasionally a wild bus comes from behind. We pull off on the muddy side, stop, and let it pass. A two way road winding up the mountains, so narrow! When we reach Kothagalomon, we celebrate our skillful ride with Chappati, vegetable curry, and chai tea. From now to teh coast the road will be flat. Flat, but traffic thickens and we find ourselves darting around people, rickshaws, cows, buses--CRAZY! Stop and go, fast and slow. Then all cars and traffic comes to a hault when they have to pay a toll to cross a bridge. A friendly trucker waves for us to pass everyone. We don't have to pay the toll! We are cyclers! Crossing the bridge onto the island of Fort Cochin is easy since the traffic is held back.
Arriving in Cochin, a man on a motorcycle rides along side us.
"You need a place? A room? I have nice clean room. For you only 200 rupees! Please just come and see!"
Initally, I am unsure since the hotel is not in our guidebook.
"Ok! We will have a look," Steve agrees before I can protest.
Just on the edge of town, the man stops in front of a large blue building. He welcomes us and indroduces us to his wife. He shows me the room. It is immaculate! Better yet, right next door is a veg hotel (restaurant, not a place to stay).
I lay here now, comfortable, watching the Discovery channel, reflecting on our accomplishments. Good night! I look forward to exploring the island tomorrow and meeting the sea!
sábado, 18 de julio de 2009
Of rain and goats
Date: July 5, 2009
Location: Adimali (30 km West from Munnar, Kerala State, India) Arafia Tourist Home
I wake up and I hear the pitter patter, pitter patter of rain. I close my eyes and go back to my dream land beneath the covers. At 7:30, tap, tap, tap on the door.
"Morning!" I hear Shahul's voice.
"Yes! We are getting up!" I am now eager to start the day of adventures with our Indian brothers. I want to breathe in deeply, inhale feel, and devour every moment of our friendship, time together, profoundly because I know our paths will not cross together for long.
We begin our day together with tea--Tetly tea. Joseph Iype and his wife join us. Sonu says, "We should weave some plans to meet again." We study the map and even though his town of Mannarkkard was never in OUR plans, it is in the master plan of destiny and it becomes one of the main destinations on our return journey to Bangalore. We agree to be in Mannarkkard on July 24th until July 28th when we will catch a train to Bangalore.
"Let's enjoy the moments together we have in Munnar," I say.
"Let's go to town and enjoy breakfast!" Steve adds, taking the last sip of his tea.
"Ok, we take some photographs first," Sonu suggests.
I take a photograph of Steve with his Indian brothers. Joseph and his wife join in (owners of the cottage). It feels like a family reunion.
We put on our rain pants and jackets and hop on the back of Sonu and Shahul's motorcycles. We go carefully down the dirt muddy hill through the tea plantations. I cling onto Sonu's small frame. We cross a small bridge going through a monster mud puddle. At the paved road, we turn left. We swerve and dart around rick-shaws. We park the motorcycles outside of a hotel. Hotel does NOT mean a place to stay. It means a place to eat. Inside, we sit on plastic chairs and order porota and chickpeas in curry sauce. Porota is a circle shaped doughy bread. Sonu and Shahul laugh at us as we struggle to break apart the bread with only our right hands. I explain to them that in America, if you would eat with your fingers in a restaurant, everyone would stare at you! Indians think it is strange that you would need a fork to eat with. Even though the rain has not stopped, we still climb on the motorcycles. Just five minutes out of town, we are zooming past tea plantations. We go eight kilometers outside of Munnar to the entrance of a National Park. In the National Park, we walk in the clouds where we see a remarkable type of mountain goat that can climb up mountain rock. They are nearly extinct and can only be seen in two places in the world (Munnar, India and New Zealand).
The rain pounds with strength on the pavement, each drop bouncing up and sticking to my shoes.
"What we do next?" Shahul asks.
We all look at one another. Nobody wants to offend the other.
"As you wish," Sonu says, smiling.
"No! As you wish," I respond. A moment of silence passes as we try to read each others minds.
"We can go back to town and have tea!" Steve suggests. Eagerly, we all affirm. Even though we are all Young adventurous spirits, the rain begins to soak through our clothes. We are content to return to town and share cup after cup of tea together.
Coffee and tea are my favorite beverages and they are a great second ingredient to friendship- the first ingredient being love.
Sonu and Shahul-- it is hard to part ways. It is hard to see you go one way on your motorcycles towards Mannarkkad while we go another way towards Kochi. Even harder will be in August when we depart for America and you stay in India. The ocean will separate us, but bigger than the ocean is the blessing to have met you, to become your brother and your sister.
We pedal out of Munnar. Even though the rain is heavy and cold in the mountain air, we feel the warmth of our brotherhood and our memories with you.
We travel thirty kilometers downhill. Our brakes, soaking wet, only slow us down when we grip them. They do not stop us. It is already nearly five o'clock. We stop in this quaint town outlined by mountains and waterfalls.
Sonu once told me while riding the motorcycle together that on Earth we actually have three lives; our life in our mother's womb, our life while being awake, and our life while dreaming in our sleep. I am going to my world of dreams...
W
Location: Adimali (30 km West from Munnar, Kerala State, India) Arafia Tourist Home
I wake up and I hear the pitter patter, pitter patter of rain. I close my eyes and go back to my dream land beneath the covers. At 7:30, tap, tap, tap on the door.
"Morning!" I hear Shahul's voice.
"Yes! We are getting up!" I am now eager to start the day of adventures with our Indian brothers. I want to breathe in deeply, inhale feel, and devour every moment of our friendship, time together, profoundly because I know our paths will not cross together for long.
We begin our day together with tea--Tetly tea. Joseph Iype and his wife join us. Sonu says, "We should weave some plans to meet again." We study the map and even though his town of Mannarkkard was never in OUR plans, it is in the master plan of destiny and it becomes one of the main destinations on our return journey to Bangalore. We agree to be in Mannarkkard on July 24th until July 28th when we will catch a train to Bangalore.
"Let's enjoy the moments together we have in Munnar," I say.
"Let's go to town and enjoy breakfast!" Steve adds, taking the last sip of his tea.
"Ok, we take some photographs first," Sonu suggests.
I take a photograph of Steve with his Indian brothers. Joseph and his wife join in (owners of the cottage). It feels like a family reunion.
We put on our rain pants and jackets and hop on the back of Sonu and Shahul's motorcycles. We go carefully down the dirt muddy hill through the tea plantations. I cling onto Sonu's small frame. We cross a small bridge going through a monster mud puddle. At the paved road, we turn left. We swerve and dart around rick-shaws. We park the motorcycles outside of a hotel. Hotel does NOT mean a place to stay. It means a place to eat. Inside, we sit on plastic chairs and order porota and chickpeas in curry sauce. Porota is a circle shaped doughy bread. Sonu and Shahul laugh at us as we struggle to break apart the bread with only our right hands. I explain to them that in America, if you would eat with your fingers in a restaurant, everyone would stare at you! Indians think it is strange that you would need a fork to eat with. Even though the rain has not stopped, we still climb on the motorcycles. Just five minutes out of town, we are zooming past tea plantations. We go eight kilometers outside of Munnar to the entrance of a National Park. In the National Park, we walk in the clouds where we see a remarkable type of mountain goat that can climb up mountain rock. They are nearly extinct and can only be seen in two places in the world (Munnar, India and New Zealand).
The rain pounds with strength on the pavement, each drop bouncing up and sticking to my shoes.
"What we do next?" Shahul asks.
We all look at one another. Nobody wants to offend the other.
"As you wish," Sonu says, smiling.
"No! As you wish," I respond. A moment of silence passes as we try to read each others minds.
"We can go back to town and have tea!" Steve suggests. Eagerly, we all affirm. Even though we are all Young adventurous spirits, the rain begins to soak through our clothes. We are content to return to town and share cup after cup of tea together.
Coffee and tea are my favorite beverages and they are a great second ingredient to friendship- the first ingredient being love.
Sonu and Shahul-- it is hard to part ways. It is hard to see you go one way on your motorcycles towards Mannarkkad while we go another way towards Kochi. Even harder will be in August when we depart for America and you stay in India. The ocean will separate us, but bigger than the ocean is the blessing to have met you, to become your brother and your sister.
We pedal out of Munnar. Even though the rain is heavy and cold in the mountain air, we feel the warmth of our brotherhood and our memories with you.
We travel thirty kilometers downhill. Our brakes, soaking wet, only slow us down when we grip them. They do not stop us. It is already nearly five o'clock. We stop in this quaint town outlined by mountains and waterfalls.
Sonu once told me while riding the motorcycle together that on Earth we actually have three lives; our life in our mother's womb, our life while being awake, and our life while dreaming in our sleep. I am going to my world of dreams...
W
Sonu and Shahul visit Munnar!
04-07-2009
Location: Munnar, Kerala State, India
BRROOOOOMMMMM!! ZOOOOOOMMMMM!" I stand on my toes and I can see just over the bushes. The rain pelts my rain jacket, but ha ha, it cannot get me wet! As the motor-cycle rounds the corner, I get a good look at the person driving it. "Could it be? Is is Sonu or Shahul?" The face is of an older man and the make if the motor-cycle is wrong. We anxiously await our Indian friends from Mannarkard for over an hour but the rain is getting heavy now.
"Let's go back to the hotel for a bit. We will come back in twenty minutes." Steve suggests.
I eagerly agree to escape the rain.
Just as we begin to climb the muddy road and disappear into the tea plantations towards our Zina Cottage, the cellphone rings. As Murphey's Law would have it, the moment after we leave our perch, our friends arrive!
We run down the hill and splash right through the puddles to embrace our dear friends. I am so happy to see them and to know that they arrived safely after such a long journey!
"How long did it take you?" I ask Sonu.
He counts on his fingers and then, "Nine hours, but it is worth it! We enjoy the adventure of motor-cycling!" Sonu replies.
----- Our friends Sonu and Shahul, rode their motor-cyles from their small city of Mannarkadd to Munnar to build our friendshp. We invited them to stay with us and REALLY enjoyed their company. Hours of walking, talking over chai, and motor-cycling to the National park where the mountain goat is famous-- Adventures together made our friendship grow. Just before departing, Sonu asked if he could write his account of our time together in my journal so I will allow him to narrarate our tale through his perspective :)
04-July-2009
Saturday
Today I and Shahul started the journey at 3:50 a.m. Yesterday we didn't sleep at all. I was getting ready to come and see my Steve and Teresa. My mom and papa and everybody were happy eventhough they felt little bit scared to send us above to Munnar. Because you are loved not only by me and Shahul but also by my Mom and brother and sister.
Price of petrol is hiked so as a protest against petrol price rising, there is a strike. So, the road was not rush as usual.
We reached Munnar at 2:00. When I saw Steve and Teresa waving their hands towards us, I was filled with some sort of feeling which cannot be expressed in words. We came back to the rooms and had tea.
Today afternoon, we went for walking up to the viewpoint. But Teresa was still interested with walking at a stretch. As far as I am concerned, I don't like walking very much.
As evening onwards,some sort of emotions were trying to conquer me. I asked myself, what it is but little later only I could understand that the emotions was regarding how to leave them and about planning of the coming days.
Today at this night, at right now, I am very very happy (more than you can imagine) because Steve and Teresa confirmed their decision that they will come to Mannarkkad on 24th July. Because if they are coming on 24th, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday I can be with them. Yes, I can be with them! I can be with them! I am not capable ever to just imagine of their departure. I may become mad on that day. I love 24. I hate August 3rd very much. Good Night.
Location: Munnar, Kerala State, India
BRROOOOOMMMMM!! ZOOOOOOMMMMM!" I stand on my toes and I can see just over the bushes. The rain pelts my rain jacket, but ha ha, it cannot get me wet! As the motor-cycle rounds the corner, I get a good look at the person driving it. "Could it be? Is is Sonu or Shahul?" The face is of an older man and the make if the motor-cycle is wrong. We anxiously await our Indian friends from Mannarkard for over an hour but the rain is getting heavy now.
"Let's go back to the hotel for a bit. We will come back in twenty minutes." Steve suggests.
I eagerly agree to escape the rain.
Just as we begin to climb the muddy road and disappear into the tea plantations towards our Zina Cottage, the cellphone rings. As Murphey's Law would have it, the moment after we leave our perch, our friends arrive!
We run down the hill and splash right through the puddles to embrace our dear friends. I am so happy to see them and to know that they arrived safely after such a long journey!
"How long did it take you?" I ask Sonu.
He counts on his fingers and then, "Nine hours, but it is worth it! We enjoy the adventure of motor-cycling!" Sonu replies.
----- Our friends Sonu and Shahul, rode their motor-cyles from their small city of Mannarkadd to Munnar to build our friendshp. We invited them to stay with us and REALLY enjoyed their company. Hours of walking, talking over chai, and motor-cycling to the National park where the mountain goat is famous-- Adventures together made our friendship grow. Just before departing, Sonu asked if he could write his account of our time together in my journal so I will allow him to narrarate our tale through his perspective :)
04-July-2009
Saturday
Today I and Shahul started the journey at 3:50 a.m. Yesterday we didn't sleep at all. I was getting ready to come and see my Steve and Teresa. My mom and papa and everybody were happy eventhough they felt little bit scared to send us above to Munnar. Because you are loved not only by me and Shahul but also by my Mom and brother and sister.
Price of petrol is hiked so as a protest against petrol price rising, there is a strike. So, the road was not rush as usual.
We reached Munnar at 2:00. When I saw Steve and Teresa waving their hands towards us, I was filled with some sort of feeling which cannot be expressed in words. We came back to the rooms and had tea.
Today afternoon, we went for walking up to the viewpoint. But Teresa was still interested with walking at a stretch. As far as I am concerned, I don't like walking very much.
As evening onwards,some sort of emotions were trying to conquer me. I asked myself, what it is but little later only I could understand that the emotions was regarding how to leave them and about planning of the coming days.
Today at this night, at right now, I am very very happy (more than you can imagine) because Steve and Teresa confirmed their decision that they will come to Mannarkkad on 24th July. Because if they are coming on 24th, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday I can be with them. Yes, I can be with them! I can be with them! I am not capable ever to just imagine of their departure. I may become mad on that day. I love 24. I hate August 3rd very much. Good Night.
viernes, 17 de julio de 2009
Hillside walk/Roller-Coaster Bus in Munnar
July 3, 2009
Location: Munnar, Kerala State, India, Zina Cottage
All night, we hear the rain hammering on the roof. Then early morning, the sun calms it down and the rain hovers in a mist cloud over the valley.
"What will you do?" Joseph Iype asks as we sip on morning tea.
"Maybe we will go walking," I suggest.
"Yes, madam, I can draw you a map. 17 kilometers, you can walk and see all the tea, cardomom spices, pepper spices, and coffee. Then you can take the bus to return. Have another cup of tea first, Madam."
We walk down the hill and enjoy Idly set (rice dumplings) in curry, okra sauce for breakfast. The waiter is polite and calls us "Sir" and "Madam." Since British English is spoken here, everyone addresses us as Sir and Madam. The Idlys power us up for the hills on our walk and indeed we can see miles and miles of tea plantations from the quiet narrow country road. Banana plants, spice bushes, jack fruit trees, and coconut trees line the road. We are lost in the scenery for hours. When it rains, our rain pants and jackets keep us dry from the Monsoon.
After walking for 17 kilometers through the valley, we reach the main road in Anachal. In just ten minutes, a bus comes roaring up the hill and we hop on to return to Munnar. For only one second, I relax in one of the front seats. Then the driver wildly roars up and around each hairpin turn up the mountain. I nearly fall out of my seat on several occasions. I clench onto Steve's arm. The driver honks as we near a curve. The road is only wide enough for one vehicle. Even though we can not see around the mountain, he roars the engine. Suddenly, he hammers the brake, as an oncoming bus is directly in front of us. The drivers stare at each other momentarily until they creep around each other with only an inch to spare in between them and an inch on the side of the cliff!
When we reach Munnar, I jump off the bus before completely reaching town. Enough wild roller-coaster bus ride for me!
When we arrive back at Zina Cottage, after our long walk/short roller-coaster adventure, Joseph makes us tea with cardamom spice. The same spice that we observed growing on the hillside is now warming our bodies. Then there is a knock at the door. A rick-shaw driver appears at the door with two shivering tourists!
"We are Mike and Di from New York!"
Finally!!! We meet other tourists! We are so excited to unite with people from our own culture! Tomorrow we look forward to having breakfast together. We hope also that our friends Sonu and Shahul will arrive safely from Mannarkadd.
We are blessed with the company who once strangers now feel like brothers and sisters. To all, PEACE!
Location: Munnar, Kerala State, India, Zina Cottage
All night, we hear the rain hammering on the roof. Then early morning, the sun calms it down and the rain hovers in a mist cloud over the valley.
"What will you do?" Joseph Iype asks as we sip on morning tea.
"Maybe we will go walking," I suggest.
"Yes, madam, I can draw you a map. 17 kilometers, you can walk and see all the tea, cardomom spices, pepper spices, and coffee. Then you can take the bus to return. Have another cup of tea first, Madam."
We walk down the hill and enjoy Idly set (rice dumplings) in curry, okra sauce for breakfast. The waiter is polite and calls us "Sir" and "Madam." Since British English is spoken here, everyone addresses us as Sir and Madam. The Idlys power us up for the hills on our walk and indeed we can see miles and miles of tea plantations from the quiet narrow country road. Banana plants, spice bushes, jack fruit trees, and coconut trees line the road. We are lost in the scenery for hours. When it rains, our rain pants and jackets keep us dry from the Monsoon.
After walking for 17 kilometers through the valley, we reach the main road in Anachal. In just ten minutes, a bus comes roaring up the hill and we hop on to return to Munnar. For only one second, I relax in one of the front seats. Then the driver wildly roars up and around each hairpin turn up the mountain. I nearly fall out of my seat on several occasions. I clench onto Steve's arm. The driver honks as we near a curve. The road is only wide enough for one vehicle. Even though we can not see around the mountain, he roars the engine. Suddenly, he hammers the brake, as an oncoming bus is directly in front of us. The drivers stare at each other momentarily until they creep around each other with only an inch to spare in between them and an inch on the side of the cliff!
When we reach Munnar, I jump off the bus before completely reaching town. Enough wild roller-coaster bus ride for me!
When we arrive back at Zina Cottage, after our long walk/short roller-coaster adventure, Joseph makes us tea with cardamom spice. The same spice that we observed growing on the hillside is now warming our bodies. Then there is a knock at the door. A rick-shaw driver appears at the door with two shivering tourists!
"We are Mike and Di from New York!"
Finally!!! We meet other tourists! We are so excited to unite with people from our own culture! Tomorrow we look forward to having breakfast together. We hope also that our friends Sonu and Shahul will arrive safely from Mannarkadd.
We are blessed with the company who once strangers now feel like brothers and sisters. To all, PEACE!
martes, 7 de julio de 2009
Elephants and Aliens
Date: July 2, 2009
Time: 10:00 p.m. Indian Time
Location: Zina Cottage, Munnar, Kerala State, India
Accomplishments: 70 k.m. from Munnar town to top station view point
The monsoon arrived today and it stayed. Heavy rain that does not stop. Once and a while it takes a break and becomes a gentle mist, then it returns to full force, pounding on the glass windows. We awake to the song of a bird that sounds like a human whistle and of course the rain. We have tea with Joseph Iype while we wait for the rain to give clear skies a chance to shine. At 9:00, we realize that the rain has come to accompany us wherever we go today. we decide to cycle to town and buy rain suits (plastic jacket and pants). We cycle up through the gentle hills with the rain knocking, pounding on our wet suits. It does not penetrate through our rain gear. Because we know that the tea and the people depend on the rain, we accept and welcome it. We cycle all the way to the top station view point on the border of two states (Kerala and Tamil Nadu). The views are breathe-taking. On the way back, a forest guard stops us an says, "Elephant!" Even though it is raining, the elephants come out to eat. At first, they look like large boulders in the distance. Then I see the large trunk move and indeed there are two elephants-- a mother and a baby! A funny joke-- while we are "Sight-seeing," the Indian people are also "sight-seeing." We stare and marvel at the views, endless rolling tea plantations, brown monkeys playing in the trees, the elephants grazing in the distance... The Indians stare and marvel at the aliens on space-ship bicycles, crazily cycling in the monsoon. Every little while, a car or a motorcycle stops. At first a shy smile, then "Please, photograph?" On at least four separate occasions, we are asked if we will pose for a photograph.
An all day cycling adventure and the winning favorite moment of the day is seeing the elephants while riding down the road on my bicycle! We end the day with a hot bucket shower and hot tea. Then at 8:30 p.m., we turn on the television and Muhsin, the guy we met in Manarkadd, is singing! He is singing in an American Idol style television reality show. Although I cannot understand a word, the song is beautiful!
Time: 10:00 p.m. Indian Time
Location: Zina Cottage, Munnar, Kerala State, India
Accomplishments: 70 k.m. from Munnar town to top station view point
The monsoon arrived today and it stayed. Heavy rain that does not stop. Once and a while it takes a break and becomes a gentle mist, then it returns to full force, pounding on the glass windows. We awake to the song of a bird that sounds like a human whistle and of course the rain. We have tea with Joseph Iype while we wait for the rain to give clear skies a chance to shine. At 9:00, we realize that the rain has come to accompany us wherever we go today. we decide to cycle to town and buy rain suits (plastic jacket and pants). We cycle up through the gentle hills with the rain knocking, pounding on our wet suits. It does not penetrate through our rain gear. Because we know that the tea and the people depend on the rain, we accept and welcome it. We cycle all the way to the top station view point on the border of two states (Kerala and Tamil Nadu). The views are breathe-taking. On the way back, a forest guard stops us an says, "Elephant!" Even though it is raining, the elephants come out to eat. At first, they look like large boulders in the distance. Then I see the large trunk move and indeed there are two elephants-- a mother and a baby! A funny joke-- while we are "Sight-seeing," the Indian people are also "sight-seeing." We stare and marvel at the views, endless rolling tea plantations, brown monkeys playing in the trees, the elephants grazing in the distance... The Indians stare and marvel at the aliens on space-ship bicycles, crazily cycling in the monsoon. Every little while, a car or a motorcycle stops. At first a shy smile, then "Please, photograph?" On at least four separate occasions, we are asked if we will pose for a photograph.
An all day cycling adventure and the winning favorite moment of the day is seeing the elephants while riding down the road on my bicycle! We end the day with a hot bucket shower and hot tea. Then at 8:30 p.m., we turn on the television and Muhsin, the guy we met in Manarkadd, is singing! He is singing in an American Idol style television reality show. Although I cannot understand a word, the song is beautiful!
Mountains and Munnar
Date: July 1, 2009
Time: 8:30 p.m. Indian time
Location: Zina Cottates, Munnar, Kerala India
The road clings to the ridge of the mountain. We follow it as if it was a ribbon wrapped around the mountain which is a gift from God. The gentle climb rewards us with majestic views of the valley. The tea plantations paint the hills in an endless shade of green. Soon we are in the clouds. A gentle mist makes the uphill climb bearable. We battle the hill/mountains for 30 kilometers before we conquer it. We are rewarded with a winding descend through the clouds and into Munnar. Entering Munnar, it begins to rain heavy. We pull into a restaurant.
I order, "Veg meal!" the Hindi set meal of the day. In minutes, the waiter places a large banana leaf in front of me and globs rice, curry, hot peppers, and bean and okra salad on top of the banana leaf. I use my right hand to mix the vegetable curries and the rice together and scoop it into my mouth. Together, we study the Lonely Planet Guidebook for ideas of where to stay. A description of Zina Cottage captures my interest.
"Nestled in the tea plantations...just outside of town..."
The rain lets up briefly and we cycle at first down the main road. It forks in several directions and we get lost in all the turns until we find a Kerala tourist information store.
"Where is Zina Cottage?" Steve asks a helpful lady inside. She calls Zina Cottage for us. The lady at Zina Cottage answers the phone and is very welcoming.
"You are from America! You must come and visit us! We will have a room waiting for you! We are directly opposite the Hill view Hotel."
We cycle onward. The rain begins again. We reach Hill View Hotel, and we do not see anything in front of it. We turn around and take another fork in the road. Still no Zina Cottage anywhere! The rain is heavy now. Combined with the altitude, the rain is cold and sends by body into shivers. Finally, we ask somebody on the street, "Where is Zina Cottage?" A friendly man points up a small rocky road leading into a tea plantation.
"I sure hope this is worth it, after getting soaked in the heavy rain and cycling in circles looking for it!" I exclaim, walking my bicycle up a steep grade. Finally, we see it! A small building with Zina painted on it and an old man waiting outside, waving wildly at us.
"Welcome!" he says, "Come, come. You are the Americans! We were worried about you! We thought you would come in Auto rickshaw! My name is Joseph Iype. You must come inside for some tea."
A warm welcome of tea, hot bucket shower, smiles, beautiful views of the tea plantations, a great dinner of gobi manchurian and roti--- Munnar is everything and more than we had hoped for it to be!
Thank you, Iype and your wife for your wonderful hospitality and welcome!
Time: 8:30 p.m. Indian time
Location: Zina Cottates, Munnar, Kerala India
The road clings to the ridge of the mountain. We follow it as if it was a ribbon wrapped around the mountain which is a gift from God. The gentle climb rewards us with majestic views of the valley. The tea plantations paint the hills in an endless shade of green. Soon we are in the clouds. A gentle mist makes the uphill climb bearable. We battle the hill/mountains for 30 kilometers before we conquer it. We are rewarded with a winding descend through the clouds and into Munnar. Entering Munnar, it begins to rain heavy. We pull into a restaurant.
I order, "Veg meal!" the Hindi set meal of the day. In minutes, the waiter places a large banana leaf in front of me and globs rice, curry, hot peppers, and bean and okra salad on top of the banana leaf. I use my right hand to mix the vegetable curries and the rice together and scoop it into my mouth. Together, we study the Lonely Planet Guidebook for ideas of where to stay. A description of Zina Cottage captures my interest.
"Nestled in the tea plantations...just outside of town..."
The rain lets up briefly and we cycle at first down the main road. It forks in several directions and we get lost in all the turns until we find a Kerala tourist information store.
"Where is Zina Cottage?" Steve asks a helpful lady inside. She calls Zina Cottage for us. The lady at Zina Cottage answers the phone and is very welcoming.
"You are from America! You must come and visit us! We will have a room waiting for you! We are directly opposite the Hill view Hotel."
We cycle onward. The rain begins again. We reach Hill View Hotel, and we do not see anything in front of it. We turn around and take another fork in the road. Still no Zina Cottage anywhere! The rain is heavy now. Combined with the altitude, the rain is cold and sends by body into shivers. Finally, we ask somebody on the street, "Where is Zina Cottage?" A friendly man points up a small rocky road leading into a tea plantation.
"I sure hope this is worth it, after getting soaked in the heavy rain and cycling in circles looking for it!" I exclaim, walking my bicycle up a steep grade. Finally, we see it! A small building with Zina painted on it and an old man waiting outside, waving wildly at us.
"Welcome!" he says, "Come, come. You are the Americans! We were worried about you! We thought you would come in Auto rickshaw! My name is Joseph Iype. You must come inside for some tea."
A warm welcome of tea, hot bucket shower, smiles, beautiful views of the tea plantations, a great dinner of gobi manchurian and roti--- Munnar is everything and more than we had hoped for it to be!
Thank you, Iype and your wife for your wonderful hospitality and welcome!
The tiger didn't eat me!
Date: June 30, 2009
Location: Chandana Residency, Marayoor
Accomplishments: We cycled from Udamalpet up into the mountains 45 kilometers to Marayoor.
Leaving Udamalpet, the smog and hustle and bustle of a town disappears within a mile of cycling. The road narrows. At first we glide easily through dry cactis, desert terrain. Rice paddies crackle. They are parched and dehydrated. It makes me sad. Here, Honduras, Nicaragua, Thailand, Cambodia, Malaysia, all over the world we see climate change affecting the amount of rainfall. It begins to cause food shortage in poverty areas. I wonder, will it cause world wide water and food shortage in the future?
Soon, our narrow road winds gently into the hills.
"Annamadai Tiger Reserve," A sign reads.
Curve after cactus, no towns, no people.
"Steve, what if a tiger comes out and eats me?" I ask, suddenly a bit frightened now that all the towns have disappeared.
"Tamil is famous for its tigers," Steve teases me.
I pedal faster, as fast as I can until the mountain traps me in first gear, sweat dripping into my eye.
A road sign announces some strange character symbol and 4.
I eagerly pedal four kilometers to reach the unknown destination. I am illiterate, but at least the numbers are universal. The brush on the left side of the road rustles and breaks open. I cringe, bracing myself for a tiger to pounce. A peacock with bright blue and green feathers flutters across the road. After a four kilometer climb, we read a forest check point with a forest office/cafeteria building. We stop for a cup of chai tea. The ranger welcomes us to the state of Kerala/leaving the state of Tamil Nadu.
For a moment, I rejoice that I have survived the tiger reserve. Then a sign welcomes us to "Chinnar Wildlife Reserve," and reads, "Be cautious of elephants-- Drive Slow."
The ascends seem endless. Every time a tree moves, I now wait for a large elephant to thrust itself into my path and grab me bicycle and all with its enormous trunk.
A man rests on the roadside, gazing into the valley.
"Hi!" I greet him as I crawl up the hill.
"Bla...blaaa..blaa...blaaaa..elephant!" he says, pointing into the valley below the road. We stop and are so excited to spot a wild elephant eating grass down in the valley.
Needless to say, I survived half the mountain ride to Munnar without being devoured by a tiger or elephant. Now it is my time to devour a very spicy, chilly gobi with Parota (doughy bread) to celebrate my survival.
Location: Chandana Residency, Marayoor
Accomplishments: We cycled from Udamalpet up into the mountains 45 kilometers to Marayoor.
Leaving Udamalpet, the smog and hustle and bustle of a town disappears within a mile of cycling. The road narrows. At first we glide easily through dry cactis, desert terrain. Rice paddies crackle. They are parched and dehydrated. It makes me sad. Here, Honduras, Nicaragua, Thailand, Cambodia, Malaysia, all over the world we see climate change affecting the amount of rainfall. It begins to cause food shortage in poverty areas. I wonder, will it cause world wide water and food shortage in the future?
Soon, our narrow road winds gently into the hills.
"Annamadai Tiger Reserve," A sign reads.
Curve after cactus, no towns, no people.
"Steve, what if a tiger comes out and eats me?" I ask, suddenly a bit frightened now that all the towns have disappeared.
"Tamil is famous for its tigers," Steve teases me.
I pedal faster, as fast as I can until the mountain traps me in first gear, sweat dripping into my eye.
A road sign announces some strange character symbol and 4.
I eagerly pedal four kilometers to reach the unknown destination. I am illiterate, but at least the numbers are universal. The brush on the left side of the road rustles and breaks open. I cringe, bracing myself for a tiger to pounce. A peacock with bright blue and green feathers flutters across the road. After a four kilometer climb, we read a forest check point with a forest office/cafeteria building. We stop for a cup of chai tea. The ranger welcomes us to the state of Kerala/leaving the state of Tamil Nadu.
For a moment, I rejoice that I have survived the tiger reserve. Then a sign welcomes us to "Chinnar Wildlife Reserve," and reads, "Be cautious of elephants-- Drive Slow."
The ascends seem endless. Every time a tree moves, I now wait for a large elephant to thrust itself into my path and grab me bicycle and all with its enormous trunk.
A man rests on the roadside, gazing into the valley.
"Hi!" I greet him as I crawl up the hill.
"Bla...blaaa..blaa...blaaaa..elephant!" he says, pointing into the valley below the road. We stop and are so excited to spot a wild elephant eating grass down in the valley.
Needless to say, I survived half the mountain ride to Munnar without being devoured by a tiger or elephant. Now it is my time to devour a very spicy, chilly gobi with Parota (doughy bread) to celebrate my survival.
Hospitality, A visit with an Indian Family
Date: June 29, 2009
Time: 9:30 p.m. Indian Time
Location: Hotel in Udumalaippetai
Accomplishments: We cycled 77 km. from Palakadd to Udulmaippettai. A man, Sasidharam, invited us to a school and to his house for tea, masala dosa, and coconut stew.
At 10:00 a.m, the sun is frying us like eggs over easy. We are now only fifteen kilometers from the state border of Tamil Nadu in the hot lowlands between two mountain ranges. A man riding a motorcycle pulls to ride beside us.
"Hello!" he greets us with a smile. "Where are you from?" he asks.
"We are from America!"
"What is your name?" he asks
"I am Steve and she is Teresa."
"What do you do? Your job?"
"I am a farmer of goats, making cheese. She is a teacher," Steve replies.
"I am a teacher! Please come. Please come to my school. I want to show the students American people."
"I would love to! I am a teacher and I love to see students!" I reply enthusiastically.
"Thank you! Thank you! Please follow me. Only 1 kilometer from here," Sasidharam says.
He rides slowly on his motorcycle and we soon take a left onto a narrow quiet road. An arch welcomes us to an open school. The children are between the ages of five and nine. They swarm around us, buzzing with curiosity.
"How are you?" they ask.
"I am fine, thank you!" I reply, again and again. My response sends them into a bout of shy laughter.
"What is your name?" they ask.
We take photographs together. Sasidharam shows me a newspaper article in malayaram (mother tongue). I laugh as I cannot understand a word or a character.
"What is the first article talking about?" I ask pointing to the bold characters at the top.
"It says for the first time, the monsoon is not coming. There is climate change. All the farmers have a difficult time. The rice is dry. In June, July, all the years there is heavy rain all the day. Now, there is no rain."
The article reminds me of the situation in Honduras, when there too, the rainy season does not come like it used to and people are suffering without their usual bean and corn crop.
"You like tea? Something to eat? Masala Dosa?" he asks.
"Tea is ok, but we already eat," we reply.
"You please come to my house. You will see my wife and daughter."
The children and the other teachers wave good-bye. "Tata! Bye, bye!" The children wave.
Once again, we caravan, motorcycle leading us and just around the corner, Sasidharam leads us to his house where his wife and eldest daughter greet us.
"We are so happy to have you as a guest. You are welcome in our house."
In minutes, Sasidharam's wife brings us chai tea and two heaping plates of masala dosas with coconut chutney.
Even though we say we are full, she insists that we eat.
We show them our Indian map and explain how we have cycled from Bangalore to Mysore to Madikeri and South. They are fascinated with our adventure.
Neena, Sasidharam's wife brings out several photograph albums. Even though she struggles with her English, she is able to tell me about the photographs.
"House warming ceremony... wedding..."
Sasidharam makes a call on his cell phone. We hear him excitedly talk in his native language. We understand three words: Americans, cycle, and Bangalore, from his conversation.
Then surprisingly, he passes the cellphone to Steve. "My cousin," he says, "U.S.A"
Sasidharam's cousin, we learn, speaks fluent English and is working in Detroit for a Ford Contractor.
Wow! The world is small and we really are so connected to one another.
The family gifts us with a figurine elephant as a symbol of Hindi for best wishes. I am astounded by their warming hospitality.
We enjoy our two hour visit with them, sharing photographs.
"Please, you can come back and you are always welcome to stay."
Sasidharam, thank you for inviting us into your school and your home.
The visit with Sasidharam leaves us with a warm feeling as we pedal onward towards Udumalaippettai. All day, we feel loved as Shahul and Sonu leave several text messages and call to wish us a safe, careful journey. Good night, Sweet Dreams!
To the reader, may you be blessed with the warmth of friendship today in whatever form, shape, or color it may come. Accept it, let it be, and hold it close as life's most precious gift.
Time: 9:30 p.m. Indian Time
Location: Hotel in Udumalaippetai
Accomplishments: We cycled 77 km. from Palakadd to Udulmaippettai. A man, Sasidharam, invited us to a school and to his house for tea, masala dosa, and coconut stew.
At 10:00 a.m, the sun is frying us like eggs over easy. We are now only fifteen kilometers from the state border of Tamil Nadu in the hot lowlands between two mountain ranges. A man riding a motorcycle pulls to ride beside us.
"Hello!" he greets us with a smile. "Where are you from?" he asks.
"We are from America!"
"What is your name?" he asks
"I am Steve and she is Teresa."
"What do you do? Your job?"
"I am a farmer of goats, making cheese. She is a teacher," Steve replies.
"I am a teacher! Please come. Please come to my school. I want to show the students American people."
"I would love to! I am a teacher and I love to see students!" I reply enthusiastically.
"Thank you! Thank you! Please follow me. Only 1 kilometer from here," Sasidharam says.
He rides slowly on his motorcycle and we soon take a left onto a narrow quiet road. An arch welcomes us to an open school. The children are between the ages of five and nine. They swarm around us, buzzing with curiosity.
"How are you?" they ask.
"I am fine, thank you!" I reply, again and again. My response sends them into a bout of shy laughter.
"What is your name?" they ask.
We take photographs together. Sasidharam shows me a newspaper article in malayaram (mother tongue). I laugh as I cannot understand a word or a character.
"What is the first article talking about?" I ask pointing to the bold characters at the top.
"It says for the first time, the monsoon is not coming. There is climate change. All the farmers have a difficult time. The rice is dry. In June, July, all the years there is heavy rain all the day. Now, there is no rain."
The article reminds me of the situation in Honduras, when there too, the rainy season does not come like it used to and people are suffering without their usual bean and corn crop.
"You like tea? Something to eat? Masala Dosa?" he asks.
"Tea is ok, but we already eat," we reply.
"You please come to my house. You will see my wife and daughter."
The children and the other teachers wave good-bye. "Tata! Bye, bye!" The children wave.
Once again, we caravan, motorcycle leading us and just around the corner, Sasidharam leads us to his house where his wife and eldest daughter greet us.
"We are so happy to have you as a guest. You are welcome in our house."
In minutes, Sasidharam's wife brings us chai tea and two heaping plates of masala dosas with coconut chutney.
Even though we say we are full, she insists that we eat.
We show them our Indian map and explain how we have cycled from Bangalore to Mysore to Madikeri and South. They are fascinated with our adventure.
Neena, Sasidharam's wife brings out several photograph albums. Even though she struggles with her English, she is able to tell me about the photographs.
"House warming ceremony... wedding..."
Sasidharam makes a call on his cell phone. We hear him excitedly talk in his native language. We understand three words: Americans, cycle, and Bangalore, from his conversation.
Then surprisingly, he passes the cellphone to Steve. "My cousin," he says, "U.S.A"
Sasidharam's cousin, we learn, speaks fluent English and is working in Detroit for a Ford Contractor.
Wow! The world is small and we really are so connected to one another.
The family gifts us with a figurine elephant as a symbol of Hindi for best wishes. I am astounded by their warming hospitality.
We enjoy our two hour visit with them, sharing photographs.
"Please, you can come back and you are always welcome to stay."
Sasidharam, thank you for inviting us into your school and your home.
The visit with Sasidharam leaves us with a warm feeling as we pedal onward towards Udumalaippettai. All day, we feel loved as Shahul and Sonu leave several text messages and call to wish us a safe, careful journey. Good night, Sweet Dreams!
To the reader, may you be blessed with the warmth of friendship today in whatever form, shape, or color it may come. Accept it, let it be, and hold it close as life's most precious gift.
Sonu's thoughts on meeting us
An overnight stay in Mannarkadd ended up turning into a five day stay. Friendship presented itself beautifully in our path and we enjoyed every moment of it. We will forever remember our adventures with Sonu, Shahul, and Muhsin-- meeting their families, walking along the river, skipping stones, motorcycling up into the Silent Valley Jungle... On the last day of our visit, Sonu noticed my journal/notebook. He asked if he could write in it. "Of course! I would love to have you write from your perspective about meeting us!"
From Sonu--
24-June-2009
Wednesday
It was a good night for Muhsin, Shahul and I. We were coming to Silent Valley Hotel to eat broast(roasted chicken). That's the only hotel where broast is available. But when I entered the hotel, suddenly my eyes struck on Steve and Teresa. I felt little bit shy to speak because of thinking how to introduce myself to them, whether you feel any kind of disturbance to you.
"I would like to meet people who from different country and different culture."
This sentence was the very beginning of our brotherly relationship. When I started speaking to you, I could feel that you are very friendly and loving. Almost three hours we spent with you.
25-June-2009
Thursday
The previous day I invited them to M Three Spoken English class. I felt glad to invite you. For Maria Louis and for all the students we gave a surprise.
28-June-2009
Sunday
Time: 8:19 p.m.
Shahul is complaining me to stop writing due to the lack of time. I really really felt so happy to take you both with me. I feel that you are my elder brother and sister. We love you both so much. We love you so much. We feel really heart sending pain in my heart. I hope see you at Munnar on this coming Friday or Saturday. We feel that we have spent years with you even though we spent five days. Love you so much! Sonu
From Sonu--
24-June-2009
Wednesday
It was a good night for Muhsin, Shahul and I. We were coming to Silent Valley Hotel to eat broast(roasted chicken). That's the only hotel where broast is available. But when I entered the hotel, suddenly my eyes struck on Steve and Teresa. I felt little bit shy to speak because of thinking how to introduce myself to them, whether you feel any kind of disturbance to you.
"I would like to meet people who from different country and different culture."
This sentence was the very beginning of our brotherly relationship. When I started speaking to you, I could feel that you are very friendly and loving. Almost three hours we spent with you.
25-June-2009
Thursday
The previous day I invited them to M Three Spoken English class. I felt glad to invite you. For Maria Louis and for all the students we gave a surprise.
28-June-2009
Sunday
Time: 8:19 p.m.
Shahul is complaining me to stop writing due to the lack of time. I really really felt so happy to take you both with me. I feel that you are my elder brother and sister. We love you both so much. We love you so much. We feel really heart sending pain in my heart. I hope see you at Munnar on this coming Friday or Saturday. We feel that we have spent years with you even though we spent five days. Love you so much! Sonu
lunes, 6 de julio de 2009
Arranged Marriages
Date: June 25, 2009
Location: Spring Valley Hotel, Mannarkadd, Kerala, India
Accomplishments: We visited a school, met Sonu's mother, brother Soni, sister Sona, and Shahul's mother. We rode motorcycles!
We enjoy a few masala dosas with pea masala then we wait outside our hotel. Sonu and Shahul pull up to our hotel as promised at 9:00. Chai tea is a warm beginning to our day together. Sonu and Shahul ride their motorcycles. We follow behind on our bicycles. The English school is only two kilometers up the hill. The English school is tucked inside a building on the main vein going through town. We ride the motorbikes/bicycles through the building and park them behind the building. Following Sonu and Shahul up the stairs, I feel a bit of anxiety in my stomach. i know that in just moments, the students will enter and I will feel my own uniqueness in their culture. Being inside myself, I easily forget how much I stand out. Sonu and Shahul tell us to wait as they want us to surprise the director. They tell her about our arrival in mother tongue and she beams when we enter her office. Her English is fluent and easy to understand. She informs us that she learned English in London and speaks nine languages.
"The students are interested with you. Please speak with them. Have them practice their English." I turn around and I see that I am surrounded. Little by little, the students arrive, piling in the director's office to take a peak at us (the strange aliens that landed randomly in their school). I feel like a normal boring average American girl, but to them, I am strange. I cannot imagine how I make them feel. I wonder how they perceive me through their eyes. I would like to be one of the school girls just for a day, just to feel, see, be her, in her culture to understand it. The director invites us to come and sit in the front of the classroom. All the girls sit together on two long benches in the front of the classroom. The boys sit together or stand in the back of the room. All of them are young adults or teenagers. I feel a little anxious in front of the classroom with so many eyes on me, but soon my teacher mode is turned on and I easily and slowly explain in clear English where I am traveling to. I talk about my daily life as a teacher. The director compliments me on my beautiful accent and asks me to say all the months and days of the week. I am glad to be of help and I have the students repeat me. Next, she encourages the students to ask us questions.
"What are your favorite foods in America?"
"America is a big mixture of cultures, There are hamburgers, Italian foods like spaghetti and pizzas, Chinese foods, noodles, rice, Mexican tacos... There is even Indian food! In Michigan the fruits are very different. Here, In Kerala India, you have many mangoes, bananas, coconuts. In Michigan, we do not have these growing from the trees because these fruits need tropical weather to grow. In Michigan, we have apples, cherries, grapes, strawberries, and peaches. We have all these that we can pick from the trees. The fruits I very different," I explain.
"Is there a caste system? What is the marriage arrangement and ceremony like?" a girl asks.
"In America, our culture is different," I begin to explain, "Marriage is not arranged. There is no caste system. We can pick who we want to marry by dating and having a girlfriend or boyfriend."
"Whooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!" the students clamor as if I had stated a swear word.
"We feel that Americans have many divorces and that children are not loyal and united with their family," a boy comments.
"Sometimes this is true,"I reply.
"In India, the marriage commitment is forever. The two families are joined and they will help the couple stay together," another boy adds.
Dear reader, please see the link below about advantages and disadvantages to arranged marriages and freedom of choice marriages. The conversation with the students about marriages prompted me to research more in depth on the internet and the article has great insight into the faults of both cultures.
http://berchmans.tripod.com/arrange.html
As a teacher, one of the greatest pleasures of traveling is seeing children in the schools and how the schools and how they learn.
Thank you so much, Sonu and Shahul for sharing your classroom with us and reaching out to us. You are giving us a little piece of your culture. Is is a priceless gift that will stay in our memories forever.
Location: Spring Valley Hotel, Mannarkadd, Kerala, India
Accomplishments: We visited a school, met Sonu's mother, brother Soni, sister Sona, and Shahul's mother. We rode motorcycles!
We enjoy a few masala dosas with pea masala then we wait outside our hotel. Sonu and Shahul pull up to our hotel as promised at 9:00. Chai tea is a warm beginning to our day together. Sonu and Shahul ride their motorcycles. We follow behind on our bicycles. The English school is only two kilometers up the hill. The English school is tucked inside a building on the main vein going through town. We ride the motorbikes/bicycles through the building and park them behind the building. Following Sonu and Shahul up the stairs, I feel a bit of anxiety in my stomach. i know that in just moments, the students will enter and I will feel my own uniqueness in their culture. Being inside myself, I easily forget how much I stand out. Sonu and Shahul tell us to wait as they want us to surprise the director. They tell her about our arrival in mother tongue and she beams when we enter her office. Her English is fluent and easy to understand. She informs us that she learned English in London and speaks nine languages.
"The students are interested with you. Please speak with them. Have them practice their English." I turn around and I see that I am surrounded. Little by little, the students arrive, piling in the director's office to take a peak at us (the strange aliens that landed randomly in their school). I feel like a normal boring average American girl, but to them, I am strange. I cannot imagine how I make them feel. I wonder how they perceive me through their eyes. I would like to be one of the school girls just for a day, just to feel, see, be her, in her culture to understand it. The director invites us to come and sit in the front of the classroom. All the girls sit together on two long benches in the front of the classroom. The boys sit together or stand in the back of the room. All of them are young adults or teenagers. I feel a little anxious in front of the classroom with so many eyes on me, but soon my teacher mode is turned on and I easily and slowly explain in clear English where I am traveling to. I talk about my daily life as a teacher. The director compliments me on my beautiful accent and asks me to say all the months and days of the week. I am glad to be of help and I have the students repeat me. Next, she encourages the students to ask us questions.
"What are your favorite foods in America?"
"America is a big mixture of cultures, There are hamburgers, Italian foods like spaghetti and pizzas, Chinese foods, noodles, rice, Mexican tacos... There is even Indian food! In Michigan the fruits are very different. Here, In Kerala India, you have many mangoes, bananas, coconuts. In Michigan, we do not have these growing from the trees because these fruits need tropical weather to grow. In Michigan, we have apples, cherries, grapes, strawberries, and peaches. We have all these that we can pick from the trees. The fruits I very different," I explain.
"Is there a caste system? What is the marriage arrangement and ceremony like?" a girl asks.
"In America, our culture is different," I begin to explain, "Marriage is not arranged. There is no caste system. We can pick who we want to marry by dating and having a girlfriend or boyfriend."
"Whooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!" the students clamor as if I had stated a swear word.
"We feel that Americans have many divorces and that children are not loyal and united with their family," a boy comments.
"Sometimes this is true,"I reply.
"In India, the marriage commitment is forever. The two families are joined and they will help the couple stay together," another boy adds.
Dear reader, please see the link below about advantages and disadvantages to arranged marriages and freedom of choice marriages. The conversation with the students about marriages prompted me to research more in depth on the internet and the article has great insight into the faults of both cultures.
http://berchmans.tripod.com/arrange.html
As a teacher, one of the greatest pleasures of traveling is seeing children in the schools and how the schools and how they learn.
Thank you so much, Sonu and Shahul for sharing your classroom with us and reaching out to us. You are giving us a little piece of your culture. Is is a priceless gift that will stay in our memories forever.
jueves, 25 de junio de 2009
Strangers become brothers
Date: Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Location: Spring Valley Hotel, Mannarkkad, Kerala State, India
Accomplishments: We cycled 80 miles from Gudalur to Mannarkkad, India
It has been a long day. We finally thrust the last drop of energy over one final hill-- the last two kilometers and suddenly the green painted hills give way to a congested artery of a town. It is 4:35 p.m. I let me bicycle come to a stop at the first hotel that I see. A large clean building with a sign that advertises, "Spring Valley, Rooms A.C. and Non A.C." My legs are tight and my butt hurts badly from the seat. It looks as though somebody spray painted my back with mud. I lean into my bicycle while Steve goes inside to inquire about the price. The hotel looks like a really fancy hotel from the outside. I hold my breathe until Steve returns with good news. "Only 500 rupees a night!" he announces (ten dollars).
In minutes, we are tossing buckets of water onto ourselves, removing the spray-paint of mud. I lay on the bed. After a long day, and so many other days with no other tourists in sight, I feel lonely. I begin to miss home and friendship. "Why are we here, so far away?" I feel for a moment that everyone here is so different from me. At 7:30 p.m, we walk downstairs to the hotel restaurant. We sit in a booth against the wall and order vegetable curry, roti, and rice. I notice a group of three teenage boys that enter the restaurant. As usual, they stare at us and then converse in their mother tongue. I am surprised when they approach us.
"Do you mind if we sit to talk with you? We love to learn about foreigners and their places. I am Sonu. He is Shahul, and he is Muhsin." Sonu shakes our hands warmly.
I compliment Sonu on his English.
"It is because I am an English teacher. Maybe you would like to come and see my school tomorrow where I teach," Sonu offers,
Sonu's friend, Shahul is his student. Their friend Muhsin shares his exciting news that he will be on the Indian version of American Idol on July 2nd at 8:30 p.m.
We show them our India maps and explain to them our travel plans.
I ask if they are married of have girlfriends. They giggle and reply that it is badly perceived to have a girlfriend. here they don't see the girl until it is arranged by their family.
"When I want to marry, I tell my family and they maybe will have an agency find a girl for me. It is arranged and both families prepare for the big celebration. It will be a special day for the two families to unite."
Sonu, Shahul, and Muhsin are very curious about our lives at home and our marriage life. When we tell them that we met in highschool, they are surpised that our marriage was not arranged. They ask if we dishonored our family by being girlfriend and boyfriend and marrying each other. We explain that in our culture, dating and having girlfriends and boyfriends is acceptable.
"You want to meet our families?" Sonu offers, "Maybe you can stay in Mannarkadd, visit my school, meet our families. you can see and learn about our culture. We have Saturday and Sunday free. We can take you to see many places."
Steve's eyes meet mine. Originally, we had planned to get in a lot of miles tomorrow to Palakadd and South bound to the more touristy areas in hopes of connecting with more tourists.
Through our eyes, we connect. In silent agreement, we agree that it is important to really know the culture rather than to make miles.
"Yeah," Steve says.
"Yeah," I add, "It sounds like a good idea."
"We would love to meet your family,"Steve adds.
"And meet your students. It would be a pleasure."
A town that we thought we would just stay in for a night and pass through becomes a destination.
Sonu, Shahul, and Muhsin, It is a pleasure meeting you. We look forward to meeting your families and making you a part of our journey in India, in life!
And so destiny has it that my loneliness is dissolved. Strangers become acquaintances. Acquaintances become friends. Friends become brothers.
Location: Spring Valley Hotel, Mannarkkad, Kerala State, India
Accomplishments: We cycled 80 miles from Gudalur to Mannarkkad, India
It has been a long day. We finally thrust the last drop of energy over one final hill-- the last two kilometers and suddenly the green painted hills give way to a congested artery of a town. It is 4:35 p.m. I let me bicycle come to a stop at the first hotel that I see. A large clean building with a sign that advertises, "Spring Valley, Rooms A.C. and Non A.C." My legs are tight and my butt hurts badly from the seat. It looks as though somebody spray painted my back with mud. I lean into my bicycle while Steve goes inside to inquire about the price. The hotel looks like a really fancy hotel from the outside. I hold my breathe until Steve returns with good news. "Only 500 rupees a night!" he announces (ten dollars).
In minutes, we are tossing buckets of water onto ourselves, removing the spray-paint of mud. I lay on the bed. After a long day, and so many other days with no other tourists in sight, I feel lonely. I begin to miss home and friendship. "Why are we here, so far away?" I feel for a moment that everyone here is so different from me. At 7:30 p.m, we walk downstairs to the hotel restaurant. We sit in a booth against the wall and order vegetable curry, roti, and rice. I notice a group of three teenage boys that enter the restaurant. As usual, they stare at us and then converse in their mother tongue. I am surprised when they approach us.
"Do you mind if we sit to talk with you? We love to learn about foreigners and their places. I am Sonu. He is Shahul, and he is Muhsin." Sonu shakes our hands warmly.
I compliment Sonu on his English.
"It is because I am an English teacher. Maybe you would like to come and see my school tomorrow where I teach," Sonu offers,
Sonu's friend, Shahul is his student. Their friend Muhsin shares his exciting news that he will be on the Indian version of American Idol on July 2nd at 8:30 p.m.
We show them our India maps and explain to them our travel plans.
I ask if they are married of have girlfriends. They giggle and reply that it is badly perceived to have a girlfriend. here they don't see the girl until it is arranged by their family.
"When I want to marry, I tell my family and they maybe will have an agency find a girl for me. It is arranged and both families prepare for the big celebration. It will be a special day for the two families to unite."
Sonu, Shahul, and Muhsin are very curious about our lives at home and our marriage life. When we tell them that we met in highschool, they are surpised that our marriage was not arranged. They ask if we dishonored our family by being girlfriend and boyfriend and marrying each other. We explain that in our culture, dating and having girlfriends and boyfriends is acceptable.
"You want to meet our families?" Sonu offers, "Maybe you can stay in Mannarkadd, visit my school, meet our families. you can see and learn about our culture. We have Saturday and Sunday free. We can take you to see many places."
Steve's eyes meet mine. Originally, we had planned to get in a lot of miles tomorrow to Palakadd and South bound to the more touristy areas in hopes of connecting with more tourists.
Through our eyes, we connect. In silent agreement, we agree that it is important to really know the culture rather than to make miles.
"Yeah," Steve says.
"Yeah," I add, "It sounds like a good idea."
"We would love to meet your family,"Steve adds.
"And meet your students. It would be a pleasure."
A town that we thought we would just stay in for a night and pass through becomes a destination.
Sonu, Shahul, and Muhsin, It is a pleasure meeting you. We look forward to meeting your families and making you a part of our journey in India, in life!
And so destiny has it that my loneliness is dissolved. Strangers become acquaintances. Acquaintances become friends. Friends become brothers.
Cycling narrow mountain roads
Date: June 21, 2009
Accomplishments: We cycled 50 miles uphill from Madikeri to Ponnampet
Date: June 22, 2009 Ponnampet to Sultan Bathany Estimated 50 miles
Imagine the celery flats trail or a narrow paved trail like you would see in a park for walkers. It has more potholes than pavement. Rather than only walkers and joggers, buses, jeeps, motorcycles, cars, carts, cows, rickshaws and two crazy Americans on bicycles ind up and down through the jungle from town to town on the narrow road. Each side of the trail/road is hugged by bamboo shoots. An occasional monkey howls and swings on a branch. Occasionally, the road branches off like two narrow roots of a tree, each winding its way through the jungle. We follow one south, miles and miles when we finally ask a man for directions. He points behind us. We are lost in the Indian jungle, 15 miles out of the way!
Spicy curries,
towering bamboo
potholes strung together
wild buses that race around corners
horns that belong in a circus
women in bright beautiful sarees
This is my flavor of India
I am safe now. I have found my way to a comfy bed, bucket shower in the Regency Hotel, Sultan Bathany. The bicycles are relaxing. The legs are resting, until tomorrow when we will work together bicycle and body to crawl up and fly down the hills.
Date: June 23, 2009
Location: Hotel on a bustling crazy street in Gudalur, India
Accomplishments: We cycled 25 miles mostly up hill! from Sultan Bathani to Gudalur
Beautiful views, through the valley,
rising hills,
ascends without end that twist up the mountain,
coffee on my right and tea on my left,
surrounded by my favorite beverages,
cycling through green balanced by the blue skies
Accomplishments: We cycled 50 miles uphill from Madikeri to Ponnampet
Date: June 22, 2009 Ponnampet to Sultan Bathany Estimated 50 miles
Imagine the celery flats trail or a narrow paved trail like you would see in a park for walkers. It has more potholes than pavement. Rather than only walkers and joggers, buses, jeeps, motorcycles, cars, carts, cows, rickshaws and two crazy Americans on bicycles ind up and down through the jungle from town to town on the narrow road. Each side of the trail/road is hugged by bamboo shoots. An occasional monkey howls and swings on a branch. Occasionally, the road branches off like two narrow roots of a tree, each winding its way through the jungle. We follow one south, miles and miles when we finally ask a man for directions. He points behind us. We are lost in the Indian jungle, 15 miles out of the way!
Spicy curries,
towering bamboo
potholes strung together
wild buses that race around corners
horns that belong in a circus
women in bright beautiful sarees
This is my flavor of India
I am safe now. I have found my way to a comfy bed, bucket shower in the Regency Hotel, Sultan Bathany. The bicycles are relaxing. The legs are resting, until tomorrow when we will work together bicycle and body to crawl up and fly down the hills.
Date: June 23, 2009
Location: Hotel on a bustling crazy street in Gudalur, India
Accomplishments: We cycled 25 miles mostly up hill! from Sultan Bathani to Gudalur
Beautiful views, through the valley,
rising hills,
ascends without end that twist up the mountain,
coffee on my right and tea on my left,
surrounded by my favorite beverages,
cycling through green balanced by the blue skies
Enjoying the journey!
Date: June 20, 2009
Time: 9:18 p.m. Indian time
Location: New Paris Restaurant in Madikeri, Karnataka India, drinking hot lemon tea
Accomplishments: 1 km climb to Raj Seat view of the city. 8 km to and 8 km return from Abbey Falls, rest from the bicycle!
I feel the soft hand of the wind on my shoulder. A gentle mist from the gray cloud floating by. I wonder, "Is this the beginning of the monsoon? Later in July will the rain be harsh and angry?" Bright green leaves of the coffee bushes outline the road. The leaves are so bright, they look like the plastic leaves on artificial plants. On the ground, pink polka-dot plants that I would find at a florist shop make a carpet. The background is a painting by a famous painter of a valley and green mountains. We walk for miles, talking about where we think the journey of life will take us. Maybe someday we will hike in the jungles of Borneo, Malaysia. We never know. As a teenager in high school reading the CITY OF JOY never did I imagine that I would someday be cycling around India. The end of our walk uphill brings us to Abbey falls. They are beautiful and breathtaking, but even more memorable--the journey itself and the views.
Then a rickshaw driver offers us a ride back to the town of Madikeri.
"No thank you," we say politely.
Five minutes up the road, he is waiting and again asks, "You want a ride? I take you. Rain is coming!"
"No thank you," we say this time more firmly.
He drives off, but not for long. The rain comes and it is a gentle mist.
Again, the rickshaw is waiting, "Rain is here. I can take you!"
"NO THANK YOU! Good-bye," we say firmly.
The rain does come, but we enjoy our journey and each and every flower and coffee plant on the way. We hope you enjoy your journey today, wherever it may take you!
Time: 9:18 p.m. Indian time
Location: New Paris Restaurant in Madikeri, Karnataka India, drinking hot lemon tea
Accomplishments: 1 km climb to Raj Seat view of the city. 8 km to and 8 km return from Abbey Falls, rest from the bicycle!
I feel the soft hand of the wind on my shoulder. A gentle mist from the gray cloud floating by. I wonder, "Is this the beginning of the monsoon? Later in July will the rain be harsh and angry?" Bright green leaves of the coffee bushes outline the road. The leaves are so bright, they look like the plastic leaves on artificial plants. On the ground, pink polka-dot plants that I would find at a florist shop make a carpet. The background is a painting by a famous painter of a valley and green mountains. We walk for miles, talking about where we think the journey of life will take us. Maybe someday we will hike in the jungles of Borneo, Malaysia. We never know. As a teenager in high school reading the CITY OF JOY never did I imagine that I would someday be cycling around India. The end of our walk uphill brings us to Abbey falls. They are beautiful and breathtaking, but even more memorable--the journey itself and the views.
Then a rickshaw driver offers us a ride back to the town of Madikeri.
"No thank you," we say politely.
Five minutes up the road, he is waiting and again asks, "You want a ride? I take you. Rain is coming!"
"No thank you," we say this time more firmly.
He drives off, but not for long. The rain comes and it is a gentle mist.
Again, the rickshaw is waiting, "Rain is here. I can take you!"
"NO THANK YOU! Good-bye," we say firmly.
The rain does come, but we enjoy our journey and each and every flower and coffee plant on the way. We hope you enjoy your journey today, wherever it may take you!
Cycling from Mysore to Madikeri
Date: Friday June 19,2009
Location: Green Hotel, Madikeri, State of Karnataka India
Accomplishments: We rode 85 miles from Mysore to Madikeri! We left the city and flat rolling farms for the climbing hills!
Change is always everywhere and forever. It is in people from birth to baby to child to adult. It is in a seed of grass. I plant it and water it. I stand watching the vacant dirt. Minute after minute goes by and I feel that the seed will never sprout. However, in every second ever so small, change is happening in the seed and before long, it will sprout. As if by magic, a few days later there is a small blade o grass that multiplies into two blades of grass and finally a patch of grass.
Change is the scenery/landscape between Mysore and Madikeri 85 miles later. We leave at 6:30 a.m. hoping to avoid the mob of Indian traffic. However, the rickshaws, buses, taxis, and school children are already awake and zooming about. We maneuver around in and out of the city. Every so subtle, the big buildings and smog cannot keep up with our pedaling. Flat countryside, cows pulling wooden carts...We glide easily on the paved road in and out of a mobbed pueblo. Then the road is narrow. There are more potholes than pavement. The road begins to wind up, up, and up some more. My energetic legs become heavy and sore. The sun takes a nap behind the darkness of clouds. It rains and the drops pat my back. The road continues to wind upward. Then just when I think I cannot pump my bike, packs, and body up one more hill, the rural road curves down, down, down into a small but overcrowded crazy town of MADIKERI. A large lime green building with red trim called GREEN HOTEL becomes our home. I am so happy to have a bucket shower. I am looking forward to the change of replenishing my body and becoming strong again, ready to battle and conquer the next hills another day.
Location: Green Hotel, Madikeri, State of Karnataka India
Accomplishments: We rode 85 miles from Mysore to Madikeri! We left the city and flat rolling farms for the climbing hills!
Change is always everywhere and forever. It is in people from birth to baby to child to adult. It is in a seed of grass. I plant it and water it. I stand watching the vacant dirt. Minute after minute goes by and I feel that the seed will never sprout. However, in every second ever so small, change is happening in the seed and before long, it will sprout. As if by magic, a few days later there is a small blade o grass that multiplies into two blades of grass and finally a patch of grass.
Change is the scenery/landscape between Mysore and Madikeri 85 miles later. We leave at 6:30 a.m. hoping to avoid the mob of Indian traffic. However, the rickshaws, buses, taxis, and school children are already awake and zooming about. We maneuver around in and out of the city. Every so subtle, the big buildings and smog cannot keep up with our pedaling. Flat countryside, cows pulling wooden carts...We glide easily on the paved road in and out of a mobbed pueblo. Then the road is narrow. There are more potholes than pavement. The road begins to wind up, up, and up some more. My energetic legs become heavy and sore. The sun takes a nap behind the darkness of clouds. It rains and the drops pat my back. The road continues to wind upward. Then just when I think I cannot pump my bike, packs, and body up one more hill, the rural road curves down, down, down into a small but overcrowded crazy town of MADIKERI. A large lime green building with red trim called GREEN HOTEL becomes our home. I am so happy to have a bucket shower. I am looking forward to the change of replenishing my body and becoming strong again, ready to battle and conquer the next hills another day.
martes, 23 de junio de 2009
Sharing chai tea and sharing friendship
Date: June 18, 2009
Time: 6:57 p.m. India time
Location: In a veg restaurant ordering chai tea
Accomplishments at a glance: Sight-seeing summer palace, Chamundi Hill, Mysore Palace, with John Veith and his driver Manju
I am already half way finished with a tall glass of hot chai tea and my canvas of a story is still empty. I want so badly to show you and to take you with me on my cycling adventure in India rather than just tell you about the events in a boring blog.
I could start off be describing the events of waking up, eating breakfast, but these are all everyday tasks. People really are people all over the world. One thing that I sometimes forget is that the Indians are just as curious about me as I am of them. Sometimes I have Steve pose and I don't actually take a picture of him. I take a picture just to the right of him of a few ladies walking in their beautiful sarees (local bright colored dresses). I want to capture them in my photograph to share with others.
I am walking on Gandhi Square just a block from our hotel with Steve and John who arrived from Bangalore with his driver Manju to spend the day with us. A man dressed in white and a red Hindi dot on his forehead approaches me. "Excuse me, please," he says, touching my arm lightly. At first, I am confused and a bit alarmed.
"No rickshaw. I have driver coming," John exclaims, assuming that the man must want to offer taxi or rickshaw.
"Just a moment," the man continues and he flashes his cell phone on photograph mode. It clicks in my mind simultaneously as his cell phone clicks.
"Yes," I say, "No problem. You may have photograph." Then suddenly, the men seem to multiply into about ten. They gather around me taking turns taking photographs with me. I feel like a famous celebrity with Steve and John as my body guards.
In the summer palace about 15 km outside of Mysore, Steve and John marvel at the paintings of the Indian Sultans and war artifacts. I am absorbed in the flowing sarees and the woman's bright apparel. To my surprise, one of the women tugs at my arm and shows me her camera. I respond by showing her my camera. We both smile. About ten Indian women surround me and our husbands take our photographs. We giggle like middle school girls. A true culture exchange of photographs, smiles, laughter, and a moment of crossing each other's paths.
Crossing paths, walking the same journey together--sharing is beauty in life. Sometimes I ask myself, "What is life? What is the purpose of life?" I ask those big questions sometimes while I cycle for hours on the winding road. The answer for me is LOVE. Loving strangers, loving strangers that become acquaintances, loving acquaintances that become friends, loving friends that travel the journey with you.
Time: 6:57 p.m. India time
Location: In a veg restaurant ordering chai tea
Accomplishments at a glance: Sight-seeing summer palace, Chamundi Hill, Mysore Palace, with John Veith and his driver Manju
I am already half way finished with a tall glass of hot chai tea and my canvas of a story is still empty. I want so badly to show you and to take you with me on my cycling adventure in India rather than just tell you about the events in a boring blog.
I could start off be describing the events of waking up, eating breakfast, but these are all everyday tasks. People really are people all over the world. One thing that I sometimes forget is that the Indians are just as curious about me as I am of them. Sometimes I have Steve pose and I don't actually take a picture of him. I take a picture just to the right of him of a few ladies walking in their beautiful sarees (local bright colored dresses). I want to capture them in my photograph to share with others.
I am walking on Gandhi Square just a block from our hotel with Steve and John who arrived from Bangalore with his driver Manju to spend the day with us. A man dressed in white and a red Hindi dot on his forehead approaches me. "Excuse me, please," he says, touching my arm lightly. At first, I am confused and a bit alarmed.
"No rickshaw. I have driver coming," John exclaims, assuming that the man must want to offer taxi or rickshaw.
"Just a moment," the man continues and he flashes his cell phone on photograph mode. It clicks in my mind simultaneously as his cell phone clicks.
"Yes," I say, "No problem. You may have photograph." Then suddenly, the men seem to multiply into about ten. They gather around me taking turns taking photographs with me. I feel like a famous celebrity with Steve and John as my body guards.
In the summer palace about 15 km outside of Mysore, Steve and John marvel at the paintings of the Indian Sultans and war artifacts. I am absorbed in the flowing sarees and the woman's bright apparel. To my surprise, one of the women tugs at my arm and shows me her camera. I respond by showing her my camera. We both smile. About ten Indian women surround me and our husbands take our photographs. We giggle like middle school girls. A true culture exchange of photographs, smiles, laughter, and a moment of crossing each other's paths.
Crossing paths, walking the same journey together--sharing is beauty in life. Sometimes I ask myself, "What is life? What is the purpose of life?" I ask those big questions sometimes while I cycle for hours on the winding road. The answer for me is LOVE. Loving strangers, loving strangers that become acquaintances, loving acquaintances that become friends, loving friends that travel the journey with you.
Good people, good karma
Date: June 17, 2009
Time: Reflecting on the day at 10:00 p.m. Indian time
Location: In a quaint hotel in the central of Mysore
Walking outside in the afternoon, the sun is like a stove burner on high, and it fries our white skin well, over-done. We don't stay refreshed long! Steve poses and I take his picture. I cannot help but notice how much he stands out. Strangely, the only foreigner I have seen is Steve! An Indian man approaches us and asks, "Where are you from?"
"America!" I reply.
"What is your good name?" he asks.
"Teresa and he is Steve. What is your name?"
"Samir!"
"Nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you, Samir."
"Where are you going?" he asks.
"We are walking to the market."
"How long are you in India," Samir inquires.
...and so we tell Samir our story of arriving to Bangalore and cycling to Mysore. His eyes grow wide and he smiles.
"How do you like India?"
"I love it! The people are so friendly. We love the vegetarian food. The country is so beautiful."
"Thank you!"
"Are you from Mysore?" I inquire, "What do you do?"
"I am a sports teacher for small children. I was born in Mysore," Samir informs us.
Bright colored decorations outline the entrance to a building. "It is a wedding," Samir remarks, noting my interest. "You like to enter?" he asks.
"Sure!" I reply. He leads us inside the banquet hall. Eyes turn away from the bride and groom on the steps and on us. I get the alien landing feeling. For just a moment I feel scared, sad for crashing the wedding. Then, a man smiles and grabs our hands. he pulls us forward and in moments we find ourselves on the stage standing next to the bride and groom. At first, I am shocked and I don't know what to say. Then, easily, it comes to me. "Congratulations!" I say to the groom on the right side of me while camera flashes go off, "Your wife is beautiful. Good luck!"
"Thank you! Thank you," he replies with a smile. The bride and groom both shake our hands. The smiles of acceptance feel warm and welcoming. Then, the same man that led us on stage, leads us to a separate room and demands that we sit down for some Indian sweets and bananas. Never would I have guessed that I would crash a wedding in India!
Samir joins us for sweets and bananas. "You like the wedding?" he asks.
"Yes, very much. Very beautiful!"
"I am married for two months," he offers.
Next, Samir leads us down the street a couple of blocks and then enters a small dwelling and we follow him inside. "Here is a wood carving place. You can see the men carving! Mysore is famous for the wood carving!" A long hallway opens into a room full of wood chips where two men sit at tables chipping away at an intricate design by hand. I take their picture. Samir holds up a carved elephant. It requires so much patience.
Outside the wood carving shop, Samir explains that he knows a friend that extracts oil from flowers and wants to know if we would like to visit him.
"Mysore is famous for four things, the beautiful palace, the wood carvings, the herbal oils and incense,and the silks. I will take you to see all of them. I like to take you. It brings me good karma, you know."
Samir darts into another small dwelling. I can smell the burning of sandalwood incense. An Indian man with a round face welcomes us with a smile and chai tea.
"Welcome," he says.
Samir explains that we are from America and that we are cycling through South India.
"You know, we like bicycle. It is different from other tourists. You are like the real people. We respect you. Welcome to India."
He beckons me to put my arm out and lets me sample all the oils from Lotus extract, rose extract, and jasmine extract. All have a distinct use. Some are used to reduce stress or headache. Others are used to inhale for a cold or sickness. We are there for an hour sharing stories, culture, and chai tea.
"Now you know the wood and the oil. You must see the silk of Mysore. I have a good friend. He sews well with the best fabric. It is a government store. You can buy it if you like."
Needless to say, I am enamoured by all the bright colors. The man in the shop measures our arms, necks, waist, legs, thighs and so forth. Steve orders a pair of dress pants and a dress shirt. I order a saree, a shirt, and pants Indian style!
Thank you, Samir for showing us your city, Mysore and all its inside beauty. May you have good karma!
Time: Reflecting on the day at 10:00 p.m. Indian time
Location: In a quaint hotel in the central of Mysore
Walking outside in the afternoon, the sun is like a stove burner on high, and it fries our white skin well, over-done. We don't stay refreshed long! Steve poses and I take his picture. I cannot help but notice how much he stands out. Strangely, the only foreigner I have seen is Steve! An Indian man approaches us and asks, "Where are you from?"
"America!" I reply.
"What is your good name?" he asks.
"Teresa and he is Steve. What is your name?"
"Samir!"
"Nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you, Samir."
"Where are you going?" he asks.
"We are walking to the market."
"How long are you in India," Samir inquires.
...and so we tell Samir our story of arriving to Bangalore and cycling to Mysore. His eyes grow wide and he smiles.
"How do you like India?"
"I love it! The people are so friendly. We love the vegetarian food. The country is so beautiful."
"Thank you!"
"Are you from Mysore?" I inquire, "What do you do?"
"I am a sports teacher for small children. I was born in Mysore," Samir informs us.
Bright colored decorations outline the entrance to a building. "It is a wedding," Samir remarks, noting my interest. "You like to enter?" he asks.
"Sure!" I reply. He leads us inside the banquet hall. Eyes turn away from the bride and groom on the steps and on us. I get the alien landing feeling. For just a moment I feel scared, sad for crashing the wedding. Then, a man smiles and grabs our hands. he pulls us forward and in moments we find ourselves on the stage standing next to the bride and groom. At first, I am shocked and I don't know what to say. Then, easily, it comes to me. "Congratulations!" I say to the groom on the right side of me while camera flashes go off, "Your wife is beautiful. Good luck!"
"Thank you! Thank you," he replies with a smile. The bride and groom both shake our hands. The smiles of acceptance feel warm and welcoming. Then, the same man that led us on stage, leads us to a separate room and demands that we sit down for some Indian sweets and bananas. Never would I have guessed that I would crash a wedding in India!
Samir joins us for sweets and bananas. "You like the wedding?" he asks.
"Yes, very much. Very beautiful!"
"I am married for two months," he offers.
Next, Samir leads us down the street a couple of blocks and then enters a small dwelling and we follow him inside. "Here is a wood carving place. You can see the men carving! Mysore is famous for the wood carving!" A long hallway opens into a room full of wood chips where two men sit at tables chipping away at an intricate design by hand. I take their picture. Samir holds up a carved elephant. It requires so much patience.
Outside the wood carving shop, Samir explains that he knows a friend that extracts oil from flowers and wants to know if we would like to visit him.
"Mysore is famous for four things, the beautiful palace, the wood carvings, the herbal oils and incense,and the silks. I will take you to see all of them. I like to take you. It brings me good karma, you know."
Samir darts into another small dwelling. I can smell the burning of sandalwood incense. An Indian man with a round face welcomes us with a smile and chai tea.
"Welcome," he says.
Samir explains that we are from America and that we are cycling through South India.
"You know, we like bicycle. It is different from other tourists. You are like the real people. We respect you. Welcome to India."
He beckons me to put my arm out and lets me sample all the oils from Lotus extract, rose extract, and jasmine extract. All have a distinct use. Some are used to reduce stress or headache. Others are used to inhale for a cold or sickness. We are there for an hour sharing stories, culture, and chai tea.
"Now you know the wood and the oil. You must see the silk of Mysore. I have a good friend. He sews well with the best fabric. It is a government store. You can buy it if you like."
Needless to say, I am enamoured by all the bright colors. The man in the shop measures our arms, necks, waist, legs, thighs and so forth. Steve orders a pair of dress pants and a dress shirt. I order a saree, a shirt, and pants Indian style!
Thank you, Samir for showing us your city, Mysore and all its inside beauty. May you have good karma!
sábado, 20 de junio de 2009
Simple pleasures!
Date: June 17, 2009
Time: 10:00 p.m. Indian time
Location: In a quaint hotel in the central of Mysore, India
Accomplishments: We cycled 55 km or 33 miles from Madya to Mysore!
Traveling is so exciting because you really do not have any idea what will happen or what the next corner will look like. At 5:45 a.m. we started our adventure rolling out of bed and refueling our bodies with good old peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. As an American girl, I was sure to hunt down peanut butter, my old stand-by, at a supermarket in Bangalore. Bikes and bodies are ready to pedal and roll by 6:45 a.m.
What is it like pedaling along in South India? A blur of sacred cows, hoking buses, zooming rickshaws, rice, palm trees, and men in motos waving hello. In just a couple of hours, traffic thickens.
Welcome to Maysore, a maze of winding alleys. The maze swallows us. Using our Lonely Planet Guidebook, an X marking the spot of our selected hotel, we untangle the confusion. The huge Mysore Palace is a clue. Since streets are never labeled, we use landmarks to orient ourselves. Fianlly after an hour of circling and roaming the maze of a city, we find it, Dasaprakashi hotel. Only to discover that there are no double beds available. A friendly man over hears our hotel dilemma and offers to show us another cheap but clean hotel only a block away. We follow him and are pleasantly surprised. We make Surya Vatri Nivas Hotel our little home for the next few days.
I love how everything just works out. Life really is like that old grandfather clock, ticking slowely, patiently, consistently and behind the solid face, each gear of the individual effects the other.
Before departing for our India cycling adventure, people asked me, "So where will you stay? What is your plan?"
"I am not exactly sure." I am only one small gear. I cannot see the great plan, but it is there. It is destiny and it will work itself out tick by tock, moment by moment.
We register our passport numbers and visa numbers at the front desk. We pay 400 rupees (less than $10) and the guard assures us that our bicycles will be safe in the lobby. Upon reaching our clean humble room, the first thing we do is fill up the large plastic bucket with water from the spicket. We use the smaller bucket to toss water onto our sticky sultry bodies. I feel like a child on the beach rinsing myself after making a huge sandcastle.
Refreshed and clean, I ask the man at the receptionist desk where we can find a vegetarian restaurant.
"Anywhere, you can find," he smiles, "To the right is a very good one."
Sure enough, two minutes walking from the hotel, we find the vegetarian restaurant. It is full of local people. They welcome us with a smile and beckon for us to sit down. A waiter comes to our table and says, "Bla, bla, bla, bla!"
Steve and I look at one another, clueless.
"Veg plate?" Steve attempts.
"Bla, bla, bla?" the man replies.
He waits. We wait. Words without meaning, as if he said, "moo," and we said, "meow!"
He smiles shyly. There is a moment of silence and awkwardness. Then the answer comes to me, "Chai tea!" I exclaim.
"Chai tea!" he reconfirms. The man smiles and his eyes sparkle with the accomplishment of understanding, "Yes!"
Whenever in doubt, chai tea is our password to understanding. It is the backbone to culture. It is the building block to breakfast, friendship, relaxation after a long day. Like America and apple pie, England and black tea, India and chai tea balance one another.
We don't give up our quest for food. Just a few blocks down, "Hotel RRR Veg Restaurant," catches our attention.
"Let's give it a try,"Steve suggests.
"It's in English!" I confirm.
We enter and immediatly all the local people stare at the two aliens from space that have mysteriously appeared in their normally lame restaurant. The waiter smiles gently and motions for us to sit down by a table.
"Veg meal," I say clearly and slowly. I stare at the waiter's face for a response and am super delighted when his eyes sparkle.
"Yes!" He confirms.
"Two veg meals," Steve adds.
The waiter returns shortly with two large banana leaves and places them in front of us. Next, he puts a monsterous glob of rice on each banana leaf. Then he globs on serval vegetable curry mixtures around the rice on the banana leaf. No plates, no utensils...We glance around at the local people eating. Their left hands stay on their laps (it is for your bathroom business). Side note: It is not custom to use toilet paper. Beside each toilet, there is a water bucket and a hose. The left hand is used to cleanse your bottom and it is NOT polite to greet people or to eat with the left hand. Everyone uses the right hand to grab the rice and mix it with the various vegetable/bean curries and bring them to your mouth. So in the bathroom, I was a child at play with the buckets. In the restaurant, I am a baby at play with the food. The banana lef is the tray on my high chair! I begin to love the simple culture! I enjoy every bit of my Indian lunch!
Time: 10:00 p.m. Indian time
Location: In a quaint hotel in the central of Mysore, India
Accomplishments: We cycled 55 km or 33 miles from Madya to Mysore!
Traveling is so exciting because you really do not have any idea what will happen or what the next corner will look like. At 5:45 a.m. we started our adventure rolling out of bed and refueling our bodies with good old peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. As an American girl, I was sure to hunt down peanut butter, my old stand-by, at a supermarket in Bangalore. Bikes and bodies are ready to pedal and roll by 6:45 a.m.
What is it like pedaling along in South India? A blur of sacred cows, hoking buses, zooming rickshaws, rice, palm trees, and men in motos waving hello. In just a couple of hours, traffic thickens.
Welcome to Maysore, a maze of winding alleys. The maze swallows us. Using our Lonely Planet Guidebook, an X marking the spot of our selected hotel, we untangle the confusion. The huge Mysore Palace is a clue. Since streets are never labeled, we use landmarks to orient ourselves. Fianlly after an hour of circling and roaming the maze of a city, we find it, Dasaprakashi hotel. Only to discover that there are no double beds available. A friendly man over hears our hotel dilemma and offers to show us another cheap but clean hotel only a block away. We follow him and are pleasantly surprised. We make Surya Vatri Nivas Hotel our little home for the next few days.
I love how everything just works out. Life really is like that old grandfather clock, ticking slowely, patiently, consistently and behind the solid face, each gear of the individual effects the other.
Before departing for our India cycling adventure, people asked me, "So where will you stay? What is your plan?"
"I am not exactly sure." I am only one small gear. I cannot see the great plan, but it is there. It is destiny and it will work itself out tick by tock, moment by moment.
We register our passport numbers and visa numbers at the front desk. We pay 400 rupees (less than $10) and the guard assures us that our bicycles will be safe in the lobby. Upon reaching our clean humble room, the first thing we do is fill up the large plastic bucket with water from the spicket. We use the smaller bucket to toss water onto our sticky sultry bodies. I feel like a child on the beach rinsing myself after making a huge sandcastle.
Refreshed and clean, I ask the man at the receptionist desk where we can find a vegetarian restaurant.
"Anywhere, you can find," he smiles, "To the right is a very good one."
Sure enough, two minutes walking from the hotel, we find the vegetarian restaurant. It is full of local people. They welcome us with a smile and beckon for us to sit down. A waiter comes to our table and says, "Bla, bla, bla, bla!"
Steve and I look at one another, clueless.
"Veg plate?" Steve attempts.
"Bla, bla, bla?" the man replies.
He waits. We wait. Words without meaning, as if he said, "moo," and we said, "meow!"
He smiles shyly. There is a moment of silence and awkwardness. Then the answer comes to me, "Chai tea!" I exclaim.
"Chai tea!" he reconfirms. The man smiles and his eyes sparkle with the accomplishment of understanding, "Yes!"
Whenever in doubt, chai tea is our password to understanding. It is the backbone to culture. It is the building block to breakfast, friendship, relaxation after a long day. Like America and apple pie, England and black tea, India and chai tea balance one another.
We don't give up our quest for food. Just a few blocks down, "Hotel RRR Veg Restaurant," catches our attention.
"Let's give it a try,"Steve suggests.
"It's in English!" I confirm.
We enter and immediatly all the local people stare at the two aliens from space that have mysteriously appeared in their normally lame restaurant. The waiter smiles gently and motions for us to sit down by a table.
"Veg meal," I say clearly and slowly. I stare at the waiter's face for a response and am super delighted when his eyes sparkle.
"Yes!" He confirms.
"Two veg meals," Steve adds.
The waiter returns shortly with two large banana leaves and places them in front of us. Next, he puts a monsterous glob of rice on each banana leaf. Then he globs on serval vegetable curry mixtures around the rice on the banana leaf. No plates, no utensils...We glance around at the local people eating. Their left hands stay on their laps (it is for your bathroom business). Side note: It is not custom to use toilet paper. Beside each toilet, there is a water bucket and a hose. The left hand is used to cleanse your bottom and it is NOT polite to greet people or to eat with the left hand. Everyone uses the right hand to grab the rice and mix it with the various vegetable/bean curries and bring them to your mouth. So in the bathroom, I was a child at play with the buckets. In the restaurant, I am a baby at play with the food. The banana lef is the tray on my high chair! I begin to love the simple culture! I enjoy every bit of my Indian lunch!
viernes, 19 de junio de 2009
We survived our first day of cycling!
Date: June 16, 2009
Time: 8:05 p.m. Indian Time
Location: Sitting in a hotel restaurant waiting for something mysterious to arrive, Hotel Amaravathi just past the Sanjo Hospital)
Accomplishments: We survive our first day of cycling about fifty miles from our drop off point just outside of Bangalore to Mandya, India!
I have trouble sleeping-- my first night of sleeping in this strange country. I still have days and nights mixed up, so I toss and turn. Every little while, I take a peak to see, "Is it daylight yet?" Nope, still dark. I feel Steve reach over and touch my wrist to push the light on my cheapo Meijer watch. "It is five o'clock. One more hour." We roll into one another attempting to turn the switch to life off. However, it seems to switch into the on mode all on its own. "How will cycling be?" I wonder. "Will people be nice and accept me as part of their country, riding past? Will the traffic care for this little white girl cycling slow on the left hand side?" (Yes, they drive on the left hand side."
Then finally, I see it-- a ray of light announcing the arrival of day. I thank the grater spirit for it. Once more chance to participate in this wheel of life, constantly moving, effecting all the lives of others, sending each and every soul in movement in unison like the gears of an old grandfather clock.
At 6:40 a.m. our bicycles are fully dressed with one pack on each side. We officially start our first bike ride in India! We cycling down MG road from our hotel to John's hotel to meet for breakfast! Traffic is light, but already a steady flow with rickshaws, taxis, and buses. My directions say to turn right at Miller Road, but there are no street signs. One road branches into three. I am overwhelmed by the mob of rickshaws. When I am overwhelmed, I act as Forest run and I go, go, go forward!
"I think that we passed it," Steve says.
"I am not sure," I say as I keep pedaling forward.
"How would I know where I am at when there are no road signs!"
After ten more minutes of run Forest run, we stop at an intersection. We agree that three kilometers would not take a half an hour. Definitely, we must have passed John's hotel long ago! A large building labeled "Turf Club" is in our Lonely Planet Guide book and helps us locate ourselves. We circle around and finally at 7:45, we arrive at John's hotel. The guards are ready for us and open the front gate. Two managers of the hotel welcome us and vale park our bicycles. Once again, it is strange to meet John half way around the world, but there we are together drinking mango juice together in his hotel restaurant. We sip on chai tea and mango juice that we will never forget because of the friendship that it represents.
At 8:15, Manju, the driver, arrives in his jeep. We take the tires off the front and the back of the bicycles to make them fit in the back. Traffic is heavy now. Rickshaws swerve between motorcycles. Cars, trucks, and buses HONK HONK HONK. It is an obnoxious conversation of the vehicles translating to, "I am coming! Get out of my way!"
The drive is a blurr of women in bright colored sarees complementing the bright range of green, pink, and blue buildings. I contrast the scenery against the dull beige malls and cookie cutter neighborhoods where everything looks the same in suburbia United States. I take a few photographs through the car window, like a spy. The road splits into Mysore road and the city road. Manju pulls over to the side and John helps us pop on the tires and packs. A few more photographs and at 10:00 we are on our own to conquer each mile and take India as our own experience. While it is not overwhelming, traffic is constant and moderate. Each truck, bus, cart, rickshaw that passes, I see the passengers take a double-take, stretch their head way out to take in an extra long stare at the strange white aliens.
"Hi!" I say.
They respond with a big grin and most often, "Hi, how are you!" A few motorcyclists even slow down to ride beside us. "Where are you from?" They ask.
"America!" I reply.
"Good luck!"
At 11:30, it is time for a break. Everywhere there are Veg Restaurants. We pull off into one, guzzle water and order a couple of chai teas. I casually glance at the pictures we have taken so far and casually take some more photographs of the men curious about our bicycles, touching my bike seat gently and touching the grips of the handlebars.
As we ride again, continue forward, we have an uninvited guest-- the sun! It reaches down from the sky with all its rays to paint us red.
At 3:30, we are over cooked toast. A head-ache has my head on fire. We pull into a nice road-side hotel/restaurant. In exchange for 1,000 rupees (twenty dollars), we have our place of rest with air-conditioning, a large super clean room, and of course, a bucket shower. The mystery of the day has been revealed. The mystery food has arrived-- fresh roti wheat round bread and Dal beans to dip it in. The winning four favorite moments of the day are....
1. Friendship, mango juice, and chai tea equals a great recipe with John this morning
2. If you are traveling with a slow moving cart going the wrong direction on a one way traffic road, how would you avoid getting killed? You could drive with cows pulling you, of course! Cows here are sacred. People are really careful to not hit the cows because if they hit one it could bring them bad karma!
3. The "Hi and Hellos" and kind waves really do motivate us and remind us of the good foundation in people.
4. Arriving at our hotel for the day, feeling the satisfaction of survival of day one!
Time: 8:05 p.m. Indian Time
Location: Sitting in a hotel restaurant waiting for something mysterious to arrive, Hotel Amaravathi just past the Sanjo Hospital)
Accomplishments: We survive our first day of cycling about fifty miles from our drop off point just outside of Bangalore to Mandya, India!
I have trouble sleeping-- my first night of sleeping in this strange country. I still have days and nights mixed up, so I toss and turn. Every little while, I take a peak to see, "Is it daylight yet?" Nope, still dark. I feel Steve reach over and touch my wrist to push the light on my cheapo Meijer watch. "It is five o'clock. One more hour." We roll into one another attempting to turn the switch to life off. However, it seems to switch into the on mode all on its own. "How will cycling be?" I wonder. "Will people be nice and accept me as part of their country, riding past? Will the traffic care for this little white girl cycling slow on the left hand side?" (Yes, they drive on the left hand side."
Then finally, I see it-- a ray of light announcing the arrival of day. I thank the grater spirit for it. Once more chance to participate in this wheel of life, constantly moving, effecting all the lives of others, sending each and every soul in movement in unison like the gears of an old grandfather clock.
At 6:40 a.m. our bicycles are fully dressed with one pack on each side. We officially start our first bike ride in India! We cycling down MG road from our hotel to John's hotel to meet for breakfast! Traffic is light, but already a steady flow with rickshaws, taxis, and buses. My directions say to turn right at Miller Road, but there are no street signs. One road branches into three. I am overwhelmed by the mob of rickshaws. When I am overwhelmed, I act as Forest run and I go, go, go forward!
"I think that we passed it," Steve says.
"I am not sure," I say as I keep pedaling forward.
"How would I know where I am at when there are no road signs!"
After ten more minutes of run Forest run, we stop at an intersection. We agree that three kilometers would not take a half an hour. Definitely, we must have passed John's hotel long ago! A large building labeled "Turf Club" is in our Lonely Planet Guide book and helps us locate ourselves. We circle around and finally at 7:45, we arrive at John's hotel. The guards are ready for us and open the front gate. Two managers of the hotel welcome us and vale park our bicycles. Once again, it is strange to meet John half way around the world, but there we are together drinking mango juice together in his hotel restaurant. We sip on chai tea and mango juice that we will never forget because of the friendship that it represents.
At 8:15, Manju, the driver, arrives in his jeep. We take the tires off the front and the back of the bicycles to make them fit in the back. Traffic is heavy now. Rickshaws swerve between motorcycles. Cars, trucks, and buses HONK HONK HONK. It is an obnoxious conversation of the vehicles translating to, "I am coming! Get out of my way!"
The drive is a blurr of women in bright colored sarees complementing the bright range of green, pink, and blue buildings. I contrast the scenery against the dull beige malls and cookie cutter neighborhoods where everything looks the same in suburbia United States. I take a few photographs through the car window, like a spy. The road splits into Mysore road and the city road. Manju pulls over to the side and John helps us pop on the tires and packs. A few more photographs and at 10:00 we are on our own to conquer each mile and take India as our own experience. While it is not overwhelming, traffic is constant and moderate. Each truck, bus, cart, rickshaw that passes, I see the passengers take a double-take, stretch their head way out to take in an extra long stare at the strange white aliens.
"Hi!" I say.
They respond with a big grin and most often, "Hi, how are you!" A few motorcyclists even slow down to ride beside us. "Where are you from?" They ask.
"America!" I reply.
"Good luck!"
At 11:30, it is time for a break. Everywhere there are Veg Restaurants. We pull off into one, guzzle water and order a couple of chai teas. I casually glance at the pictures we have taken so far and casually take some more photographs of the men curious about our bicycles, touching my bike seat gently and touching the grips of the handlebars.
As we ride again, continue forward, we have an uninvited guest-- the sun! It reaches down from the sky with all its rays to paint us red.
At 3:30, we are over cooked toast. A head-ache has my head on fire. We pull into a nice road-side hotel/restaurant. In exchange for 1,000 rupees (twenty dollars), we have our place of rest with air-conditioning, a large super clean room, and of course, a bucket shower. The mystery of the day has been revealed. The mystery food has arrived-- fresh roti wheat round bread and Dal beans to dip it in. The winning four favorite moments of the day are....
1. Friendship, mango juice, and chai tea equals a great recipe with John this morning
2. If you are traveling with a slow moving cart going the wrong direction on a one way traffic road, how would you avoid getting killed? You could drive with cows pulling you, of course! Cows here are sacred. People are really careful to not hit the cows because if they hit one it could bring them bad karma!
3. The "Hi and Hellos" and kind waves really do motivate us and remind us of the good foundation in people.
4. Arriving at our hotel for the day, feeling the satisfaction of survival of day one!
It is nice to meet you, India!
Date: June 15, 2009
Time: 11:34 p.m. Indian time
Location: Brindavan Hotel on M.G. Road in Bangalore, India
I want you to experience India with me. I want you to see it and feel every flavor of it to the last drop and detail. So I will take you with me. I will paint you a picture with my words spiced with my emotions.
I am here in the mometn when the airplane begins to decend. My eyes are heavy. My mind is finally calm. All the anxiety has been spent. how can this big plane fly through the air, hours and hours over the ocean? Surely, it will just fall out of the sky! I try to remind myself that air travel is the safest form of transport. I know that a person is more likely to have an accident and die on their way to work rather than in an airplane. Yet teh news reports fo the recent Air France flight crash just off the coast of Brazil makes me cringe with fear. Surely, there must have been eager young travelers like ourselves, excited to backpack and spend their summer exploring Brazil on that flight. What terror they must have felt when their plane tumbled and twirled in the air. I cannot imagine. Just the thought of it makes my heart tight and my breath short. My soul cries for those people and even more so for their families that are caught in the should of and could of sorrows.
Really, I am not afraid of the peacefulness of death. Rather, I am afraid of the transition, the terror, and the difficulty of those last moments in life.
So actually, our plane really did not fall out of the sky. Landing! I am so happy to get off the airplane and touch land that I really don't feel the stress and anxiety of meeting India for the first time. As we pass each steward and airline employee, I thank them for the "wonderful" flight. "It is wonderful because we landed," I tell Steve as we laugh half delerious and loopy with jello bodies.
Off the massive airplane, the two hundred plus passengers form a mob of a line. "What is this for?" I wonder outloud. We peer over all the short local Indian people and see four health specialists putting a thermometer into the ear of each arriving person. Then, we see the sign and are given documents to sign regarding the swine flu. I fill out the mandatory survey and sign that I do not have a temperature and have NOT had any symtoms of the flu inthe past twenty-four hours. After the swine flu temperature check and documentation, the line forms once again for a security check.
At 4:40 a.m. local Indian time, I take off my shoes and belt to show that I am indeed not bringing in any bombs. Finally, we pass the swine flu and security checks. We wait anxiously for our cardboard boxes to appear. The conveyor belt seems to be constipated . The mob of 200 arriving passengers eagerly search for their suitcases or duffel bags. Finally a 1/2 hour later we greet our big boxes with hugs, grasping them firmly to place them all on the cart.
We THINK we are headed out the front doors of the airport when an immigration officer stops us.
"What is in the box?" he asks.
"Bicyle" I reply.
"What will you do with bicycle" he demands
"We are excited to bicycle from here to the southern most tip of India"
"Where will you start" he asks confused.
"Here in Bangalore" I re-state.
His eyes grow wide
"How much is bicycle? You have receipt for purchase of bicyle?" He seems confused
"I have no receipt, but I have a route map." I show him our map of where we plan to go. Finally he takes a closer look. He smiles, "I never know anybody that do this," he says, and then, "Good luck! Take care!"
At 5:50, we walk out the doors of the airport and India welcomes us with a pink sunrise outlined by silver clouds...and Manju! Manju is our driver that John set up for us. He is holding a sign "Mr. Steve and Mrs Teresa Cavanagh" He immediatly recognizes us with our large boxes. We immediately connect with Manju and his warm smile. He explains that the airport is new. John calls and Manju affirms our safe arrival.
First impressions of India--- Many small little markets and shops. It strangely reminds me of Honduras, yet everything is written in English because of the British influence. A ghost city-- all shades and doors are drawn closed at six a.m. Then, there is a familiar smile. "John!" He stands on a street corner outside of his hotel. Manju pulls over and it is such a warm welcoming to see John after such a long night/day's worth of traveling. He hops into the jeep and accompanies us to our quaint hotel. Luckely our phone call over skype from home over the internet worked and we have a reservation under STEVE for room number 82 on the third floor. 750 ruppes a night (fifteen dollars)nice bed, large room, windows, television, bucket shower... It is not glamorous, but it is a room. It is where we spend our first few hours in India. Even though we are eager to explore, our bodies tell us that it is night because at home, it IS night. Our eyes will not allow us to keep going. There is no more adrennaline to keep us on emergency awake mode. With an initial greeting of friendship and a safe arrival, we sleep. We dream. We pray for those who did NOT arrive safely to their destination on Air France.
Still lethargic, we wake up and like zombies, we find an internet cafew to write friends and family. We find our first lunch outside of a supermarket- dahl beans, rice, roti wheat bread for 60 rupees (a little over a dollar for everything). We finda book store to purchase maps for the states where we plan to visit.
It is midnight. I must get sleep before we start our first day of cycling tomorrow!
Quick four favorite moments to remember!
1. India's sun rise greeting our safe landing in Bangalore!
2. Seeing John on the street corner, feeling the true beauty of friendship!
3. The simple exchange of smiles while purchasing bread and nuts in a supermarket. The truth that people are people all over the world and that most are filled with goodness.
4. Dinner with Steve and John at a Vegetarian Indian Restaurant. The food was great, but even better the celebration of friendship and the beginning of a new adventure!
Time: 11:34 p.m. Indian time
Location: Brindavan Hotel on M.G. Road in Bangalore, India
I want you to experience India with me. I want you to see it and feel every flavor of it to the last drop and detail. So I will take you with me. I will paint you a picture with my words spiced with my emotions.
I am here in the mometn when the airplane begins to decend. My eyes are heavy. My mind is finally calm. All the anxiety has been spent. how can this big plane fly through the air, hours and hours over the ocean? Surely, it will just fall out of the sky! I try to remind myself that air travel is the safest form of transport. I know that a person is more likely to have an accident and die on their way to work rather than in an airplane. Yet teh news reports fo the recent Air France flight crash just off the coast of Brazil makes me cringe with fear. Surely, there must have been eager young travelers like ourselves, excited to backpack and spend their summer exploring Brazil on that flight. What terror they must have felt when their plane tumbled and twirled in the air. I cannot imagine. Just the thought of it makes my heart tight and my breath short. My soul cries for those people and even more so for their families that are caught in the should of and could of sorrows.
Really, I am not afraid of the peacefulness of death. Rather, I am afraid of the transition, the terror, and the difficulty of those last moments in life.
So actually, our plane really did not fall out of the sky. Landing! I am so happy to get off the airplane and touch land that I really don't feel the stress and anxiety of meeting India for the first time. As we pass each steward and airline employee, I thank them for the "wonderful" flight. "It is wonderful because we landed," I tell Steve as we laugh half delerious and loopy with jello bodies.
Off the massive airplane, the two hundred plus passengers form a mob of a line. "What is this for?" I wonder outloud. We peer over all the short local Indian people and see four health specialists putting a thermometer into the ear of each arriving person. Then, we see the sign and are given documents to sign regarding the swine flu. I fill out the mandatory survey and sign that I do not have a temperature and have NOT had any symtoms of the flu inthe past twenty-four hours. After the swine flu temperature check and documentation, the line forms once again for a security check.
At 4:40 a.m. local Indian time, I take off my shoes and belt to show that I am indeed not bringing in any bombs. Finally, we pass the swine flu and security checks. We wait anxiously for our cardboard boxes to appear. The conveyor belt seems to be constipated . The mob of 200 arriving passengers eagerly search for their suitcases or duffel bags. Finally a 1/2 hour later we greet our big boxes with hugs, grasping them firmly to place them all on the cart.
We THINK we are headed out the front doors of the airport when an immigration officer stops us.
"What is in the box?" he asks.
"Bicyle" I reply.
"What will you do with bicycle" he demands
"We are excited to bicycle from here to the southern most tip of India"
"Where will you start" he asks confused.
"Here in Bangalore" I re-state.
His eyes grow wide
"How much is bicycle? You have receipt for purchase of bicyle?" He seems confused
"I have no receipt, but I have a route map." I show him our map of where we plan to go. Finally he takes a closer look. He smiles, "I never know anybody that do this," he says, and then, "Good luck! Take care!"
At 5:50, we walk out the doors of the airport and India welcomes us with a pink sunrise outlined by silver clouds...and Manju! Manju is our driver that John set up for us. He is holding a sign "Mr. Steve and Mrs Teresa Cavanagh" He immediatly recognizes us with our large boxes. We immediately connect with Manju and his warm smile. He explains that the airport is new. John calls and Manju affirms our safe arrival.
First impressions of India--- Many small little markets and shops. It strangely reminds me of Honduras, yet everything is written in English because of the British influence. A ghost city-- all shades and doors are drawn closed at six a.m. Then, there is a familiar smile. "John!" He stands on a street corner outside of his hotel. Manju pulls over and it is such a warm welcoming to see John after such a long night/day's worth of traveling. He hops into the jeep and accompanies us to our quaint hotel. Luckely our phone call over skype from home over the internet worked and we have a reservation under STEVE for room number 82 on the third floor. 750 ruppes a night (fifteen dollars)nice bed, large room, windows, television, bucket shower... It is not glamorous, but it is a room. It is where we spend our first few hours in India. Even though we are eager to explore, our bodies tell us that it is night because at home, it IS night. Our eyes will not allow us to keep going. There is no more adrennaline to keep us on emergency awake mode. With an initial greeting of friendship and a safe arrival, we sleep. We dream. We pray for those who did NOT arrive safely to their destination on Air France.
Still lethargic, we wake up and like zombies, we find an internet cafew to write friends and family. We find our first lunch outside of a supermarket- dahl beans, rice, roti wheat bread for 60 rupees (a little over a dollar for everything). We finda book store to purchase maps for the states where we plan to visit.
It is midnight. I must get sleep before we start our first day of cycling tomorrow!
Quick four favorite moments to remember!
1. India's sun rise greeting our safe landing in Bangalore!
2. Seeing John on the street corner, feeling the true beauty of friendship!
3. The simple exchange of smiles while purchasing bread and nuts in a supermarket. The truth that people are people all over the world and that most are filled with goodness.
4. Dinner with Steve and John at a Vegetarian Indian Restaurant. The food was great, but even better the celebration of friendship and the beginning of a new adventure!
Ready or not, India,. here we come!
Date: June 13, 2009
Time: 10:30 p.m. Chicago Time
Location: British Airways flight just out of Chicago
My stomach is tight, tighter than a quality boy-scout knot. My finger nails are overly groomed. At take off, my heart bangs its drum against my chest. I squeeze Steve's hand as if I was squeezing orange juice for breakfast!
"What am I doing?" I feel like standing up and running to the pilot's door and screaming, "I am not a terrorist! I am just a crazy fool and I have changed my mind!" I will take my bicycle and I will cycle around the block in my neighborhood instead. I cannot remember what crazy ideas brought me to make the decision to be here today! Why to I crave adventure? I don't know what the hell I am doing but ready or not, India, here I come!
Date: June 15, 2009
Time: 4:00 a.m. Indian time
Location: British Airways flight from London to Bangalore
My body feels like jelly stuck to a plastic mold. I am so lethargic from sitting on the seven hour plus the nine and a half hour flights. I am watching the airplane move across the screen monitor on the back of the seat in front of me. Officially, we are now above India. In just thirty minutes, I will meet my new land to explore and discover. I imagine a smoggy city much like Tegucigalpa in Honduras. I am nervous and anxious. Really, I am less anxious than before. After sitting on the airplane for so long, I am ready. I am ready to meet India in her entirety--her physical strokes of beauty and the scars of poverty.
Time: 10:30 p.m. Chicago Time
Location: British Airways flight just out of Chicago
My stomach is tight, tighter than a quality boy-scout knot. My finger nails are overly groomed. At take off, my heart bangs its drum against my chest. I squeeze Steve's hand as if I was squeezing orange juice for breakfast!
"What am I doing?" I feel like standing up and running to the pilot's door and screaming, "I am not a terrorist! I am just a crazy fool and I have changed my mind!" I will take my bicycle and I will cycle around the block in my neighborhood instead. I cannot remember what crazy ideas brought me to make the decision to be here today! Why to I crave adventure? I don't know what the hell I am doing but ready or not, India, here I come!
Date: June 15, 2009
Time: 4:00 a.m. Indian time
Location: British Airways flight from London to Bangalore
My body feels like jelly stuck to a plastic mold. I am so lethargic from sitting on the seven hour plus the nine and a half hour flights. I am watching the airplane move across the screen monitor on the back of the seat in front of me. Officially, we are now above India. In just thirty minutes, I will meet my new land to explore and discover. I imagine a smoggy city much like Tegucigalpa in Honduras. I am nervous and anxious. Really, I am less anxious than before. After sitting on the airplane for so long, I am ready. I am ready to meet India in her entirety--her physical strokes of beauty and the scars of poverty.
lunes, 15 de junio de 2009
Landing in Bangalore
Love and hugs from Bangalore India! After HOURS and HOURS of flight, it felt good to finally step off the airplane. We were surprised at how strict the security was to get in! They even took our temperature to make sure that we did not have the swine flu. Our bicycles and luggage arrived fine. We walked out the front doors of the airport and we met India for the first time! It was about six in the morning and immediately we saw a sign that read Mr Steve Cavanagh and Mrs. Teresa Cavanagh! Our driver was waiting with a big welcoming grin. He helped us load the bicycles in the jeep/truck. In the early wee hours, traffic was very light and everything was closed. It almost looked like a ghost city. The airport is about ten miles outside the city. We stopped at the hotel where our friend, John, is staying. It was so surreal to see John standing outside on the street. It seems as though he belongs at the Wild Bull or at the Strutt in Kalamazoo. We greeted each other warmly and he jumped into the jeep with us to accompany us to our hotel. Our hotel is very basic with bucket shower, but roomy and in a safe location on the main drag. You would think that after hours and hours of sitting on the airplane we would be loaded with energy. However, somehow we feel utterly exhausted. Since everything was closed anyway and John had to go to get ready for work, we thought we would take a quick nap. Our quick nap tip-toed into hours. Steve woke me up at noon (India time). We took bucket showers and we find ourselves typing to you in this internet cafe just a few blocks from our hotel. It is broad day-light and the streets are bustling now with people scurring to make their purchases and lots of traffic. Yet, my body tells me it's the middle of the night.
The battle plan to combat the jet-lag is to stay awake until ten o'clock then sleep well to prepare ourselves for our first day of cycling tomorrow! We have a ride set to pick us up at 6:30 a.m. and drive us about an hour outside the city.
Let the adventure begin! I am ready to meet India!
Lots of love, Teresa and Steve
The battle plan to combat the jet-lag is to stay awake until ten o'clock then sleep well to prepare ourselves for our first day of cycling tomorrow! We have a ride set to pick us up at 6:30 a.m. and drive us about an hour outside the city.
Let the adventure begin! I am ready to meet India!
Lots of love, Teresa and Steve
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