MARK TAKEFMAN

Argentina Miracle

2011-02-19T18:35:00.001+05:30

In 2002 I went to an International Association of National Youth Service conference in Buenos Aries dealing with national community service programs from around the world. I was there on behalf of the New World Foundation of New York. The 1999-2002 economic crisis in Argentina had left the country in a terrible state. Most of the middle class had been wiped out and the poor made poorer. Labourers from surrounding countries that had once come to the city with their families for work now found themselves stranded due to the financial collapse. The children of these workers were often left on their own. Turning to each other they formed street gangs that were responsible for crimes such as robbery, muggings, murder, rape, drug abuse and so on. Many of these gangs were made up of pre-teen kids. These kids had lost any sense of moral codes or ethics and had become (what I used to call) psychopaths or what is now called anti-social personality disorders.

Before the conference I, with many of the other participants, went on a tour of various community service projects around the city. At one such project I witnessed something I felt very strongly, was nothing more than a human miracle. The project was a school that had taken in many of the migrant children from the area that were part of gangs. The school looked more like a prison with barbed wire all around it, but it was amazingly turning these delinquent kids back in human beings and then giving them an education. The school in the early years had suffered from much of the kinds of behaviour these kids were used to doing, such as murders. There was a high number mentioned. You could not teach these kids at this phase of their detour of life, for they had no attention span. So the basic method of approach was to get the boys to play soccer and the girls to play broom ball. As they started to develop a sense of team work, the older children were given the roles of teachers to the younger. The process offered the kids a way to get their abundant energy out while giving them a sense of family and cooperation. Eventually they were put into small groups for classroom study. Each little step was calculated to return these children to the social world.

The teachers were the real miracle makers of this story. Often having little or no pay, suffering at the hands of the kids held a tenacity that kept them to their mission. My admiration for them is endless. We got to meet and talk with some of the kids that had went through the program (with an interpreter) and marvelled at the fact that in the end, they were just kids, like any other kid you know who wants to play, have friends and a family. It was this event that was inspired my career of doing organizational development for citizen sector organizations (also known as Non-profits or NGOs) and it still motivates me to find and practice beauty and peace in this world.

I am an OD advisor sponsored by VSO and has presently finished a two year posting in Barmer, Rajasthan, India and will shortly undertake a one year posting in Chengdu, Sichuan, China.

February 18, 2011

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This is the End

2011-02-04T10:27:00.001+05:30

As I quickly approach the end of my two year posting in Barmer, Rajasthan working at SURE I have been reflecting on what I was able to accomplish during this time. My exit report lists two pages of items that I feel (optimistically) were positive changes and relationships that I was involved with. But while I do cherish these accomplishments, I was not totally satisfied when I left SURE the first time (back in June 2010 to work with VSO India and the UNDP on a special project in Delhi) as my main suggestion, one in which the SURE leadership agreed with, was that a new Executive Director be placed in the organization, offering them a new level of professionalism and fund raising capacity, was not met.
VSO India had lined up three CSOs in Jharkhand for me to work with and I began my preliminary work with them when Mr. Mag Raj Jain called me to ask me to meet with him and Lata Kachhawaha (Secretary and Joint-Secretary respectively) in Barmer.
At that meeting they told me that they now fully agreed that a new ED was needed at SURE and would I come back to recruit one. Well I did return and cutting to the chase, Mr. Amit Sharma from Jodhpur was selected for the post, one in which he too accepted. So if I may toot my own horn at this time, this was the proverbial feather in the cap of my work and I leave SURE on Feb 14^th with a nice sense of completion and am satisfied that if Mr. Sharma and SURE’s Executive Committee can work with each other, then SURE will flourish to the potential I have always seen in it. I wish them all the best good luck.

Next: Chengdu, Sichuan, China at the Chengdu Urban River Association for one year. Stay tuned for a new BLOG on this adventure.

Traveler, there are no roads, roads are made by travelling. – Spanish Proverb

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New Hindi Word

2011-01-19T20:05:00.001+05:30

2 am, Jan 19, 2011, Barmer, Rajasthan
I just learnt a new Hindi word: Bhukamp
It means earthquake.
5 minutes before my neighbours told me this word, I was fast asleep. My bed woke me, it was shaking back and forth. I woke instantly with full alertness and felt the whole building shaking. I headed to go get Mike up (he had just arrived the evening before) but then shaking stopped. I heard the sounds of voices on the street and decided to let Mike sleep and went out. The whole neighbourhood was out, lights were on all over, dogs were barking. That’s when I learnt my new word.

Ok, for those of you who are thinking, well it’s a good thing he’s shortly leaving that area and heading off to China, reconsider: the area I’m going to, Chengdu, Sichuan is a earthquake zone. A few years ago 69,000 + people died 80 kilometres away in Wenchuan County where the building codes were not to earthquake standards as in Chengdu. Feel better now?

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Update: Leatherman Returned

2010-12-23T13:04:00.001+05:30

Woke up, got out of bed, dragged a comb across my head…

Went outside to find my Leatherman multi-tool on the floor of my front porch.

All is well. No questions asked.

Every person, all events of your life are there because you have drawn them there. What you choose to do with them is up to you. ~ Illusions, by Richard Bach

Of Language and Personality

2010-12-14T18:05:00.001+05:30

I was asked to give a one hour talk at the local boys college on language and personality. Ok, you can stop laughing. The boys, and three girls were 19 years old, in a intensive one month course to develop their English skills and their personality. The purpose for both of these aspirations was so that they could get a good job. At least that is what the course description said and what they told me when I asked. Needless to say I tried to inspire an additional message: that being they were doing this also for their own personal edification, to be able to expand their communications, networking, and knowledge skills etc.. They had never heard of Mr. Shakespeare and I mentioned that learning English would give them a window on literature in the rest of the world that rarely happens to students here.

But I arrived and the professor gave a little speech and then asked Jarrina (a girl from our office, and alumni from the school who came along with me) was asked to introduce me. She didn’t know this was going to happen but got up and introduced herself and then me and I was very impressed with her, she who normally is a shy quiet young woman who sits and does her work at the office, to speak so easily and calmly. Then the professor got up and flower lays were given out, the school principal came in, two photographers and it began to feel like the circus was in town. The introductions and ceremony took twenty minutes off my scheduled talk, but that turned out to be just fine. I figured if I could get the kids to talk we could easily spend an hour in discussion. But as much as I tried and jokingly threatened them with poor grades for the course, I only got 3 of the 20 or so to speak up. But they were very respectful and attentive. I tried to make as much eye contact as possible and one young man responded at the end telling me my talk was wonderful, beautiful and grateful. That’s a lot of “fullness”. I’ve been asked back.

“In order to live free and happily, you must sacrifice boredom.

It is not always an easy sacrifice.” ~ Illusions, by Richard Bach

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Snippets

2010-12-11T08:36:00.001+05:30

Sure has a vacuum cleaner. A simple canister type. But it wasn’t working, the plug needed to be rewired. So I fixed it and brought it home. The neighbours saw me with it on the back of my motorcycle and gathered round to inspect this device. They had never seen one. They didn’t know what it did. So being the great vacuum salesman that I am I proceeded to demonstrate how it worked to my neighbours. I wonder what they think of me.

A street wedding for a local boy happened over the period of a week. Lights were strung on the buildings for the festive occasion. So I bought some LED coloured lights and put them over my doorway too. I was invited, of course, and spent brief periods of time walking the streets with the crowds, getting food and standing around just watching. I could only do short walks as every time I went out my entourage of kids followed me around and forced my attention on them. Even though I got to eat at the wedding buffet, it still costs 100 rupees as a gift to attend. Standard fare.

I was invited to the one year birthday of Khartik, son of Ganesh from work. At the event I was told that a woman wanted to meet me. Oh good I thought, someone to talk to who hopefully speaks English. This was the case and Bernice John, a 26 year old young woman was interested in me going to meet her father the local priest of a church just outside of Barmer. I went to the church, met and talked with Mr. John, while enjoying an omelette his wife made for me. The whole family speaks English. I was invited to mass on Sunday. I’ll report on that later.

On the way to the church I had just turned the corner of my street when some local boys stopped me. I don’t usually stop for these kids and I don’t know why I did so then. But they tried to get on the bike and started pawing me and it took a while to get them away so I could safely drive off. Cutting to the chase, when I got home that evening I discovered my Leatherman multi-tool was not in my belt holder. I suspect, strongly, one of the boys lifted it from me then. I have put up a poster offering a 100 rupee reward, but so far no luck.

Still waiting for a reply for my application to do a year with VSO in China. In any case I will return to Canada in March 2011.

I bought a book at the airport when I went to Kerala to meet with Cindy and Melissa. It’s by one of my favourite authors Arundhati Roy who some of you know wrote The God of Small Things. This book is called Listening to Grasshoppers, Field Notes on Democracy. Wish I could recommend it, but it is just too depressing to do so. Nevertheless, I read on.

Kerala was a lot of fun. In the short week there I got to know Cindy and her daughter Melissa as we travelled around the tea plantations and waterways. Arundhati Roy says India is a place of many centuries and Kerala had a good mixture of the 20^th century. Much more so than Barmer has. Actually, I’m not sure the 20^th century has made it to Barmer.

Anyone can carry on a conversation but it’s rare to find someone who can carry on a silence.
- Jeff Moss

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Paul & Mark's October 2010 Quick Trip Specs

2010-12-08T09:09:00.001+05:30

Time Period: August 27^th to September 19^th (Mark) and 24^th (Paul)

Overall distance traveled: approximately 3,500 kilometres

Domains encountered: smoggy city, high altitude desert, valleys, forests

Weather Conditions: Mostly clear and sunny, cold mornings in the high altitudes, rain for a few days towards the end of the period.

Passes passed over: Rothang La (3,980 metres/13,057 feet), Baralacha La (4,892 metres/16,050 feet), Lachulung La, (5,065 metres/16,613 feet) Kunzam Pass (4,551 metres/14,931 feet), Jalori Pass (3,134 metres/10,282 feet), Namshang Pass (4,850 metres/15,908 feet )

Highest Altitude reached: 5,065 metres/16,613 feet (by comparison Mount Everest Base camp is: 5,380 metres high)

Valleys Traveled: Kullu Valley, Lahaul Valley, Spiti Valley, Satluj Valley, Baspa Valley, Parbhati Valley, Indus River Valley, Bangor Valley

Monasteries Meditated in: 5

Cheapest lodging (per night): 50 rupees per bed (about $1.15 CDN)

Most expensive lodging (per night): 600 rupees for one room (about $13.82 CDN)

Israeli’s met: several dozen plus a few more

Mechanical Breakdowns: 1, Paul’s clutch cable broke

Illness and Injuries: Altitude sickness, a cold, bleeding lips, burnt nose, cut arms and legs

Bike drops: Paul = 5 plus knocked over once by a irresponsible rampaging cow, Mark = 1 (but the stone on the road jumped up at me!)

Best place for a Cappuccino: any Café Coffee Day

Animals encountered on the road (other than the human type): cows, horses, goats, sheep, quails, and ferrets, and some brown animal called a Loopku that eats the legs off of sheep (according to Paul) plus camels and peafowl (in Rajasthan on Mark’s way back)

Landslides encountered: 10 plus (including one active one that occurred minutes before we went around the freshly fallen rock debris)

Road Rivers driven through: 10 plus

Hot Springs: 3 Went in: 2, Vashisht and Kiriganga

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The Long and Slow Road

2010-11-15T14:13:00.001+05:30

November 15, 2010

I’m back in Barmer, Rajasthan. Asked by SURE to complete the work I was not able to continue six months ago of getting a new executive director for them, I came back to my same old house, same crazy kids on the street and same rat infested office.

I picked up the pieces from where I left off and had Chanchal do some telephone interviews while I convalesced in Delhi from Dengue Fever. Three candidates were still available after all this time and I invited them to Barmer for in-person interviews. The first one came this past weekend.

The process seemed to go well and I got to spend some good time with the person as did SURE’s leadership. I was pleased with how well it was going even though I was not prepared to comment on the suitability of this candidate at that time. In any case SURE needed this experience, they never had to replace their charismatic founder Mag Raj Jain since he began the organization over 20 years ago.

Sunday was wrap-up time and I left the candidate to himself a couple of hours before his return train ride home to Delhi feeling job well done and now for a cold beer.

I bought the beer, smuggled it past the neighbours and children and closed my windows and doors, opened the bottle, was about to pour a glass when…… my cell phone rang. It was the general manager of the hotel, where my candidate had stayed, asking me to quickly come to the hotel as my guy was crying on the floor and there was a broken bottle around him. It was 6:15 pm. The train was leaving at 6:30 pm. I rushed off on my motorcycle in shorts and flip-flops at a rate I normally don’t travel at, but I don’t want to further incriminate myself in case my insurance company is reading.

At the hotel I found my gentleman passed out on the floor outside his the room in which he last stayed at. About 10 of the hotel staff was all around looking down at him. They had swept his broken whisky bottle to a corner. I woke him up and got him to his feet telling him we’re going to the train. He cold hardly walk so two of us held him up. One of the staff got his two bags and fortunately the SURE jeep was outside and we drove the short distance to the station. I put him into his sleeper-class coach with his bags and waited for the train to leave the station. Yes I wanted to make sure he was on his way. I figured it would be better for him to sleep off his inebriation on the train.

So went the day. My open bottle of beer still had some fizz and I finally drank it but feeling very emotionally drained. I slept in to 10am the next morning.

Next: candidate’s 2 and 3 in the weeks to come.

But first a short vacation to visit Kerala with some friends. Ahhhhhh….

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July 26, 2010, Last day in Barmer

2010-07-28T11:36:00.001+05:30

I had already packed up my first four bags and left Barmer last June 15. But I left behind another 5 bags that I returned to collect and say my goodbyes. Where did I get all this stuff?

Well some of it is not coming back to Canada, like kitchen stuff and other household items. Some of the bulk is also for the camel, and that too will stay behind when I leave. Still, I will have to ship some stuff off, like my very large custom made quilt, before I exit stage left.

I was lucky when I arrived at Barmer, it had been raining for a few days before I arrived and it rained the next day as well. So I got a break from dogging raindrops, but not from large puddles, mud and other collections of water and street waste.

From the train, which arrived at 10am, I bought some fresh batteries for my camera and then headed off by foot to my house. Camera batteries always die just as you need them the most. As soon as I was just a few blocks away from my house I was welcomed back by the kids on the street. On my street a large group of all my little friends gathered around me and walked me to the front gate. As usually I negotiated (squeezed) myself past them and locked the front door with them yelling on the patio.

The house was a mess inside with all the rain and sand that did manage to get in and onto the floors. I didn’t clean. My purpose was in another direction. I just started packing the rest of what I needed to take and made a pile of stuff I wanted to give away. At one point I started letting kids in to take some of stuff I was leaving, like empty jars, some food, forks and spoons, plates and bowls and so on. I also put some stuff aside that I was going to give to the Sharma family. Good thing too, for soon as the neighbours got hold of the fact that was giving things away a mob of all ages barged in and began taking things. They asked first, which was nice, but often didn’t wait for an answer. I just let them take things and tried to make sure there was some sort of even dispersion, but I don’t think that worked out. It seemed like mayhem for a while. The kids did come back after storing their items (like squirrels) asking for anything else that might have been left, but I told them no but I would buy them all a Pepsi (which is a 1 rupee frozen flavoured ice treat, not the soda drink) then walked them all to Lalit’s corner store. Cost me 14 rupees to make everyone happy.

I went back and the house was quiet and I finished my final pack. Vishal had brought his father’s car from Balotra and we stuffed everything inside. I locked up the house and said my last farewell to my neighbours. I don’t think the kids understood I was leaving for good, which was good as I got to see their smiling faces as I left.

We drove to the Sharma’s and Vishal stayed there a bit with me but soon left to go to the office (I still had the Honda Splendor motorcycle to get around) All except the father, Satish, were there and they did not conceal their sadness at my departure. I stayed for some coffee and small talk and then said good-bye. I got a picture of them with their sad faces as they watched me leave. Pawan (the mother) told me I had to come back to India for Suprya’s wedding. Suprya did not like the sound of this notification of her future engagement.

I took one side trip to see Mag Raj Jain. He was still in poor health, as he has been for many months now and we spoke little but I’m glad to have had the opportunity to thank him and say good bye.

Then off to the office for another series of good-byes. This was fairly quick and only Lata admitted that she was sad to see me go. I told her I would continue to support and work for SURE, but via the internet. If I was needed to return for a workshop or something similar, I would also arrange for that. So I’m still officially volunteering for SURE, just from a distance.

I took a walk around town to try to meet up with some of the various merchants I had befriended to say good by to them. I was lucky to meet quite a few of them along with the General Manager of the Kalinga Hotel, Shahul Hammed, who had been very kind and helpful to me during all my stay there.

Vishal, who was also saying goodbye, as he had left his job with SURE to seek out a new adventure, was noticeably glad to get away as well as we headed out towards Balotra, his hometown. The first few kilometres out of town were under construction and very muddy due to the rains. That’s were we got the flat tire. The spare was bald and had the internal wires sticking out the minimal tread. But it got us to the next town and the puncture repair guy. 45 minutes later we were on our way with no incidence.

Supper at the Patwari’s and a casual next day with them smoothed over the rush of the day before. It rained almost all day and the streets were many inches deep. On the way to the train station we left a good wake behind the car. I talked with Vishal on the platform waiting for the train about his idea to start a school in Balotra. He’s still working on the idea.

A lot of train stations have lighted markers to tell you where you coach will stop so you can be waiting there when the train comes in. Unfortunately this is not the case at Balotra. The baggage carriers told us where the A2 coach would stop and we waited under a shelter until the train came. Of course the coach was still a bit of a run to get to. You only have two minutes to get to and on the train. Much too short with five heavy packs.

So once I was safely on board, I said my goodbye to Vishal, sorted out the sheets and blanket and lay down on my train bed as I transitioned into the next phase of this journey.

Delhi or bust!

“Let the beauty of what you love be what you do.” - Rumi

10

2010-04-12T14:03:00.000+05:30

I’ve been writing a lot about driving in India. I’ve also read a few other very funny accounts all along the same kind of lines I have been describing. But I write for a reason, and that is to try to understand this seemingly crazy world. The mind is always trying to put some cosmos into the chaos all around us and I have stretched my imagination in all sorts of directions trying to understand the patterns of behaviour that goes into the driving culture in India. And finally I had a revelation. My educational background is based in developmental psychology, so I was thinking about the different developmental aspects of a 3^rd world country as different to that of a 1^st world one when I realized I could be very specific with my theories and apply the concepts directly to driving. My mind zipped ahead and revealed what the basis’s were for the driving behaviours one sees in India. And it comes down to this question, I put to you dear reader: What would happen if you took, say, 100 to a couple of million ten year old boys, gave them all motorcycles, cars and trucks and let them loose on the streets? And the answer is: you would witness the Indian driving mentality.
Western cultures were slowly introduced to using mechanical transportation over many decades and generations. The lessons of the physics of a vehicle, of courtesy, of laws and what we like to call common sense were embedded slowly into our consciousness. The Indian culture did not have these lessons. Their country was seen as a market opportunity (and not just for cars) as many modern technologies were introduced, regardless of their ability to use these devices. Hey, we all drive, so certainly the Indians could do so as well. Well, it just ain’t so and the proof is found driving around anywhere in the country. And it’s not just the drivers, although they represent a large part of the driving environment, it’s also the pedestrians, the bicyclists, the cart drivers and so on. None of them follow any sort of what we would call “sensible orderly rules”. As a pedestrian, if you want to wear black and walk down the middle of a busy street at night, so be it. That’s the way it is, because you haven’t the foggiest idea about what it would mean to be hit even by a small motorcycle traveling at 50kpm. Who, by the way, is also driving with no lights!
So let me review with you some of the basic behaviour characteristics we commonly associate with a ten year old mentality so you can get the idea of how the mentality of the road ways work around here. Ten year olds are:

Are not courteous (yes there are exceptions but these are general terms)
They are often oblivious and don’t look where they’re going
They’re focused only on their own selves
They take chances because they think they can live forever
They exceed their capacity because they don’t even know they have a capacity for anything
They know everything so they can do no wrong
And are competitive

You get the idea. The actual manifestations of these characteristics, as I’ve said, I and others have written all about, and with great amusement, I do confess. Now I await your comments.

Any man who can drive safely while kissing a pretty girl is simply not giving the kiss the attention it deserves. ~Albert Einstein

Body Image

2010-04-06T16:04:00.000+05:30

I only have a small, head size mirror at my home. So when I recently stayed at a hotel in Udaipur with Vincent, where there was a full length mirror, for the first time in many months I saw my whole body and ….. it was not me! That was my first thought. My own body image was different from what I was seeing in the mirror. It was very strange to be looking at someone else yet also knowing it was me! I knew that I had lost a lot of weight but that skinny person in the mirror didn’t look like me at all. Yes, I’m trying to put the weight back on, but with summer now almost here, I am drinking more than eating. I guess I’ll have to wait until I get back to Canada and hope I don’t disappear altogether before then.

If you have come here to help me, you are wasting your time...but if you have come because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together.
Lilla Watson (Australian Aboriginal Woman)

Links to Mt. Abu and Udaipur trip

2010-03-31T11:11:00.001+05:30

Mt. Abu pictures
http://picasaweb.google.ca/lh/sredir?uname=takefman&target=ALBUM&id=5454656996088801969&authkey=Gv1sRgCISypYaYtNXM0gE&feat=email

Udaipur pictures

http://picasaweb.google.ca/lh/sredir?uname=takefman&target=ALBUM&id=5454662343019971553&authkey=Gv1sRgCKLU-fCY6fH0jAE&feat=email

Mt. Abu, Udaipur and Birthdays

2010-03-28T11:13:00.002+05:30

I didn’t leave early in the morning to Mt. Abu to catch the cooler air. But that was ok, the temperatures are getting hotter but on the motorcycle you constantly have an airflow. Of course in the middle of summer this airflow is often over 45C degrees but these days it’s tolerable.
I was the only large bike on the road and one of the few guys with a helmet and only one with a white helmet. Maybe that’s why the highway police stopped me. I pulled over and took off my helmet and the officer recognizing he had a foreigner to deal with, asked me where I was going. “Mt. Abu” I said and he signalled me on. That was it. But I pulled out my handmade map and asked him if my route was ok to which he agreed.
My route through flat desert terrain was now familiar to me, so when I started to see mountains off in the distance getting closer I was eager to get into their midst. Mt. Abu is called a hill station and is situated in the Aravalli Range, one of the oldest in the world, at about 1723 metres (5,653 feet) above sea level. Not that high but high enough to be a bit cooler. In the past winter the temps dropped to 0C while it was still 10C in Barmer.
I stopped at a petrol station along the way(I still have to consciously think the word “petrol” instead of “gas”) to ask directions. Some older men sitting in the shade ordered one of the boys to go get me water and told me that Mt. Abu was 50kilometers away by highway and 25kilometers by hill. I wanted to do the hill of course, but never found the turn-off. But the route in was still quite marvellous. (a link to the pics will soon be posted on this BLOG) A narrow twisty road rising through an open forest of naked trees. Traveling at 50 kph allowed me to enjoy the ride and the scenery at the same time.
Mt. Abu is a tourist destination, and at this time of year it was almost 100% Indian tourists. There were very expensive to very cheap hotels available all around a lake that has lost more than half its water volume. Still, boat rentals were popular so long as you packed at least 5 into a rowboat that was rowed by a guide. They wouldn’t allow me to row my own boat and go off by myself, so I passed on that marine adventure.
I found a 200 rupee a night hotel, basic and clean, and spent two nights there. The next day was my birthday and I got up and went to Coffee Day, where they have real brewed coffee, and had a cappuccino and a veg sandwich for breakfast. I was surprised to see that they were selling a French coffee press (Bodum) and for 250 rupees I bought myself a birthday present. I bought the only one they had.
From the map I had of the town, I decided to go find this place called Toad Rock, but on the way got side tracked by an interesting road through a poor part of town and ended up at the base of a nearby mountain which called to me. So up I trekked in my flip-flops of course. It didn’t take me more than half an hour to get to the twin peaks and I hung out there in the cool breeze looking down at the lake and boats and mobs of tourists below. My water bottle was spiked with rehydration solution, an essential ingredient for me these days, so I was feeling well and peaceful as the man on the mountain.

The highway to Udaipur was recently built and was close to North American standards. Signage was not great but then there was only one road to travel on so you couldn’t really get lost. Well I could as there was no sign for the Udaipur turnoff, so I kept going when I shouldn’t have. One of the design problems with the four-lane divided highway was that for over 80 kilometres was that there were few opportunities for vehicles to cross over the median. This meant that there was often two way traffic on each side of the highway, so the assumption that just because you’re on the “correct” side of the road means you have the right of way, is dust in the wind. And of course as I have written before, there are all those other challenges on the road to be cautious about, even a multi-lane highway.
Udaipur is a fairly large city and not laid out in a way that navigation is easy. But my traveling experiences have taught me to stop often and ask directions and in this way I was able to find, without too much trouble, the hotel that Vincent had booked.
Vincent had just finished his two year VSOI volunteer posting in Pune and was doing some touring around India before he went back to the

. He was going to go to the Mt. Everest base camp as well in the weeks ahead. So he had wanted to see Udaipur and booked an expensive hotel room with a view of the lake. He allowed me to stay with him and pay him what I could afford, which was very generous of him. I arrived before him and checked in to a marvellous hotel, squeezed in at the end of a narrow street, right on the lake. It was very cute and comfortable and I headed straight for the shower. Vincent arrived later in the afternoon and by chance he saw me in the streets from his taxi from the airport was taking him in. So I hopped into his cab and went to the hotel. I spent the next two days sightseeing with him and drinking beer. One of the sights we visited was the Monsoon Temple, some 7 kilometres out of town on top of a mountain (where else?). We took an auto-rickshaw to the base and walked up the road to the top, getting there just in time to see the sunset, as was our plan.
I spent an afternoon with Bruce, a Canadian who has been living in

India

on and off for ten years working as a consultant for Seva Mandir, one of Rajasthan’s largest NGOs. I had contacted him because Ann had met him on one of her trips here and suggested I get together with him. He has been working on water conservation and sanitation issues and had some interesting stories to tell. Like the one about the eco-toilets that were installed that no one uses because a) no one asked the locals if they wanted them and b) no one trained them on how to use these devices.
I also spent time with Chanchal’s brother, Himachu who lives in Udaipur. He came to the hotel and picked Vincent and me up and took us out for dinner and a visit to his mother. As we drove through Udaipur in the dark he pointed out the many sight along the way. He was very generous with his time and it was nice to get to know him.

Friday back to Barmer and I meandered through the desert, deviating from my planned route as I got different directions along the way. About 25 kilometres from Barmer the bike died. It seemed like the same electrical problem I had on my last trip. I called Vishal and he set out to come get me. But even though I was in the middle of an empty desert, before long about ten Indian men were around me trying to help me get the bike going again. They didn’t really do anything but they got it started somehow and I continued my journey until I met Vishal along the road. My whole journey was about 832 kilometres (516 miles), start to finish and I think that my biking time is now curtailed until the after the summer heat.

The older I grow, the more I distrust the familiar doctrine that age brings wisdom. - H. L. Mencken

Codes of Conduct in the West as Different from those in India

2010-01-26T13:39:00.005+05:30

By Mark L. Takefman With thanks to Margaret R. Campbell, Louse Creber and Michael Rosenkrantz for their contributions

This guide is intended for those Indians who will one day visit a western country and need to be aware of certain cultural behaviours that are different from those in their own county. I’m not including every difference such as driving codes and attitudes, just some of the basic differences a newbie to Canada or

America

might need to know when they get off the plane. These include, but are not limited to:

General Public Behaviour

· No spitting.

· No blowing your nose in public without using a tissue.

· No picking your nose in public.

· No scratching your groin or rear end in public.

· No urinating in public, use a public washroom.

· No littering.

· It is not polite to stare at people, some people will even get mad and begin a fight with you.

· No “J” walking, that is crossing a road in the middle of a block instead of at a corner. (this is not enforced everywhere)

· Form lines and no line or “Q” jumping.

· Don’t push and shove anyone.

· When getting onto a train, metro, trolley or bus etc. always wait outside until disembarking passengers are off first.

· It’s ok for a man to shake hands with a woman and visa versa.

· Time: well let’s just say, it’s not the same in the West. It’s much faster in the West

· Time: part two, being late is ill-considered unless some good reason is given. What is late, usually more than 10 to 15 minutes in most cases.

· Don’t be surprised to find most things in USA and Canada are made in

China

· Smoking is not permitted in many public and private places.

· Woman’s clothing is often much more revealing.

· Men can wear shorts (short pants) in public.

· An individual’s personal space (around their own body) is larger than in

India

, stand back.

· People don’t smile as much as they do in

India

, but it’s ok to smile.

· Dogs and cats are common household pets.

· Lotteries are legal and there are numerous ticket booths to purchase your luck. But be advised, lotteries are nothing more than a tax on those with poor mathematical skills. Still, it’s sometimes nice to dream.

Medical

· You should have some emergency medical insurance when travelling.

· If you have an emergency medical situation, the health care system in

Canada

is free upon entry. You may have to pay a fee after your incident which you would claim back from your insurance company.

· In the

USA

, you (generally) need to have insurance or show that you can pay for services on the spot.

· Many of the drugs you can buy over the counter in India are prescription drugs in North America and you cannot purchase them from the Pharmacist (i.e. the chemist) with out a Doctors script.

· You purchase medical drugs from a Pharmacy or Drug Store.

Shopping

· Bartering for goods is not the norm, it does happen, but very rarely. Most items for sale are fixed prices. But many stores (shops) have ongoing SALES with lowered prices.

· Most items in stores have electronic tags on them to protect against shoplifters. If your purchased items have not been de-commissioned at the cash register, when you leave the store your products will ring alarm bells, and if there is one, a guard will stop you.

· While cash is always acceptable, many people use credit cards to pay for things.

· Many public places and stores have video cameras to watch your every move.

Conversation

· Do not interrupt conversations in progress unless it is urgent. Wait for a time to speak.

· Do not speak in a loud voice.

· It’s not ok to ask how old or any other personal questions or to remark how fat or make any other negative personal observation. Positive comments are welcome like: “You look great in that dress.” (this would be to a woman of course)

· On the other hand – how did you meet your wife/husband a good opener, unlike in

India

Privacy

· Do not drop by uninvited.

· Respect the privacy of others, especially around ATMs (ABMs as they are also called)

· Do not investigate the drawers, closets, purses, luggage or any other item in someone’s household .

· Not generally ok to ask where someone is going or what they are doing or to peer into their shopping bags.

· Curiosity in general discouraged.

The Washroom

· You won’t find squat toilets.

· Toilet paper is used in the washrooms instead of water and hands, sometimes you can find a bidet, but not in public places.

· Many public toilets and urinals have automatic flushing mechanisms so you don’t have to touch any handles.

· And many public sinks also have automatic water valves on sensors.

· You still wash your hands after using the washroom.

· Paper towels and/or electric blow drying units are available to dry your hands. If not use your pants like in

India

· Showers and baths replace the bucket bath.

· Men should lift the toilet seat to the upright position when urinating, and return it to the down position when finished. Women can do the opposite.

Culinary Habits

· Breakfast is often between 7am to 8am, lunch is at 12pm (noon) and dinner is often a 6pm. These are general times, as family schedules can change these periods. Eating at 8pm often happens after one has gone out to a show or movie.

· Children, men and women eat together, at the same time for meals, but not necessarily the same thing.

· When eating, you generally use a fork and other types of cutlery. Eating with the hands is allowed only for certain “finger foods” and for confectionary.

· It is not taboo to use your left hand for eating.

· Dessert comes at the end of a meal with tea and/or coffee.

· Tipping waiters is between 15% to 20% (unless a gratuity charge is indicated on the bill).

· Chinese vegetarian food is very different from Indian vegetarian, you have to try some.

· Most people eat meat, so the term non-veg is not used. You are either a meat eater (carnivore) or a vegetarian, vegan, fruitarian or something else.

· You can drink water right from the tap, but many people also use water filters, or purchase bottled water ( which is 90% the same as tap water but bottled).

· When eating out, people generally sit for around 30 minutes to an hour after the meal having coffee and talking before asking for the bill, we consider this an important part of eating out.

Chauvinism

· An older courtesy requires men to allow women to enter a doorway first and the man will hold the door open for her, and will pull out a chair for a woman to sit on (that is if she wants to sit).

· In addition, men will stand when a new arrival (male or female) to the table arrives. Your choice.

· Many modern business women wear suits that look similar to men’s suits.

Legal Issues

· Never attempt to bribe a police officer, it could land you in jail.

· Police carry guns and often also have tasers (which is an electroshock incapacitant weapon used for subduing a person by administering electric shock aimed at disrupting superficial muscle functions).

Some Driving Issues

· When driving and your car is approached by an emergency vehicle, such as a police car, ambulance or fire vehicle that has its lights flashing and sirens on, you must immediately pull over and let them pass. If you are on the opposite side of the road you must also slow down and even stop to make sure they have a clear and safe right of way.

· Be advised, if you rent a car, traffic tickets are a major source of income for the police, don’t speed etc., and don’t park in non-parking zones or without putting money in the parking meter.

· Don’t rent a car until you talk to me first, car rental companies will get you to take out all sorts of insurances and options you don’t need.

· In some cities, you need to find this out when you visit different cities, when you are driving you are allowed to turn right at a red traffic light after you stop and the way is clear. This is not allowed in Montreal and New York City. Right not left!

· Driving while Under the Influence of any intoxicant, even of prescription drugs, is illegal.
· Vehicles entering a main road do not have the right of way and must stop until the way is clear.

· Drive in lanes only, you will be ticketed if you drive down the lines on the road.

· In

Canada

, vehicles have daylight running head lights, which are on all the time. But you must turn on all the regular lights at night as well.

· Horn honking is rarely used unless you’re a goose.

· There is a difference between Yielding and Merging. Of course, not all North American drivers know this either.

· Drivng while using a cell phone or other device, such as an iPod is not allowed in most places. Pull over to talk. No text messaging while driving either.

Re Bicycles: In some cities like Toronto, children are required by law to wear a bicycle helmet. Most adults wear them too.

Waiting At the Train Station

2010-01-14T12:02:00.008+05:30

I was standing on the platform waiting for the train as I was returning home from Gurgaon, just south of Delhi where I was meeting with the head of Cairn’s corporate responsibility department when I started a discussion with a well dressed elderly Indian man. He told me he had two doctorates, one in philosophy and one in economics. He was also very knowledgeable in geography as during our discussion he could name all the Great Lakes in Canada/US.

Our conversation moved into a discussion on the poor in India, as it usually does given the work I am in. We talked about how the poverty index was an inaccurate and outdated measurement of the poor, as it only considered how many calories a person ate to determine their status. (this has recently changed to encompass a better measure. The World Bank estimates that 456 million Indians or 42% of the total Indian population, now live under the global poverty line of $1.25 per day. Enterprises in the Unorganized Sector (NCEUS) found that 77% of Indians, or 836 million people, lived on less than 20 rupees per day. Reference is Wikipedia)
As we spoke another man who was standing nearby was listening intently to our conversation. He couldn’t resist the urge to step in and challenge the assertions of poverty we were discussing. He was a professor of mechanical engineering at Gurgaon University, and was very concerned that I had the wrong impression of

India

. He did agree that the amount of poor was always going to be determined on how you measure them and that the huge population of

India

was going to make these issues appear much greater in raw numbers. But he felt that there were not as many poor in the country as I indicated and in any case, the situation was improving. I told him I hoped he was right, that would be great for

India

and its people.
The train then came down the track and I had a problem. I had a reservation in coach B3. It turned out that on this train there were two B3s. Which one should I choose? I went to the Enquires desk and the man there, who fortunately spoke English told me that the B3 in the front end of the train went to Barmer and the one in the back went to Jaisalmer. Up until then I was very impressed with the

India

rails system, but why couldn’t they just give one of the B3 coaches another name? Then, to add to the confusion, there are lighted sign posts on the platform which tell you where each coach will stop. I waited by the B3 sign near towards the front of the train. But the B3 coach it didn’t stop there and so I started to run towards the back of the train to find the coach. It could have been a kilometer run (it was a very long train) and the train only stops for about 5 minutes. Fortunately the coach was only a few back from where it was supposed to be and I got on to find my seat waiting for me. All’s well that ends well. November 27, 2009

"Experience is not what happens to a man.

It is what a man does with what has happened to him" - Aldous Huxley

Kullu Trip, Part Two: Delhi to Kullu and Manali

2009-12-22T13:59:00.003+05:30

Before I left for each section of my trip I studied various maps so that I would not have to stop to look at them on route. Getting from Mike’s in Delhi to highway number1, heading North was relatively easy, with only one minor wrong turn. But the highway itself was a mess. You would travel a few kilometres on modern 4 lane highways only to come to and abrupt end leading to one-lane dirt roads jam packed with all the traffic trying to squeeze together at once and dust everywhere. Motorcycles usually took to the very left side and often went off not just on the shoulder, if there was one, but off to fields and parking lots and through any opening a bike could fit. There I was, dirt biking with my heavily packed camel. Then after a few kilometres of this, things changed back to a good road. This went on many times for the whole trip to Chandigarh.

I wanted to stop in Chandigarh for the night as it would get dark long before I could get to Kullu. The maze through/around Chandigarh, and it was a maze, caused me to stop frequently to ask for directions which left me on the other side of town. This is where I eventually wanted to go, but I was then past all the possible hotels or guest houses I could possibly stay at. So I went on hoping to find some place to stay, even if it was a cozy field. As luck would have it, a roadside hotel appeared in the middle of nowhere (literally) and I stopped to find that it was clean and cheap, only 400 rupees ( about $8 CDN) for the night, and they had a veg and non-veg restaurant. It was also the holiday Divali, a night of celebration using as many fireworks as you could afford, and the staff at the hotel were into it. I spent many hours with them watching them light flares and rockets and noise makers of all types. I also made sure to move my bike well out of the way from where they were ‘playing’ with fire.

The next morning was bright and crisp and I got up early to set off after a quick breakfast. This for me was really the beginning of the trip I had imagined. For it was from here that I left the flats of the plains and valleys and headed up into the foothills of the Himalayas. I started to get excited about the changing road conditions to being narrow, twisty, rising steeply with spectacular scenery.

See http://picasaweb.google.ca/lh/sredir?uname=takefman&target=ALBUM&id=5401657524798382017&authkey=Gv1sRgCPnc_bePuuDo5wE&feat=email

I stopped often to take pictures because you really couldn’t watch the road and look at the scenery at the same time, unless that is you wanted to become a part of the scenery. The temperatures were changing too. In the sunlight it was hot, but at the instant I drove into a shadow it was cold. I stopped to put on a vest. The rest of the journey to Kullu then was just one big smile. Except for a very very long tunnel (the Aut Tunnel) through the center of a mountain, I think it must have been over 3-4 kilometres long, dark and dangerous, the trip was wonderful.

When I arrived in Kullu I did not notice as I passed the hotel where I was to stay (The Vishali) and went through and past the center of town. So I stopped to call Heidi to ask for directions and didn’t look to see where I put my foot down and I stepped into one of the side sewer trenches and lost my balance, falling with the bike onto the road. My camera jumped off my neck (I carried it on me to take pics) and I managed not to get caught under the bike. In a matter of nano-seconds there was a huge crowd around me. I got up, dusted myself off and went over to the bike. I couldn’t lift it. Even without all my luggage on it, it was too heavy for me, so I signalled to two young guys who are watching me to come over and help lift, which they did. I gave the bike a quick check over, it was ok, I was ok, my camera was ok and so I quickly got out of being center attention.

I did find the hotel and settled in for three days. I later met up Heidi and Steve, who came over and we went off to an Italian restaurant nearby. Not something I had expected and it was very good. Kullu is very touristy, with lots of westerners and lots of Royal Enfield’s and repair shops. I felt safe.

On my second day there Steve and I did a short climb up the mountain that Kullu rests on and later I got him to agree to get on the back of the bike for a drive up to Manali. So the next day we borrowed a helmet from the owner of the Italian restaurant and off we went. There are two roads to Manali. One on each side of the river. We took the smaller east side road, which has more flavour and less traffic. Manali is only about 50 or less kilometres from Kullu but we took our time and got there in time for some momo’s for lunch (a momo is a dumpling, steamed or fried). If I thought Kullu was touristy, then I have to come up with a new word for more-touristy for Manali which has a large selection of 4 star hotels. Tourists go there for helicopter skiing, hang gliding, mountain trekking and the hot springs. It’s a small town but packed with people and stores and lots of restaurants. We had decided not to spend time in Manali but instead drove a little more to get to the hot springs at Vishisht, just 3 kilometres north. My pictures of the springs for some reason didn’t come out as well as I hoped but you can get a pretty good flavour of what they are like at this YouTube site: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VScPnD7uX18

We planned a short day because the sunrise and sunset in the mountains is two hours shorter at both ends of the day and as I don’t like to drive at night we took our hot dip in the springs and then took a leisurely trip back to Kullu. I did the trip again the very next day to get more pictures, which I couldn’t do while Steve was on the back of the bike. On that trip I stopped at a German coffee house and chatted with, believe it or not, two Germans, while sipping on some brewed coffee and relishing a real chocolate croissant. On my last day in Kullu I went to Heidi and Steve’s farewell party, which was arranged by the people from her ashram, so I got to meet a lot of those very nice folks.

Then off I went the next morning to find the road to the pass leading out of the Kullu Valley and crossing the mountains to Mandi. I was told the road, that started in the small town of Bajaura, would be difficult to find as it looks like a laneway, but I found it with help and headed up the pass. About 4 kilometres up my throttle cable broke and I was left with a loose cable in my hand. But I glided back down to the town at the bottom of the road and was able to ride to a Bullet Bike shop by pulling on the cable for acceleration. Of course this meant that if I had to stop suddenly I didn’t have my hand on the break handle. An hour after the cable broke and less than 100 rupees later, I was back on the road going up the pass again. This pass had smaller roads, steeper cliffs, more breathtaking scenery and lots of turnoffs so I stopped often to ask directions. This turned out not to be a language problem issue as most people in the region had basic English. Go to Google Maps and get directions for Kullu, HP to Mandi, HP and you will see the route taken.

The drive to Dharmshala, along a long wide valley with the beautiful mountains always on my right and getting highlighted by the setting sun as I drove north west. I found another inexpensive hotel just before Dharmshala for the night. It too had a food service but only for veg meals, which was still welcome. Coming next: McCleod ganj, the Dalai Lama and me.

"Vegetarian - that's an old native word meaning 'lousy hunter.'"

Kullu Trip, Part One: The Road to Delhi.

2009-12-02T10:07:00.001+05:30

7:45 am. I had waited outside my house in the dark, doors and gate locked for 15 minutes for a supposed group of staff who said they’d be there to see me off on my trip. They didn’t come, I left at 6am, as per my schedule. I was eager to get onto the road. Ten minutes later I was outside of Barmer City on an empty road (a rare thing in India) heading East, driving at a respectable speed of 60kph through the desert air. And it was cold. I didn’t want to stop, the journey had started there was no stopping. Less than an hour later I was too cold to drive and so I pulled over to put on a sweater, jacket and gloves.

“Why didn’t I do that before” I chastised myself, feeling much more comfortable. Of course an hour later, after sunrise, I had to take the extra clothes off as the temperatures quickly rose to sweat levels.

First stop was Balotra, some 100 kilometres away where the Patwari’s home was. Lalchand Patwari, father of Vishal lent me his Bullet 350cc motorcycle for my adventure. So stopping off at their home was a mandatory and a grateful first stop. During my hour stay there I was honoured with a short send off ceremony by Vishal’s mother Laxmi. She hand fed me some special sweet foods, put a teekah on my forehead and tied a coloured string around my right wrist. It’s still there.

Then off I went to my next stop at Jodhpur where I had to have some additional work done on the bike. So far so good, I was feeling very comfortable with the journey as I had previously traveled these roads before. I would still be comfortable afterwards but I would also have the constant feeling of wanting to confirm and reconfirm I was on the right road. Signage is not that great in India. This obsessive mental state paid off for me a few times along the way as I often merrily motored off down the wrong way.

In Jodhpur I found the Royal Enfield shop as I had before and had them make a few adjustments and put a new speedometer in. While waiting for the repair I dropped my helmet and it landed directly on the visor which got a big scratch on it exactly at eye level where I would be looking through it. Was this a bad omen for the first morning? I got used to it.

I found the right road out of Jodhpur and headed to Jaipur to spend the night with Joe at his NGO Pravah. I had been there before (by train) so I sort of knew where it was, but I arrived at Jaipur at night and I got lost, despite stopping constantly asking for directions. Finally I pulled up to an auto-rickshaw and asked him to lead me to Bapu Nagar where Joe was. He agreed to do this for 30 rupees and I was happy to finally get off the bike and get together with Joe for some supper. (which was a whole chicken teka and beer, one for each of us.)

The next morning I headed out early for Delhi. Leaving Jaipur wasn’t as bad as getting into it and I was soon on the killer highway dodging trucks that were often heading straight at me. Needless to say this wasn’t one of my favourite parts of the trip. I did stop along the way at roadside stands to eat and rest and made it into Delhi in a quick 5 hours. I found Mike’s place relatively easily as I had studied Google maps closely and memorized the route. It was a dirty trip, Delhi air is very polluted and my orange shirt was noticeably blackened by soot all over it. It was good to get to Mike’s, my Delhi home.

Show me a sane man and I will cure him for you. - Carl Gustav Jung

Some Basic Concepts for Driving in India

2009-11-11T11:48:00.003+05:30

So you fancy yourself ready to drive the hi-ways, by-ways and no-ways of India. Well let me tell you that it can be a very rewarding experience. After every ride you go on you will get out of your car, or off your bike and kiss the ground you rode on in gratitude that you survived another misadventure.

Actually there’s basically one or two concepts that I want to share with you that has helped me survive my recent travels from Barmer, Rajasthan to Manali, Kullu and back and these are:

Concept 1) Always drive defensively.

Now this may seem self evident, but after you have driven a while you may have the tendency to become a little to confident in your skills and analysis of the driving patterns you engage in and think to yourself that you’ve got it. So here’s my next concept for you to mull over.

Concept 2) When you think you’ve got the hang of driving in India, stop where you are and slap yourself strongly enough to get rid of that egotistical thought.

Why, because you will never understand Indian driving and there is a good and logical reason for this: no one does or ever will. Here’s why: You see some drivers here think there are rules and try to abide by them, some know there are rules and just ignore them, some are not even aware of any rules and drive as they wish, some are too young to drive but drive anyway and have no concept of anything, let alone driving and should be driven far away from as possible, and most drivers don’t have any idea what driving is all about, from etiquette to the physics of moving masses and beyond.

Please understand, all this seemingly negative or dismissive talk about the way Indians drive is none of the sort. I am merely trying to describe the driving scene as I see it and have experienced it. In all considerations of the “art” it always comes down to Concept 1 above.

So what does it mean to drive defensively? Will to start with, you must always where a helmet when driving a motorcycle. I know that when you look around and you see that most bikers do not wear a helmet and you like the feeling of the air blowing through your hair and catching bugs in your teeth. But you also love yourself (or at least respect yourself) and so show the world your love and respect and put the hard hat on. You will also be doing a community service by modeling to those who don’t wear helmets, the right/safe way to drive. And besides, if you do have an accident resulting in a head injury and you were not wearing your helmet, you health insurance will be invalidated.

But there are many other good reasons to wear a helmet: the visor keeps bugs, stones, dust and heat (or cold) off your face. If you drive long distances with no helmet (or the visor is up) your eyes will quickly dry out and get irritated as will your lips. Hence you are no longer kissable. A helmet also keeps your head a bit cooler/warmer as it insulates your head from the outside heat/cold, especially if your are using a white coloured one, which I think is the insurance rule in any case.

Driving defensively also means never, and I mean never never never never take your eyes and mind off the road. No daydreaming, not putting your vehicle on automatic control, no looking around to admire the scenery (unless you desire to become a part of the scenery). Driving in India means having a long attention span. If you don’t have one now, you will. Why, because every conceivable and inconceivable obstacle will come at you from all directions. Let me list a few so you get the idea:

Cars, trucks, buses, military vehicles, construction vehicles, motorcycles and scooters, bicycles, three wheelers, tractors, ox carts, camel carts, horse carts, goat carts, people (every variety), dogs, goats, cows (and you already know there’s lots of those around) cats, peacocks and hens, deer, chickens, vultures, rats and road hazards such as bricks, stones, boulders, sand, mud, glass, garbage, re-bar, dung (all types) holes and bumps, just to name a few. But there’s another catch, if you drive at night, most of these objects do not have any lighting whatsoever, including the motorized kind. And recall what I wrote in the previous paragraph, these challenges will come at you from the front, head on (remember the rules of the road: there are none), from the sides and rear and even from above and below. Never underestimate a falling tree or a truck that is packed too high and is about to rip out the power lines above it while you’re driving behind it.

Again, let me reassure you that although these things may seem comical to our foreign ways, these things all exist and happen (but not necessarily at the same time, but then again I suppose I could be proven wrong on this point).

Another lesser known defensive driving technique that I have found to work in many situations, is just to stop where you are, or in some cases like when a truck in heading directly at you at 100 kph, get off the road a.s.a.p. or sooner. When I first drove in India back in 1976 I was told that one of the rules of the road was that the slowest vehicle has the right of way. A bit oxymoronic I admit, but I have found that when I can’t figure out what to do in a complicated situation I just stop and wait for the dust clouds to clear. But use your judgement on this on as it pertains to Concept 1.

And one more little thing. If at all possible, don’t drive at night. Some of the reasons for this have been mentioned above, like objects on the road with no lighting, but also when there are vehicles with lights they will normally be on the high-blind-the-driver-coming-at-you level. And as a matter of interest the signs you see on some trucks that say: “Use your dipper at night” has no known English translation.

Hope these few thoughts don’t scare you off the road, but if you are planning a trip by vehicle somewhere, please call me for a whole lot of other details that could fill volumes.

I love to travel, But hate to arrive. -Albert Einstein

Chanchal

2009-09-25T13:40:00.008+05:30

Chanchal is a 33 year old woman, married to Sudhir Tailong. She has a beautiful 5 year old daughter Sabhya who comes over to the office after school and loves to play with me. Chanchal works in our office as a part time consultant and I have recently been working on some R&D with her on the drought situation in Rajasthan in order to write a paper to find funds for the local villagers. (see the report at http://societytoupliftruraleconomy.blogspot.com/ )

Chanchal is first of all a very beautiful woman with an intense look when she speaks with you. I often feel like the rabbit caught in the headlights of the car, unable to move. She is a very intelligent and sensitive to the pain and suffering of those in need. This sensitivity drives her work. It has been a real pleasure to watch her work and be a part of the effort to we share here at SURE.

She also is an amazing dresser. Maybe it’s me, but I don’t think in all the time I’ve been here I’ve seen her in the same outfit twice and always a beautiful sari.

She has also been a good friend, helping me from the beginning to find a home and settling in, being concerned when I have been sick and helping me find resources for my home. I am very grateful to know her and know we will continue our friendship even after I leave India. In fact, I have been encouraging her to come to Canada with her husband and daughter.

The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other’s life.

Rarely do members of one family grow up under the same roof. - R. Bach

Attachments

2009-09-10T14:16:00.001+05:30

Reflections

2009-09-09T14:09:00.001+05:30

There is always so much a parent wants to share with their children. Some of these things are cleverly disguised lessons in life, but most of it is just a sharing of family history. Sharing like this is a very important part of making and maintaining relationships. Perhaps this is a part of our human need to tell each other stories and pass on our personal tradition. A young child, say from 1 to 25 years old, is not that interested in family history. For them the world is an amazing and evolving place, one that will go on forever, so why dwell in the past? Time, as we know, changes that perspective.

I am 57 years old. When I think about how fast time has gone by I can not fathom how it does it or what is I think I am experiencing. When I think back 20 years, I was only a just learning to be a father. If I try to imagine 20 years from now, 77, it does not even register an image in my brain. Maybe my journey will over, but if not, and I certainly hope not, I hope I am still energetic about the adventure I have been traveling on all these years.

There is still so much I yearn to learn, to do, to go, people to meet, foods to taste, music to play. I have been interested in so many aspects and details of life that I never know when to put something down. Today I am reading David Bornstein’s book on social entrepreneurs and I feel a great kinship with what he is writing. I keep saying to myself as I read: “ I did that!” and “I just wrote that in my proposal!” or “I learnt that when I interviewed the Indian NGO consultants!” And so on. I may be a social entrepreneur, but only a baby one. In any case I will need a few more decades before I can really call myself one.

Here in India I am discovering a new culture. Actually many cultures, as there are so many that are laid out across my door. And within each culture are sub-cultures and sub, sub cultures, each with their own wonderful flavours and surprises. How do I share this information with my child? How do I tell her she may not have another chance to spend with her dad, intimately exploring the exotic landscape and people of India? She is miraculously caught up in the enjoyment of her own budding career. There no time for family or adventures now. Time as we know, will change that perspective. But will it come in time?

I lived for thousands and thousands of years as a mineral.
Then I died and became a plant.
I lived for thousands and thousands of years as a plant.
Then I died and became an animal.
I lived for thousands and thousands of years as an animal.
Then I died and became a human being.
Tell me, what have I ever lost by dying?
- Rumi

The Day I Saw the Prime Minster of India

2009-08-30T10:42:00.001+05:30

The afternoon before the day the PM was going to be in Barmer to dedicate the new Cairn oil well to the nation I did not have an invitation. I tried to get my NGO to arrange one for me as they all had invites to go but no such luck. So I called my connection in Cairn, Shankar and he told me I could come, he would have my invite at the entrance.

That night I didn’t sleep well as I discovered that no one in the office was going to the event, except maybe Hitesh. Most were out of town for various reasons and no one could tell me where the event was. My Shankar’s phone was not working, or he was too busy planning the celebration to answer. So I didn’t know when or where and I really wanted to go to see the PM for some strange reason. I got up early and ate a good breakfast and then proceeded to make multiple calls and drove around to try to find out the necessary details I needed. Finally Hitesh called me and told me to hold still, he got me Magraj Jain’s pass, which he delivered to me, and told me to go get the invite from Mr. Jain’s house. At the house no one had any idea of what I was talking about. So I left with some sketchy instructions about where the event was, some 25 kilometres down the road and hoped for the best. Actually finding the place was easy. The road way had been all cleaned up for the PM visit and there were signs everywhere. Security at the parking lot was intense, soldiers and security guards everywhere. I parked my motorcycle and went up to one of the Cairn staff, who were all dressed in their blue coveralls. One of them recognized me and got me an invite and helped me pass the security check. I got onto a bus which took us another 4 kilometres to where a huge tent had been set up. But first there was another security check and without a proper pass I was not able to go beyond that point. Fortunately I spotted another Cairn blue boy and called him over. I got him to call Shankar who came right over and cleared me through and then took me to the next security check at the VIP entrance. He got me through that as well and I went inside to a very nice, very large air conditioned tent with room enough for about 3 thousand people. I sat down with some water and waited. I was the only person who did not have a brightly coloured pass hanging around his/her neck. And of course I was one of the few white people there too. Finally the PM came, speeches started and then were over. The PM gave a short lack-lustre speech, turned a wheel valve to signify that the oil had begun to flow and one hour later the whole show was finished. Well almost, there was lunch to come. I went into the VIP lunch room where a short press conference was being held and then a most wonderful lunch buffet was available. I have to tell you I went right for the non-veg section and filled my plate with meat. I ate it all and then filled my plate with vegetables twice before having desert. As I was walking out I notice a familiar shape on the table where the presentations were held. There were two Toblerone bars out of their paper wrapper but in their tinfoil suits. A guy was cleaning up and I asked him for one which he gladly gave me. It melted a bit on the way home but was the real thing!

So that was it. I saw the PM, end of story. Lunch was worth it. Oh and I did speak briefly with the CEO of Cairn and he gave me his email address to continue our talk. However I put the paper in my shirt pocket and due to my sweating, the ink got wet and all blurrrred.

Typos are very important to all written form. It gives the reader something to look for so they aren't distracted by the total lack of content in your writing.” - Randy K. Milholland

Update on my work

2009-08-27T08:29:00.001+05:30

During my two years at Avid Projects, I was honoured by my clients for the work I did for them in managing the construction of their home. The Shiners (a client) bought me two really good tickets to Tolkien’s “Lord of the Rings” musical and then treated Christina and me to a wonderful Italian dinner.

Gordon Wiseman, owner of Avid Projects always treated me as an equal partner and we worked closely together on many projects, including those of Gillian Gillies, the interior designer, who took a fancy to our great management practices and started to use us regularly, including a major renovation project of her own house.

Today, I have been honoured again by the leadership of the NGO I work with: the Society to Uplift Rural Economy (SURE). They have reviewed my 65 page proposal for capacity building in their organization and have agreed with all my suggestions on how to change the organization to make it sustainable, healthy and strong. They have accepted me as their change facilitator and soon I hope to work closely with the Executive Board of SURE to launch a local fund raising campaign and a search for a new Executive Director. These are exciting times for all of us.

On the side, that is in my spare time, I have also been involved with some minor projects concerning VSO India and doing peer reviews with fellow volunteers.

I thought some good family news would make your day.

Love Mark

August 26, 2009

“Experience is that marvelous thing that enables you recognize a mistake
when you make it again.” - F. P. Jones

From Neil with love

2009-08-24T14:28:00.001+05:30

My brother Neil wrote me:

“Hi Mark, I love reading of your adventures and am envious as I have had many of my own having traveled to more than thirty countries and lived in several from six months to a year. I was one of the few travelers to be more interested in the locals than other travelers and as a result have had many adventures from funerals, to weddings to parties based on the dreams of elders. Parties that would go on for three weeks. It was always an interesting experience and filled me with much joy. Ah the gifts of life.”

As I read his envious words and also began to wonder about his crazy adventures, another thought came into my head. While I have been only recently writing a BLOG of my adventures in India, I think I have been living my life so that all of what I do is an adventure, or misadventure as the case often is. The only difference now is that I’m writing about it. But while I lived on the West coast of British Columbia, I had many adventures every week from learning how to SCUBA dive, sailing around the Pacific islands learning to sail, climbing the various mountains nearby, playing music with many people and groups, dining out for new foods, driving snow covered roads in the mountains with no snow tires, camping out in those snowy hills, kayaking the coast both alone and with others, discovering and working with new people and discovering new materials, systems and processes, and so on. Isn’t this the way for all of us, except we sometimes forget that we are on an adventure?! Einstein said that he loved to travel, but hated to arrive. Maybe that’s the secret, keep everything in the moment of wondrousness, new and fresh. Or as my old mentor said: Be Here Now Remember.

Remember that the best relationship is one in which your love for each other exceeds your need for each other. – Dalai Lama

Of Bikes and Biking

2009-08-23T12:08:00.001+05:30

Of Bikes and Bikings

I was invited with Vishal to another Muslim wedding. Vishal and I decided to go there on our own motorcycles. It was about 60 kilometres away and we left just before sunset riding, where we could, side by side in absolute perfect air temperature. It was exhilarating to be riding down long two-lane roads in the semi-arid desert. We were both wearing helmets for those of you concerned. But the helmets protected us from the many insects we collided with along the way. Sunset turned to evening as we turned off down some narrow dark roads looking for the light. The light was the decoration of multi-flashing coloured lights that all weddings, Hindu or Muslim, use for such events. And way off in the distance we saw them. At some point we had to turn off the paved road and go onto the hard sand, weaving in and out between the brush to the little village of Garda.

We arrived and were welcomed like heroes returning, ushered into a room and served tea, raisins and cashews. It took us about two hours of driving to get there, and we were still early for the celebration. Despite the lights and sound of people, there was a deep dark silence in the desert. The stars here have their own sharp illumination. I’ll spare you the details of the event itself, save to say that after supper the music began, played by many international folk musicians from Rajasthan. And I mean international. Many of them had just come back from tours of Europe and one group from doing a recording at the BBC in London, England. Needless to say we heard and saw some of the best Rajasthani music in the country. I, of course, fell asleep on the ground sheet early on, even though they did use a sound system with the volume set to about 150%, I still managed to sleep. If you recall, I was at this same village at a previous wedding where the music was also fantastic, but very intimate in a small room and live with no sound system. I prefer that way to listen to music. Around 3am, I awoke feeling very refreshed and looked over to Vishal and asked him if he wanted to return to Barmer, but he had not slept and from the look on his face, I saw he needed to. So he lay down and dozed off while I wondered into the desert, a dangerous thing to do as earlier that evening a poisonous snake was killed as it tried to come into the village. I just wanted to get right out of the light and sound for a few moments to feel the cool night breeze as I gazed into the heavens. So I did, and I didn’t meet up with any snakes, scorpions or lions, tigers or bears. I did hear a wild peacock in the distance calling out to me to come back. That’s what they call out I’m told.

I wandered back into the village thinking I better get some additional sleep. I found a blanket on the ground near our motorcycles, shook one out to get ready to sleep on it when one of the guys saw me and went and got me a bet cot with a mattress, blanket, pillow and bottle of water. How very sweet it was of him. He helped me put it in the shadow of a nearby house and I fell asleep looking up at the stars with the desert breeze gently blowing over me. I didn’t think I would need the blanked, but around 5am I pulled it over me for warmth. An hour later I heard Vishal’s voice call to me to wake up, we had to go. He had to go to work that morning in Nagar, a village far off to the south of Barmer. I managed to get a cup of chai (the musicians were still at it!) and then we drove off into the sunrise though the desert. There was not any traffic at that time and we made good time back. This was my first road trip, albeit a small one, but I got a taste of what was to come and I felt very good about it.

Bullet

I have made an offer to buy a Royal Enfield Bullet 350 cc motorcycle from one of the local boys. He is the son of a wealthy man and but he bought the Bullet without his father’s permission and now he has to sell it as his father disapproved of his action. He paid 72,000 rupees for it new. It has about 3 thousand kilometres on it so it is still new but I offered him 50,400 rupees, or 30% off the new bike price. I await his answer, but as people have learnt of my offer I have been asked if I could sell the bike to them when I leave in 20 months. I would take it with me back to Canada but I have inquired to the transport office there and it doesn’t meet the emission requirements. So I have at least two offers to buy the bike I still don’t own. And just to make the situation a bit more humorous, today as I was driving back to my house on my little 100cc Honda Splendor, I met the guy with the very Bullet I want to buy. He stopped when he saw me and asked me if I would sell him his bike back when I left India! This is too funny, now I have three offers. He hadn’t yet decided on my offer at that time. But I hope to hear from him soon for the next negotiation. This should be interesting.

“I love to travel, I hate to arrive.” – Albert Einstein

Mobiles, Police and Illness

2009-08-14T09:56:00.001+05:30

Off off and away

The volunteer conference was held at the Bundelkhand Hotel in Orchha this year. Before I left Barmer to spend a few days in Delhi with Mike, I submitted my completed work proposal to my bosses. (feedback to date has been very positive, Mr. Jain calls it the Bible!). In Delhi I picked up a cold from Bolbol, one of the kids at Mike’s house. Then to add insult to that I stayed out in the sun too long and got sun stroke again. So my trip to Bundelkhand by train was spent sleeping. And most of my time at the hotel/conference was in a daze. After a few days a doctor was called in to see me. He gave me a handful of many coloured pills to deal with my symptoms and I did begin to feel a bit better after that. But my appetite seems have disappeared (and is still not back this 14^th day of August).

On my way back to Barmer: I had arrived in Delhi at the new train station and had to take the Metro to the old train station for my train. During that short trip between stations someone picked my mobile out of its holder. I managed to find a pay phone at the old station and call the VSO emergency number to see if they could call Vodaphone to cancel my service. Still in a daze I got onto the wrong train car, A1 instead of A2. The train conductor told me to get off in an hour and make my way up the train to the A2 car. I did that, but the train didn’t stop long enough at the station for me to make it all the way up to A2. The train started to move and I ran along seeing only the luggage car beside me. But with my back pack on I couldn’t get a good leap onto and into the car and I was about to fall out back to the platform when two guys in the luggage car pulled me inside safely. There were eight guys sitting around in the luggage car, no luggage, and two of them spoke a little English. So they told me that I could get off in a few stops to get up to the A2 car. It was nice sitting in the luggage car, with its big doors open on both sides and the wind swirling around inside. Half an hour later I made it to my right seat where I had to ask some guys to move, as they had taken over my seat perhaps thinking I had not made the train. After that I slept until the next morning when we arrived back in Barmer.

Mobiles and Police

I went home and put my stuff away and immediately went to the Vodaphone store see if my phone was cancelled. It was blocked and I was able to get a new phone and sim card for only 1,050 rupees with my same phone number. I took the information I needed about the old phone and went to the police station to report my missing phone. At the police station, four guys behind desks in a small room looked at me and wondered what to do with me. Finally, one guy got out two blank pieces of paper with a piece of carbon paper in-between. He put it in front of me and told me to write out my report. So I invented a Lost Mobile Report form and filled in my details and that of the phone. I didn’t mention it was taken in Delhi, as they would have asked me to fill out the report there. But it was important, according to friends at SURE, that I fill out a missing mobile report in any case. After I did my writing the man behind the desk stamped both papers, signed and dated them and gave me one for my records. What this all means I haven’t the faintest idea.

Back Home

I went to see the Sharma’s and they made me supper. And as usual they were not happy that I ate so little. I went home, turned on my AC and slept. Not only did I not feel like eating, my stomach was upset too. I tried to eat a banana and drink some water, but I couldn’t do more than that. Vishal came the next day with some lunch which I tried to eat, forcing myself, but only a little. I watched some movies (that I downloaded from others while at Bundelkhand) and slept. This morning (August 14) I’m feeling a lot better, although I still don’t feel hungry. So I went into the office to catch up on email, write this blog and wait for the power to come back on (it’s off from 8am to 12noon everyday) so I can get back to my AC once again and to sleep.

Nasrudin walked into a teahouse and declaimed, "The moon is more useful than the sun."  "Why?", he was asked.  "Because at night we need the light more."

Invitation to view Mark Takefman's Picasa Web Album - Bundelkhand

2009-08-11T11:46:00.001+05:30

Pictures from the VSOI conference in Orchha at the Bundelkhand Hotel

http://picasaweb.google.ca/lh/sredir?uname=takefman&target=ALBUM&id=5368582734025263249&authkey=Gv1sRgCPiP_IXD7b6n3QE&feat=email

Driving to Breakfast

2009-07-25T14:09:00.001+05:30

Driving in India, 101

I wonder if I should even be writing about this to you. I know after you read this you will kindly, and maybe even urgently, advise me to stop this silly nonsense of driving in India. But alas you also know I will most likely continue to ride the roads.

So it’s like this: In the West we drive on the right side. In India they drive on the left. But in Barmer, a special sub-section of India, they drive in the middle! It’s easy to understand why. For the most part the culture here in Barmer, as I’ve noted before, is still caught in a pre-technology past. The road/path ways of those times did not have lines down the middle or any right of way considerations. Everyone walked or drove their carts down the middle of the path and passed when necessary. All shared the road. And so you still see this kind of behaviour here. People will walk in the middle of the road while motor cycles, cars and busses zip by and around them. Even where there are road dividers for the left and right, you always have to pay attention to what is coming at you. You don’t have a “side of the road right of way”. You don’t have any right of way. This is not the same in the larger cities like Delhi, although you do find some of the same “discrepancies” there as well form time to time. In any case what I have discovered about driving here, which has been difficult for me to absorb, is that you only have to be concerned with what is in front of you or to your left. Again, this rule is not always practiced, but it generally works. Ok let’s say you are on a side street and you come to an intersection (no stop signs here to be concerned about and traffic lights have not yet been invented) and you are turning left, into the left lane. In this case you just go ahead, you don’t look to the right to see if any traffic are coming at you, you fully expect them to allow you to merge. No fear. Well I don’t buy that and I always check to my right, and when there is a potential collision I slow down, which in turn causes the expectation of the other drivers, that I should get right in front of them, to be blown and everyone looks a bit confused and pedestrians wonder what the Krishna is going on. I’m getting better at it but these days, but due to the unusual rain fall we have been having, the roads towards the bottom of the city are about a foot deep in brown sewage water, and this makes navigation very difficult no matter what the rules aren’t. I saw one guy on a motor cycle drive into a hole that he couldn’t see, as it was under the water. Everyone watching cheered. He was ok, but his bike was totally submerged. There are lots of such holes that are also invisible at the night when the roads are dry. Ok, then there is turning to the right at an intersection. This is much more dangerous for everyone. First of all you cut the corner on the right, so that if other vehicles are turning left onto your side road, you are now on the right side of them. Then you head into oncoming traffic, like a salmon swimming upstream, until you can find an opening to the left. If you turned into a divided roadway, then you might have to travel a bit into oncoming traffic until there is an opening. So recall once again why it is you have to pay attention to what is ahead of you.

Rules of size. Yes, the bigger you are the more status you have on the roads. Hence, if you are driving a large truck or bus you rule. Only military vehicles take precedence over everyone else. So I’m driving down the road just outside of Barmer and a truck ahead, coming towards me, is passing a cart. The truck coming right at me flashes his lights and I am forced to the side shoulder (that is if there is one, or it is not being taken up by a cow or people). This is typical and that’s why you watch for what is in front of you. So it’s military vehicles, trucks and busses first, and then cars and then motor cycles, followed by bicycles, carts (of all type, ie: camel, oxen, goat, horse, donkey, and humans). At the bottom of the list is people, they have no rights but you don’t want to hit them either. One great exception to all of the above, never hit a cow. You’d be better off to hit a person than a cow, I have been told this many times, so I have to believe it. Recall, there are more cows in Rajasthan than people. Maybe that’s because they are less likely to be involved in a traffic accident.

Breakfast of Indians

The Sharma’s (Satish [father], Pawan [mother], Supriya [daughter 20yo], Kushboo [daughter 17yo] and Niku [son 11yo] who were my neighbours until recently invited me to breakfast at their new home. It was rice with assorted vegetables mixed together (including hot chilli peppers) and coffee. I’ve had this before at Vishal’s house and elsewhere. It’s good but I’m not that fond of this for breakfast. Let’s just call it a cultural difference. So I invited them for breakfast, Canadian style. As it was easier for me to go to their house than the lot of them come to me, I packed up bag with all the ingredients I needed and biked over to their house through the sewage lakes (a.k.a. streets). The typical Canadian breakfast I presented to them was porridge (oats) with slices of mango and bananas and an optional sweet lassie, plus coffee (Indian style). No maple syrup available. I didn’t actually make the breakfast, Pawanji would not let me in her kitchen, so I just gave her instructions on how to make the porridge (with salt and sugar). I also brought my own bowls and spoons for them as I knew they didn’t have these, so we all sat and ate porridge with cut fruit on top. Pawanju ate in the kitchen. They said it was tasty. Oats in Hindi is Javi.

Pass carefully. Driver spits. (that’s another thing to watch for.)

Bulletin

2009-07-16T08:11:00.000+05:30

Bulletin

I went for my first ride on an Enfield Bullet (no I didn’t drive it). I was in Balotra at Vishal’s family home to celebrate his 24th birthday. Vishal gave me a tour of the town on the Bullet. It’s a heavy bike and sounds like a Harley with it’s deep muffler voice. As always, me with my Tilley hat being driven around on the bike by an Indian on a Bullet (which is an unusual motorcycle in these parts) made us the parade for the day.

Valley View

That night Vishal’s brother Parinit took me out to visit Valley View, a local development project that his younger brother Tarun helps to manage. Tarun couldn’t take me due to his having jaundice. The development was a collection of neatly spaced octagonal shaped one room little houses that people could buy or rent. There were several dozens of them all laid out nice and neat. There was a central meeting place with two pools, one for gents and one for ladies, a restaurant and other facilities. That night there was a draw to entice buyers. When you purchased a cottage (for about ten thousand CDN) you received a coupon that could win you a prize, like a car, motor cycle, TV and so on. Lots of people were there and of course a large buffet was being served. The stage was brightly lit and numbers were being called out identifying the winners. I had just met the owner of the whole complex when one of his staff asked me to go up on stage and pull some numbers out of the bucket. So I did. I was introduced to the smiling crowd, and in the mic I said my best Namaste to everyone before I picked out two sets of numbers. Riding back to the house on the Bullet in the cool night air was absolutely divine.

The AC Bill

I got a call from Chanchal who told me that I needed to pay my electric bill. But I didn’t have my electric bill I said. Go get it from the landlord, says she. So off I went to find Sonul my landlord at his shop Krishna Textiles where he gave me the bill which was due today. If I didn’t pay it now I would have to pay a hefty late penalty. Could he please give me the bill when it comes, I asked, but no, that’s not how it works. You see when the meter reader comes to the house, he prints out a bill and if you’re not there to take it, he gives it to a neighbour. The neighbours hold onto it until they remember to give it to the house owner my landlord, who then calls me at the last moment. The bill was for 7,152 rupees for the past two months of power. (divide by 40 for CDN $) I didn’t have that amount on me or in my bank account, and VSO India had not paid me my salary yet so I was up the dune without a camel. So off I went to my bank to draw upon my credit card like I’ve done before. But alas, today the ATM there decided to refuse my request. It was very stubborn and ignored me several times. So I went to another bank’s ATM at the train station, which was broken. Even so there was still along line in front of it. I always check first before getting into lines. Finally Vishal, who was now into helping me, found another ATM which was working and which recognized my card and so I was able to withdraw 8 grand. Then off I went to the Chemist shop (that’s where you pay your electric bills) and paid up. That whole process only took four hours. All in a days work.

Street Cleaning and B-Ball

I found a shovel in the organizations garage and brought it back to my house. My street has been dirty as there is a house being constructed across form me and the sand and mud has been washing all over the road due to the rivers of rain that come now and then. So with my trusty rusty shovel I bent over and pulled all the dirt back into a nice pile. Of course when ever I am out, my neighbours look out to see what I’m up to. They came out of their houses and smiled (and laughed) at my work. Meanwhile, I’m thinking that I’m setting a good example of cleanliness. Stop laughing. So a few hours go by and I hear some kids at my door calling me. About three young teenage boys are holding a blue basket ball and are asking me to come play with them. My friend Michael Rosenkrantz in Delhi, an avid, no crazed basket ball fan, who bought a b-ball to play with the slum kids during our in country training days, would never forgive me if I didn’t go play with the boys. In any case, I wanted to so off I went to the nice clean area right in front of my house. Oh my, a clean place to play in, see that my good neighbours! We passed the ball around and soon many other kids came to join the fun. I made sure the girls had a turn too as the boys were not throwing the ball to them at first. Later on they started to include them as well. As we were passing the ball, they each started to tell me their names, and slowly pronounce each syllable for me, allowing me to say it aloud. For one or two of the girls, who I couldn’t pronounce their names, we all just decided to call them Monkey. Everyone got a kick out of that. I’ll have to do the name routine many more times before I can remember them all. For now I’ll just call them all my little monkeys.

Binjrad Music

2009-07-06T10:44:00.001+05:30

Our monthly staff meeting is at a campus in the small hamlet of Binjrad. Several buildings on 5 acres of land about 70 kilometres outside of Barmer, close to the Pakistan border. When there I must register with the local military police as this is a restricted zone for foreigners. But I did get permission from the Barmer authorities (the Collector) and so it’s a small formality at the station and then I’m cleared to be in the area. The staff meeting was attended by an assortment of SURE people, all working on different projects. Seven of the 35 in attendance were women. Getting more women on staff is a problem in this area and culture. At the beginning of the meeting there was some singing and I also played a short tune on my dulcimer. Last month I played Gershwin’s Summertime on my recorder for them. They’ve never heard the blues here before, or even knew was it was, so it must have been quite an odd sound I played out. After the main meeting, at about 5:30pm, Jamal came over and started singing and encouraged me to pick up my dulcimer. Amazingly I discovered he was singing in my key of D and I was able to pick up on the beat and melody as we played and sang together with others joining in for about twenty minutes. No I didn’t sing. Then we figured out another song and another. Jamal took the dulcimer and began to experiment with it, holding it like a Vina (upright like a cello). I ran to my room and got my recorder and soon I was playing along as he began another song, which he tried to teach me to copy and we jammed again for another five minutes before everyone set off for some more meetings. But what fun to be able to catch on to this new Indian music for me and just enjoy the rhythms of the hot afternoon.

Today, like every other day, we wake up empty and frightened.

Don't open the door to the study and begin reading.

Take down a musical instrument.

Let the beauty we love be what we do.

There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.

- Rumi

Craig, Eggs and Eating

2009-06-22T16:21:00.004+05:30

Craig

Craig Cameron is from Aberdeen, Scotland but he now lives with his wife Lisa and three children in Singapore. He works for VAM, and is Mohan’s switchover. That is Craig works for a month here then Mohan comes in for a month and then they switchover. Craig is in his early 40’s and shaves his head bald. Which makes us look like the odd couple when walking down the street, as my hair has grown quite long and I now have a respectable pony tail out back.

Craig is a kind man and as I told him tonight at our regular beer meet, he’s no trouble maker. Actually I used the word “shit disturber” but I didn’t know if I should use that in the BLOG. We spend a lot of eating times together. He and I often share lunch of a CTM (chicken tikka masala) with rice, nan bread and a sweet lassie. Actually, we eat that almost every day. And it’s beer for dinner, although Craig has a soft spot for Vodka and Pepsi.

Over the past many weeks we have shared our many stories about our family and travels and the things we have come across in our lives and it’s been a real pleasure to get to know him. I hope one day I can visit both him and Mohan in Singapore, the city where they fine you $250 for spitting.

How to Transport Eggs and Make an Omelette

I buy my eggs from a cart vendor on the main street. They cost 3 rupees an egg. At 42 rupees to the CDN dollar, you figure it out. The vendor puts my usual order of ten eggs into a small black plastic bag and then into another for safe keeping. I put the plastic handles of the outer bag around my chin strap of my helmet, allowing the eggs to hang down below my chin. They transport very safely like this as I manoeuvre in and out and around and up and down in traffic. Once home I then go into the kitchen and remove my helmet and the eggs fall to the marble floor because I forgot they were there. This is the second time. Because they were in a second inside bag the collage inside stayed in place and I managed to pick out all the shells and then make a big omelette with tomatoes, onions and garlic, which I ate over a few meals.

What I Eat At Home

Lots of fruit: I always have a watermelon in the fridge along with mangos and sometimes apples and other fruit of the season. I keep tomatoes and cucumbers and potatoes in the fridge too. Onions and garlic are on the open shelf. I have Poppers, which we call Pappadums, ketchup (of course), Marmite, chutney, rice, soy stuff, and a variety of soups and ready to make noodles packages. I keep cashews and peanuts to much on. I have only one can of tuna and one can of sardines left that Craig brought me from Singapore when he came a month ago. Mohan, who will be returning promised to bring me some canned crabs. I like to mix these into the noodle packages and also add the veggies to it as well.

I drink lots of water and like to mix this mango drink (Maaza made by Coke) into the water for flavour. When I can find them, I buy these little boxes of Rose Flavoured Lassies which I also mix 50% with water, as they are too thick and sweet on their own. In Barmer they make a special local lassie which is more like thick yellow custard with its own particular spices added. And then there’s chai and coffee (the powdered kind). On the street I drink freshly squeezed orange juice (the oranges here are green) and when I can find it, I buy a fresh coconut and drink the water/juice in it. At weddings, and at restaurants I eat the regular Indian type foods and in the Indian tradition of eating with your right hand only. It’s messy but think of all the cutlery that doesn’t have to be washed. Once you eat this way a few times you will understand why all restaurants here have sinks by the entrance/exit. You wash in and you wash out. And as I mentioned above, I eat CTM and sometimes some mutton or fish. Fish is rarely found in the desert, apparently they have trouble swimming in the sand.

It is far more impressive when others discover your good qualities without your help.

Rain and My Second Wedding

2009-06-20T09:40:00.000+05:30

Rain

It came early this year. And a lot of it. How much? Let’s just say I don’t live on a street anymore, it’s now a river. During the evening the river was at least six inches deep. The cows don’t like it. The garbage flows quickly down the brown mixture. The sewage system is completely over run so we can estimate what the river contains. I will use a lot of soap when washing tonight. That is if the power comes back on and I can pump some water for a shower. My neighbours ran out of water and I allowed them to take some of mine. Many bucket loads later I noticed my own well was very low. So here I am in the dark, low on water, using the last of my computer’s battery life, needing a shower, and listening to the thunder and the rain that is leaking into my house through the plastic over my roof hole. Add to the image two candles weakly burning on a shelf very dimly.

If only I could use the roof as a catch basin, I could have filled the water tank by now.

My Second Wedding

The young man next door is married now. I was invited to various parts of the week long wedding, much of which was unfortunately cancelled due to sand, wind, rain and lightening storms. But this night I got dressed up in my fancy kurta, actually my only kurta, and my beige linen pants that I had custom made for me in Delhi and went to the feast. I went along with the family on the other side of my house, who I have befriended. They reminded me that I needed to give the married couple a gift, which is between 50 to 100 rupees in a nice envelope. The envelope matters and I had to run off to a local shop to get nice one. I gave 100 rupees: admission price. So off we walked just down the street (now a street again now that the water is gone) to a hall off a side street. We walked into the first floor area where the food was being prepared. It was black with black cooking utensils, pots and pans and people sitting on the ground cooking or making chapattis. And by the way, a roti and a chapattis are the same thing, so I learnt today. Up the stairs to the second story where hundreds of very nicely dressed men, women and children crammed together, eating off plates stuffed with all sorts of good food while being bombarded by VERY LOUD MUSIC. I got my plate and put my meagre dinner portions on (I don’t normally eat a lot for dinner) and found a place of relative safe to eat and watch the bride and groom be photographed with each guest. Of course I had my turn too. In this wedding, the groom was dictating all the instructions to the crew and making sure everyone had a picture taken with him and his new wife. Even though there were numerous ceiling fans, it was very hot inside and you could see everyone was sweating. I was the only white person there, and many stared at me and some laughed to see me in my Indian kurta. The kids all know me and came over to shake my hand and say Namaste. Getting to know and play with the kids on my street first has made it easier for their parents to accept this strange foreigner in their midst. (this is another story I’ve yet to tell) But it’s strange, so many people have told me I look Indian. I wonder if I should get a genetic profile done.

So we ate, we watched, we were photo’d and we left. That took about half an hour. I was told that nothing more happens at these events, so why have your ears damaged by staying. You can’t even have a conversation, not that I could have one in any case.

And one more thing, the bride, a lovely young girl, never smiled. I asked why: “Because she’s tired.” I was informed.

The world is your exercise-book, the pages on which you do you sums. It is not reality, although you can express reality there if you wish.

You are also free to write nonsense, or lies, or to tear the pages. – Messiah’s Handbook, R. Bach

Storms, Birds, Weather and Work

2009-06-17T10:29:00.001+05:30

STORMS

I could hardly believe the storms we had last night, first it got dark really fast, and I could hear the kids in the street screaming (with delight) as a sand storm hit us with a fury. You couldn’t' see anything, it was almost like being buried alive in the dunes, then after about an hour of that excitement with sand everywhere, a heavy rain storm made a total mess of the city spreading garbage, sand and mud everywhere. Newly formed rivers flowed down the street and the cows sought higher perches to get out of the flow. One was on my front step leaning against my outer wall looking quite miserable. But the air was cleaning up and cooling down. When that storm subsided, an non-stop horizontal lightening storm began for about three hours. Just was just amazing and quiet. Only a few rumbles of thunder off in the distance, but there was no thunder from these flashes, just a wonderful fast action display. All the while, my neighbours had invited me for dinner and we sat on the roof watching the lightening eating chapattis and aloo (potatoes). But as it was so nice and cool after the storm, I slept on the roof and fell asleep watching the last streaks of lightening.

BIRD UPDATE

I came home to find a baby bird, fully formed, on the floor in the house. As I approached it, it tried to fly but was not quite up to it yet. So I tried to cradle it in my hands to put it outside with it’s parents, who were wildly chirping away. I was not about to take over that role. I wasn’t able to catch it but did gently get it onto the front patio and there I left it with Mom and Dad. I haven’t heard any other sounds from the nest inside, so I guess there was only one bird up there, or one that made it.

WEATHER CHANGES

So I’m told that now, after the last two months of mid 40’s temperatures, we will have a change of weather: sand storms and rain. This may last a month, but the rain will continue for a while, when the temperatures will go down to some reasonable levels. In the winter months, December and January the night temperatures can go down to zero I’m told. So I can hardly wait, maybe I will get to wear my winter clothes.

WORK PROGRESS

My basic overview is just about finished now as I settle down to writing my notes and doing my analysis. I learnt quite a lot from the staff interviews I did and from interviews with some outside Indian NGO consultants. I have also been letting the administration know of my findings and where I’m going with my proposal both to test the waters of their reactions, which seems favourable to some degree, and to make sure they are not going to be surprised by my comments. Although there will be some surprises. My report is due August 1 and I told SURE that if they implemented my suggestions I would stay on to train and mentor as needed.

Parinda / Birds

2009-06-08T08:36:00.001+05:30

My house, like all the other houses in this neighbourhood, has an opening in the roof into a room below to let the heat out. There is a metal grid over it so you can’t fall through from the roof, but the birds easily go in an out.

The birds were constantly flying in and out and leaving their droppings in the house. I didn’t like this part of their cuteness. So I started blocking their entrances and exits. First I covered the hole in the roof with a carpet. That had two other advantages, 1) it kept the dust out, which is major in a desert, and 2) it kept the hot sunlight out, which is major in a desert.

Next I started keeping the front door closed, as they were sneaking in when they saw the slightest opening. And finally I put a sheet over the doorway going up to the roof. Still they managed to find ways around the sheet to get in. But once in they were having trouble getting out so I would have to open the front door and chase them out.

The last time two birds snuck in and began fluttering around the house, I was in my bedroom reading when I heard a thud noise and realised that one of them had probably been hit by the ceiling fan. I ran out and there it was lying hurt on the ground. It tired to fly but couldn’t. I opened the front door to let the other bird, still flying around, out and then helped the wounded bird out to the patio. I went back in the house to get some water and then returned to see the hurt bird, but it was gone. There’s no cats here, and I don’t suspect the cows got to it, so I hope it was only stunned and managed to fly away. But there is more.

I discovered why it was they were so insistent to get in the house. I heard some chirping, loud chirping and because of the bare walls here, I could not tell where it was coming from so I assumed it was some sound bounce from outside. To test my hypothesis I closed the door to block the sound. But it persisted. In fact it was coming from right above my head in a wall air vent (they put them in all over the houses for air movement). So I thought there were still some birds up in the vent. I got on a chair with my flashlight and looked in. Baby birds.

So I removed the door sheet and keep the door open now to let the birds in to feed their babies. I still keep the carpet up as that serves a better purpose. I hope that soon the babies will fly away and I’ll be able to secure the house again before the stand storm season, before the rainy season and the dreaded mosquitoes.

Note: Parinda is Urdu for birds but it is sometimes used in Inida.

View my Picasa Web Album - Children of India

2009-05-24T12:34:00.001+05:30

Children of India

23 May 2009
by Mark Takefman

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Camel Riding in the Desert

2009-05-22T10:20:00.001+05:30

Ok, it was not planned. My friend Craig (from Aberdeen) and I were invited to the Chouhan’s “farm”. At least that’s what they called it. It’s a 8 acre package of land 20 kilometres outside Barmer towards Pakistan. It’s 8 acres of desert. But it has a large stone crushing plant on it and what looks like a nice octagonal house, which is a party house, and has a water processing plant in the basement. They package small plastic bags of water which are sold for 1 rupee a piece. You rip a corner of the bag with your teeth, drink and then throw the bag away. That’s India.

They also had two camels. Craig seemed reluctant to get on, but was pressured to by Joghinda, the eldest son of Mr. Chouhan. So he gets on and the camel abruptly gets up. Craig is barely hanging on, jerking back and forth. My camel is now in the full lotus position on the ground waiting for me to get on board. I climb onto a very uncomfortable cloth with no place to hold onto anything. The camel abruptly gets up and I too struggle to hold on.

Then we walk. Yes we are being lead by men on the ground, but still it’s a bumpy ride and I realize, if the seats on my intended 3 day trek into the desert with some of my cohorts are not first class with extra foam, we’re going to get some real bad saddle sore.

Otherwise the walking was fine.

It was the getting off that didn’t happen according to plan. Craig got off ok, but my camel, now called “Mark” decided it was not going to lower itself down to let me off. It fought off the handler holding the rope/reigns, grunting and swearing, spitting and bouncing around. And yes, I am still on it’s back. Who knows, maybe it liked me there. I was feeling kinda helpless up there so I started to camel-whisper in it’s ear and it slowly calmed down and let me off. Really, you think I’m making up this stuff. Ask “Mark”.

PS. Craig’s camel is called “Craig”.

Web Album - माय न्यू Home

2009-05-19T10:53:00.002+05:30

माय न्यू Home

6 May 2009 by Mark Takefman

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Jaisalmer Fort

2009-05-13T16:27:00.001+05:30

Jaisalmer Fort is one of the largest of desert forts of the world. It is situated in Jaisalmer city in theIndian state of Rajasthan. It was built in 1156 AD by the Bhati Rajput ruler Rawal Jaisal, from where it derives it name.

Link to my pictures:

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Shifting Times

2009-05-08T09:48:00.001+05:30

The don’t call it Moving Day here, it’s called Shifting. Have you shifted your accommodation?

I did. A little auto-rickshaw pick-up truck style came round to stuff my gear, bed, desk, cooler, fridge, chairs, and other assorted things I’ve accumulated, into it’s small cargo space.

The price was fixed at 150 rupees but after the work was done the driver said he needed more money. I only had about 9 rupees more and so he had to settle for that.

After everyone who helped had left, and I was alone with all my junk piled in the house, the magnitude of the work that needed to be done sank in. I ran around here and there doing one little thing then moving to another. But the big job, was and still is, the cleaning of everything. One problem with cleaning the walls is that the paint comes off when you use water. It’s more like whitewash than paint. But it’s also splattered all over the floors, counters etc, so almost every inch of the place needs to be washed, at least according to Mark’s rules of cleanliness.

I turned on the pump, that supplies the water to the roof top tank from the water tank under the house. (no central water distribution here that works). It takes about an hour to fill, but unfortunately the down pipe in the wall which supplies the house, is broken and so the tank emptied itself into the walls and onto the floors. This I discovered in the morning. The landlord is on the case along with fixing some other minor details like broken light switches, a screen on the roof grid to keep the birds out, and removing a large ugly table. But I did sleep in the house that night with the ceiling fan blowing hot air onto me.

The fridge is not working, did I mention that. Fridges and air conditioners here need an electronic stabilizer as the power supply is inconsistent. So I don’t know if it’s the fridge or stabilizer. Help will be on it’s way.

The toilet for the house is Indian style so I bought an add-on device, basically a short chair with a toilet seat on it which fits over the Indian toilet. It works and it’s red.

The shower works too ( I have to turn on the pump to get water which leaks as I take a shower but otherwise I would not be able to until they fix the pipes.)

But it’s nice to be able to start setting out my things that have been stuffed in my backpack for almost two months. Of course I repacked all my winter clothes. But I will put out my pictures, Nomie (my travel Nome that Katie made me years ago) and my dulcimer etc.

I was cleaning the paint off the latch from the front door when a young girl of 20 came into the front patio, calling me Uncle, as they do here, and told me she was my neighbour and would I like some tea. She is in college and is going to major in English, fortunately for me. She asked me all the usual questions about my name, where I came from, where’s my family. I showed her a picture of Katie and she wanted to know when Katie was coming. She took the picture to show her mother who came out to be introduced. They told me that if I needed anything to please just ask. How sweet.

Later that day I heard the door bell chirp. (they don’t ring they chirp) and when I went to the front patio, there was about 25 people there including three women with their babies, about 15 kids of different ages and one guy, the spokesperson, with tiny baby Niki in his arms. The standard questions were asked and they asked to be let in. I wasn’t ready for that yet and I’ve been warned three times not to let people, especially kids into the house. So I made my excuses and wished them all a Namaste and they went back to their homes.

And by the way, there is a small herd of white cows right outside my house, they belong to my neighbours who milk them daily. They look interestingly eerie at night, standing there motionless in the streetlight.

So back to cleaning cleaning and cleaning and setting up my home. I will get some more furniture and carpets and wall hangings. Home Sweat Home. (sic)

There ain't no rules around here! We're trying to accomplish something!

Thomas Alva Edison (1847-1931) U. S. inventor

Water

2009-04-28T10:06:00.001+05:30

Water April 23 2009

It was most disturbing today to see a man drinking water. It wasn’t just any water, he was a thin man, partially clad in dirty clothes, couched down with a small plastic tea cup dipping into the open sewer system, drinking the dirty dark green water.

There are so many battles to fight here, what can one do?

Motorcycle

Today I got the company motorcycle to use to get me to and from my accommodation. As usual I went out to dinner with Mohan and we didn’t leave the restaurant until about 9pm. It was dark outside and the streets were bustling with people cows and vehicles. I made it home safely, dodging all these challenges. Many objects, including people, cows, bicycles, auto-rickshaws, cars and trucks don’t use (or have) their lights at night. It’s an interesting challenge.

Mandir Sunday April 26, 2009

I went up the mountain to the highest temple with Mohan. It was great up there. A gentle breeze cooled us down and the views were wonderful. One man who spoke some English told us about the temple but mostly about how he is not satisfied with his work and is in training for a better career.

See the views at: http://picasaweb.google.ca/lh/sredir?uname=takefman&target=ALBUM&id=5329302756595325969&authkey=Gv1sRgCNKuv-6z_vCH7AE&authkey=Gv1sRgCNKuv-6z_vCH7AE&feat=email

Traffic April 28, 2009

Had to stop on the road because two bulls where having a fight in the street and blocked all traffic. Then a large herd of goats stopped everyone.

“It is easier to fight for principles than to live up to them.” Alfred Adler

Accommodation and the Start

2009-04-23T16:37:00.001+05:30

Temporary Accommodation Number 3

The first was the KK Hotel. The first night was like sleeping in an oven so I moved into an air conditioned suite which was just fine for the second night.

The third night was on a mattress in the founders office floor. Again, not the most comfortable or coolest. The amount of effort that was being taken to try to make me feel ok left me no choice but to feel ok. Maybe it’s some sort of conspiracy.

The fourth night was, and you’re not going to believe this as it was a running joke in Delhi that I would have a lodging besides a camel stall. Well, pretty close, the small room, about 8 x 10 feet with a high ceiling and lots of geckos, was adjacent to a storage center for camel carts. This complex, just 7 kilo meters outside of Barmer was the center for a camel and cart project. They made up the room pretty nice, with a carpet and a nicely made double bed. They put in a fridge and a cooler machine, sort of a cheap air conditioner except it blows moist air out. I don’t understand the concept, as I always thought that when you increase the humidity you feel warmer, but this device makes you feel cooler as long as you keep it filled with water. Somebody explain it to me please.

Along with the room is my driver who is looking out for me. We don’t speak each others language but we seem to getting along fine. He helped me put up my pictures of the family on the wall and move the fridge into the small unlit kitchen. He will, I just found out, sleep on the cement floor beside my bed tonight. He also helped me unpack and I have to say this, when I pulled out a roll of toilet paper, he looked puzzled at what it was. He took the roll and examined it and seemed to have no clue. I must come from a very advanced culture or something with such high tech gadgets such as toilet paper.

I walked out down the road to see the stars and at first I couldn’t find the big dipper. After studying the formations I finally found it and for some reason, and this is why I didn’t see it at first, it appeared about half the size I know it to be, and it wasn’t the little dipper either. Must be this desert air.

"Behind every successful man is a woman, behind her is his wife. " - Groucho

Mohan and Accommodation

2009-04-23T16:34:00.001+05:30

Mohan (April 15, 2009)

Mohan is from Singapore. His parents were Indian and they left India before he was born. So Mohan looks like an Indian, except that he doesn’t speak Hindi. He works for a gas company and is here on business for a month or so. When we met on the way up to the Kalinga Hotel restaurant we said hello and both recognized that we each spoke English. He was very happy to find someone he could speak to. We went up to the roof top restaurant (it’s non-veg) and shared a dinner together of tikka chicken and beer while we watched the rats crawl up and down the pipes. We talked about everything including his experience in India which he said made him cry for the first time in his life. He had travelled all over the world working on various projects but India, his ancestral homeland was unlike any other he had seen. The poverty and suffering touched him in a new way. As well he had run into a succession of bad luck, such as being ripped off and what we called Delhi Belly, but in Barmer I guess we can call it Barmer Belly.

Accommodation

Yesterday I was taken to what was going to be my new accommodation. I was told it was only a couple of kilo meters away, walking distance to the office. Well, just as Indian time is not related to Western time, so it is with distance. About seven kilo meters out of Barmer we turned into an empty sand coloured compound. A row one story cement rooms lay to our right and another directly in front of us. We went to look at one the “apartments”. It had a small entry room with a bathroom attached on one side and a kitchen on the other. It was being painted and the painters spared no concern about getting paint on everything that didn’t need paint. So while the walls were a pleasant sand coloured yellow, the floors, kitchen counter, and bathroom walls and floors were speckled with numerous drippings. I was told that they were going to put in a western toilet, a fridge, a bed and a wardrobe. But all these things would leave very little space to move. Also, because of the distance from town and markets, they said I could use the “company” motor cycle or take the bus which runs every hour. I didn’t say anything at this point as I let the whole idea settle in. Also because I think they were being very sincere in wanting to get me a comfortable accommodation. So I let it go for then.

When we got back to the office I was told that there was another accommodation right next door and I went to look at that with a few of the gentlemen around. It was a school for the blind and we walked up to an open terrace which I was told I could sleep on. Then we walked up to the roof top where it was indicated that I could stay there too. Just an open roof top, no shelter, water, electricity, anything. I wasn’t sure what was going on.

That night I slept on a mattress in the office. Some of the guys brought in water cooling machine that fans a cooling mist of water into the air. It worked fine until it ran out of water in the middle of the night and then only supplied hot air. I found a bucket in the WC and filled it. A bucket was not the right thing to use as I spilled a lot of water onto the rug in the process. But I was not concerned with this as I knew that it would be dry in a few hours, due to the dry heat.

Today I will discuss finding another accommodation as well as getting VSO India to kick in some rupees so that we can find a more accommodating place in Barmer. Then I will make train reservations to go back to Delhi to get a root canal. Oh, I didn’t mention that did I?

"Room service? Send up a larger room." Groucho

First 1.5 hours in Barmer

2009-04-15T11:23:00.003+05:30

First 1.5 hours in Barmer, Rajasthan

Now I could say that I was picked up and put in a hotel because my accommodation wasn’t ready, after which I went for an hour walk then went back to my hotel room and ordered some food and then rested. But that doesn’t nearly tell the story.

The train pulled into Barmer Station and gentleman opposite me, who hadn’t said a word for the whole trip, helped me with my bags as I set off down the narrow corridor of the train, often getting my overstuffed pack stuck. Within 30 seconds upon hitting the station platform a young tall man approached and asked if I was Mark. Let me jump ahead for a moment, I think I’m the only white person in Barmer. I’m virtually a one man parade, so it was not too hard for him to identify me, but more on that later. The man introduced himself as Anil and in English as good as my Hindi told me to wait. He then went off to fetch Lata Kachhawaha, an elderly lady with a very pleasant smile who welcomed me to Barmer. She explained that this was a holiday and my accommodation (which she said was a house, but house home apartment all mean the same thing so I won’t know until I know) wouldn’t be ready for two days so I would stay in a hotel. Then the beggars came and even Lataji (her first name is Lata but you add ji to show respect, so for instance Katie becomes Katie-ji) had trouble keeping them away. Then I was ushered into a big jeep-like kind of vehicle, of which there’s lots of here, and driven to the K.K. Hotel on what I can only describe as main street. The room they assigned me was small and similar to the one I had in Delhi, except it had a TV. There was no shower head and the toilet was western style but the seat was lying beside the porcelain. The room was hot and later when I picked up my water bottle the water inside was not warm, it too was hot. I was not able to sleep that night as I felt as if I was in an oven.

First impressions of Barmer: It’s India inside of India. It’s a whole new place with some similar aspects but many more differences than what I had just experienced in Delhi. Ok, let me start with the way the women dress: to colours are so vibrant and mixed you almost feel like you’re staring into the sun. I learnt that very bright colours are worn by married women and the darker colours by unmarried woman. The married women also wear while arm bangles. The teekha (red dot between the eyebrows) are for decorative purposes only but a red colour at the top of the forehead at the hair line indicates a married woman as well. And the sun by the way was intense. The heat difference was immediately felt, but it was also a pleasant dry heat and the pollution was noticeably missing. However, I feel intensely hot without my hat on.

I headed up the street, a bustling avenue with lots of small open faced stores. I thought I’d see if I could find an internet store but no such luck. I was already used to be stared at so I was not uncomfortable walking around. At times someone (always a man except in one instance) would try to tak to me: where am I from? what am I doing here? what’s my name? In any case that’s about as much as I can reply to right now. Many people from their stores nodded and I would say Namaste and put my hands together in greeting. I had walked off the main drag and down some industrial type street. You can’t even imagine these so there’s some pics on the links to follow. I was signalled into to talk all along the way. The signal they use looks more like go away with the palm up and the fingers waving downward. I went into one place and a young man about 18 spoke to me with his little English and we did the formalities. He invited in to meet others in the shop, or whatever, I’m not quite sure what the place was. There was a Rajasthani man there in white turban. He was introduced to me as a Rajasthani so I assume he is from a local tribe. The next question that was put to me was what my caste was. I told them I have no caste but that didn’t seem to go over well. One person showed me the signing of the cross and I understood he was asking if I was a Christian and I had to disappoint him. The Rajasthani man allowed me to take his picture and then gave me his turban to try on. Pictures on the web: Mark’s first turban.

A young girl, I’d say around 12 said hello and asked my name. But it became evident that that was the only English she spoke. So she ran ahead and gathered up about 8 of here friends who all yelled out to me: Hello, what is your name? Parents in the background smiled. Many others looked my way and said hello. I started to feel very welcome here, everyone seemed so friendly.

Back at the hotel I asked the front clerk if he could get me some food, some rice and dhal which he did get some sent up with all sorts of spices and onions about ten minutes later. After lunch I brought the tray back down along with some clothes that I needed ironing for tonight I will be picked up to meet my employer and have our first interview. Wish me luck.

The simplest questions are the most profound.

Where were you born? Where is your home? Where are you going? What you are doing?

Think about these once in a while, and watch your answers change. (R. Bach)

Farewell and Moving On

2009-04-15T11:23:00.001+05:30

THE ANU SONG EXPERIENCE.

One day in Hindi class Joe and I decided to write a class song with Hindi words. So that evening we got together and in an amazing no time flat we put some guitar and dulcimer chords and words together, English of course. The song reflected some of the crazy sentences we were making in class and also alluded to my condition when I went back to class after being frozen from some dental work. We liked the tune from the start and started practicing. Soon some of our other class mates came in and we all started singing and refining the arrangement including adding some Hindi lines thanks to Michael. We practiced long and then once more in the morning in the class room before our teacher Anu came in. And when she did we were ready for her. Here are words minus the Hindi:

A Class of Your Own Ó2009

J. Spence, M. Takefman, M. Rosenkrantz

Anu was our teacher in the pickled Hindi class

It was there that she taught us to speak

She taught us the words and to conjugate the verbs

And we were fluent by the end of the week

Now I know my future and I know my past

My present and intransitives for sure

And though we turn up late

Our vocab is great

But pronunciation is still a little poor

(refrain)

Anu I know you are in a class of your own

Please bear with me for a while

My mouth is on sedation

Since my mind went on vacation

And my tasty wife is tasting pretty vile

We talk about the camels and how the trains walk slow

We talked about the Indian daily life

And we also talked a lot about how Kate likes to shop

But most of all about Joe’s tasty wife.

THE TRAIN STATION EXPERIENCE.

A private taxi arrived to pick me up to take me to the Old Delhi train station. I was told he would speak some English, and he did know at least two words. With my few words in Hindi we had some sparkling conversations.

The station was packed. No it was sardined. People on the floor with their luggage and everything else as far as the eye could see. The sounds of yelling and that general hum of people echoed through the thick hot air. It was a dark place where no one has a right of way so you make your own and you struggle upstream, constantly. My driver indicated that I follow him and he got me to the right platform before he left me to re park his car. He said he’d be back in five minutes. The train was not in the station yet so I found a comfy spot on some large burlap crates and waited. I was soon approached by a group of young Koreans looking for direction. They spoke no Hindi and their English was minimal so there I was posing as the Old Delhi Train Station Information Center spokesman. It turned out they were on the same train as me and so we started to talk. The guy I spoke to was a 22 year old man. At one point he asked me which Hindu Gods did I like, a strange question I thought. It turned out that he identifies himself with the God Ganesh, which believe it or not, he looks like. Then came the traditional taking of pictures. Cameras were handed around and it took some of them they took some of me with them and so on.

Finally the train pulled in and the insane mad rush to get on board began. My driver had come back and helped me with my bags and to find my coach number and seat position: window seat, lower berth, just great.

CAMELS

I saw my first camel from the train. Just a quick glimpse of one pulling a cart. After that they started showing up everywhere. In fields, on roads. The land we travel across is bleak yet there is ample signs that there is some sort of farming going one. Fields are tilled but barren, perhaps waiting for the monsoons and winter rains to come.

Across from me on the train I met Ravi Pruthi, an engineer going out somewhere in Rajasthan to commission a boiler. He is 27, single, living with his parents and I sense takes some delight in the fact that he is not married, even though he admits his parents pester him about this daily. He tells me, as someone coming from Delhi, that the Rajasthanians are much nicer than those in Delhi. I tell him I have found all Indians to be very friendly. But he insists that in Rajasthan they are more honest. I guess I will have to live in the culture for a while to see his point.

Live never to be ashamed if anything you do or say is published around the world – even if what is published is not true. (R. Bach)

Link to Last Week In Delhi Pictures

2009-04-09T20:31:00.001+05:30

Last Week In Delhi
http://picasaweb.google.ca/lh/sredir?uname=takefman&target=ALBUM&id=5322705101240392817&authkey=Gv1sRgCN3voZeupZKBDg&authkey=Gv1sRgCN3voZeupZKBDg&feat=email

“The whole idea of compassion is based on a keen awareness of the interdependence of all these living beings, which are part of one another and all involved in one another.” - Thomas Merton

One More Thing April 4

2009-04-04T22:56:00.000+05:30

Yesterday, the ISI receptionist Michael offered me the use of his motorcycle. At first I was a bit hesitant, should I really take his bike out? And what about the traffic and crazy driving? Well I have been studying the driving patterns and strategies of the auto-rickshaw drivers and this is what I’ve concluded. Driving in Delhi is a lot like playing Tetris, that video game where your control odd shaped pieces to fall down into slots. The only difference is that the whole screen and everything else is moving at the same time. Really simple actually. And they pass on the inside, just like we do in the West, so I took Michael’s key and helmet and went for a ride. The first thing I had to contend with is that his type of motorcycle does not use the gear shifter in the normal fashion. Instead of one gear up above neutral and the rest down, his bike had all the gears down. Fortunately for me the traffic was light and I soon got the hang of the bike and could then pay attention to the other Tetris pieces around me. I just went around a very large city block, staying on the left side of course. The next time Michael is on duty I will borrow his bike again will do a longer ride (and will most likely get lost).

Also yesterday, a group from Orissa moved into the room next door. I keep my door open and they saw and heard me playing my dulcimer and stood at the opening to listen, so I invited them in for a mini concert. One of them fortunately spoke English and told me they were a troop of musicians and theatre people who were going to put on a play tomorrow. I asked one of them if he wanted to play my dulcimer and he declined indicating that he played the flute. Ah ha, an opening, so I pulled out my three recorders and two new wooden flutes I received for my birthday and gave him one. He tried for a bit but couldn’t get the recorder fingering. That was ok because he opened a large black cylinder and poured out about twenty wooden flutes, the side blowing kind. I couldn’t play his either. So we each played each other a tune on our own instruments and tried to jam but our styles and tunings didn’t help us. So we departed with a smile and a Namaste.

Today the room next door was loud with music. I knocked and was let in to about 8 people, a harmonium, flutes, drums and singers, including a very young boy who was receiving instruction around a song he was singing. I listened for a while then left but came back later to be shown how to play one of the drums called a Nissan. And while I was there they took every opportunity to take pictures of me on the drums with the drum owner. I was invited to go see their performance tonight at the Muslim center, which I intend to do.

Today, like every other day, we wake up empty and frightened.

Don't open the door to the study and begin reading.

Take down a musical instrument.

Let the beauty we love be what we do.

There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.

- Rumi

Medical Issues April 4

2009-04-04T11:05:00.001+05:30

This past week I’ve had exposure to a little bit of the medical community and it’s practices here in Delhi. My tooth filling fell out and I was told of a dentist I could go see, Dr. Teena Bedi. For a fifteen minute auto-rickshaw drive to her office I first paid 60 rupees, or about $1.50 CDN. (as I discovered today when I actually had the meter turned on, a rare event, I over paid by about 50 cents.)

Dr. Bedi’s office was neat, clean, with beige and brown colour scheme. It is not the kind of squeaky clean, well lit office you’d find in North America but she had the familiar modern dentistry equipment. But Dr. Bedi is a very pleasant woman who explained everything she was doing. The filling was a minor issue as she couldn’t help but notice my most recent extraction (that happened just before I left BC). The gap in my teeth is hindering my chewing ability and my cheek tissue is often moving into the empty space and being chewed upon. So we agreed that I have a bridge put in at a cost of 13,500 rupees or about $340 CDN. So the work began. She took an impression of my teeth and adjusted a filling. On the next visit she filed down the two adjacent teeth that would hold the bridge and put on temporary caps. Today I went in for a fitting of the bridge but she was not satisfied with the fit and took another impression and I will go back Monday for another fitting before the final installation.

My next incursion was due to one of the volunteers, Patrick, who had just came back from a trip in Nepal and brought with him a very bad gastro-intestinal bacteria that sent him to the hospital. Patrick is from Amsterdam and has been working in Ranchi for almost a year. So knowing he was alone here I took off an afternoon class and went to visit him at the hospital. Getting to the hospital was fun too as I took a auto-rickshaw to the closest metro (subway) station to get there. I had been on the metro before with Michael so I knew the routine. It’s a modern, clean and air conditioned system that is easy, even for a Westerner to use. You pay by distance so you buy a token to the station you’re going to. You slide the token over a sensor on the way in and it opens the gate. On the way out you slide the token over the sensor and then put it in the slot to open the gate. Hence if you went further than you were supposed to the gate won’t let you out. The hospital from the outside doesn’t resemble a hospital you might recognize, it looked more like a small apartment house with few windows. Inside this small building was the usual lines of people in narrow corridors. The reception told me where Patrick was and I climbed the stairs to his room. The hallways were painted an eerie light blue colour. I knocked and went in to Patrick’s small room, sort of large walk-in closet size with one bed. There was a TV which Patrick was glad to have, having not watched any for the past 7 months. During my visit two nurses came in to put a new IV line into him and took his temperature and blood pressure. Later a young boy came in to ask me if I needed anything like a coffee or drink. Patrick, now having had a good dose of antibiotics was on the mend and was feeling ok when I left him.

Yesterday evening we all went to John’s, a Dutch vol is working here in Delhi, for a party. John can afford to pay for his own very nice large modern apartment and he treated us all to a fine spread of food and hospitality.

It’s the weekend and I will take it easy, having had some queasy stomach issues from eating too much oily deep fried food.

My advice to you is to get married. If you find a good wife, you'll be happy; if not, you'll become a philosopher. - Socrates

Links to India Pictures

2009-03-28T18:44:00.001+05:30

Arriving in Delhi http://picasaweb.google.co.in/lh/sredir?uname=takefman&target=ALBUM&id=5313252333150672289&authkey=Gv1sRgCNuq7eK0jrKGywE&authkey=Gv1sRgCNuq7eK0jrKGywE&feat=email

First week in Delhi

http://picasaweb.google.co.in/lh/sredir?uname=takefman&target=ALBUM&id=5315897774766486625&authkey=Gv1sRgCM7W6Z-Jz6vS4wE&authkey=Gv1sRgCM7W6Z-Jz6vS4wE&feat=email

Second week in Delhi http://picasaweb.google.ca/lh/sredir?uname=takefman&target=ALBUM&id=5318218931667008721&authkey=Gv1sRgCM-o6_TU-bfuQg&authkey=Gv1sRgCM-o6_TU-bfuQg&feat=email

Friday March 27

2009-03-28T17:52:00.000+05:30

TGI Shookravaar. (Thank God It’s Friday)

It was evening and I was up in my room with Joe when Michael came up telling us we had to come down quickly with our instruments, that he had been invited into one of the (slum) homes in the lane. With guitar and dulcimer in hand we strummed down four flights and out onto the street and then a two minute walk into a one room shelter. We had to crouch down to enter the small door and inside, a single bright light bulb illuminated dirty cloths hanging everywhere they could hang. Beds were stacked over each other, plus three bicycles which took up valuable space, rested near a small red fridge. Not much more personal possessions in this cave like dwelling were evident. Everything was dusty looking and cleanliness was not something that was being honoured there.

Mike sat on the floor with three young Indian boys. I can’t tell you their ages but somewhere between 12 to 16 and one young girl of about 10. Joe and I started up a song and we played it through for applause. Then they all wanted to strum the instruments, to which we were most obliging. One young boy asked me (non verbally) if he could put my dulcimer on is lap, which I let, and gave him my pick and let him experiment with the sounds while I soaked in the setting.

A young father walked in with a three month old baby in his arms. I stood up and stretched out my arms to hold the baby and he gently handed the child to me. It felt like I was holding air, the babe was so light. But she looked quietly, but intensely at the strange looking face with glasses and a beard and white skin smiling at her, trying to make sense of this apparition. Mike also asked to hold the child and it was passed to him. What a delight.

After letting the kids play for a while we left with this little spice of India in our hearts.

Music melts all the separate parts of our bodies together.
--Anais Nin

Tuesday March 24th

2009-03-25T16:45:00.001+05:30

A typical day:

Mediation at 6am. Tai Chi around 7:00. Then breakfast on the roof of the ISI conference center. An omelette and black coffee around 7:30am. Language classes start at 9am, but before that I am reviewing the previous day’s lessons. Anuji our teacher, who says she can’t say no, is going to take us all shopping tomorrow to the Dilli Haat government market. Of course it will also be a language lesson.

A snack around 10:30am of a Limca (lime soft drink) or just water then back to playing with Hindi words and sentences. Although I don’t think I’ve learnt that much Hindi in one week, some things are beginning to make sense. Maybe there’s hope yet.

Today I went with Mike and Mary to the VSO head office in a Delhi suburb. They had some paperwork to do and I just tagged along to see the office. It is a small office, in a nice neighbourhood, with small rooms with desks and computers stuffed nicely in each place. I continued to tag along with them to the Indian Foreign Registry Office where they had to “sign in” as foreigners. It was a chaotic scene of people, colours and noise and I left them there as it was going to take a long time for the bureaucracy to take effect. So the process of negotiating with an auto-rickshaw began and ended and I sat back for the ride home.

Towards evening, Noel (from the Philippines) and I went to the beer store and bought a few cans which we took up to the roof top (at our residence) with some nuts and Joe and his guitar for our own little party. We each took turns on the guitar and played to each other while the hawks and other crow like birds landed nearby to listen. Really there were at least six birds perched close by to us watching our every move. Two of them deposited a small load on Joe. Maybe they wanted the nuts. I need a bird book because I haven’t seen these kinds of birds before.

Mike climbed up to our roof top location to ask us to come back down to the street where he was heavily engaged with a few dozen of the local street kids. He bought pens and paper and had them drawing while sitting on the street (where cars and motor bikes where weaving between them). Crazy you say, but it is a shared space for all the various activities to happen such as cricket, basketball, music and more. Joe went down with his guitar and I soon followed with my dulcimer. All the kids wanted to do was to take our picks and strum the instruments. They were all quite impatient to have their turns over and over again. After about ten minutes, both instruments were way out of tune.

Darkness was coming up and Mike had lost most of his pens. The kids gave him their drawings and left. I suggested we find some coloured chalk and let the kids draw on the roadway.

7:10pm and no one has had supper. But we’re all quite satisfied. Nevertheless, the routine of eating sets in and we walk to the local market (a misnomer) and buy some art supplies for the kids along the way before we have a quick meal at Gulabs. One of the merchants starts up a conversation with us and finds out who we are and what we’re about. He tells me and Joe (as we are both going to Rajasthan) that we will be very hot there. Mike takes our leftovers (as always) from our meal and gives them to some people on the street. A word with the local parking wallah, who, as it turns out, could have used our leftovers and then it up to shower and then to sleep.

Keep away the wisdom which does not cry,

The philosophy which does not laugh,

and the greatness which does not bow before children.

- Kahlil Gilbran

March 22

2009-03-22T11:46:00.001+05:30

A week of language classes with our teacher Anuji.

“mera naam Mark hai” (My name is Mark.)

Not bad for the first week!

Anu is a wonderful person. I think she’s the happiest person I’ve ever met.

The weather is getting hotter and I’m drinking at least 3 litres of water a day. Breakfast is always an omelette, butter toast and black coffee out on the roof top of the International Social Institution (ISI). Which reminds me, I last wrote I didn’t know what the ISI was about, but it is, as I have discovered, a center for social activism here. There is the conference and classroom building (for our classes and lectures) and a residence building (where I live). But many different activist groups use this facility such as for advocacy for the Dalit’s (untouchables) and tribal people, gender and human rights, work with HIV/AIDs, malnutrition, and a whole lot more.

Outside our residence is a mini slum along the laneway. The local children often come up to us and help us with our Hindi. Mike Rosencrantz (an American vol and basketball fanatic) bought a basketball and has been playing with the kids. Joe and I have brought our instruments down from our room and have played for the kids (and all the other adults that come around). It’s hard to play because all the little kids want to pluck the strings and turn the tuning pegs. But it’s fun.

We’ve all been figuring out where to shop and find things and where the best markets are. Of course, we always pay too much for the auto-rickshaws when we go out. The drivers drive like it’s the Indy 500. We generally kiss the ground after every ride. I’m slowly figuring out the driving culture insanity.

Joe, Cristina and I went to see the VSO doctor (Dr. Huzuria) to get our Rabies shots (which was highly recommended) on Friday (and we’ll have to go another two times for the rest). Using a auto-rickshaw to get around is always an interesting venture. The drivers know their local runs, but when you go more than 15 minutes away from their home base they inevitably get lost. To their credit they frequently ask for directions, but they will also increase the fare if they’ve made too much of a blunder, as happened when we went to see Dr. Huzuria or our shots.

In any case I am never sure where I am while traveling around Delhi, the roads and traffic circles run in every and all directions and it’s hard to keep track of direction.

Yesterday (Saturday) our group went on a tour of Delhi. From temples to forts and minarets and museums, we had a long hot day, but it was good to be inspired by the incredible sculpture, artwork and lives of the people long gone. And of course all along the way we meet and talk with so many wonderful Indians. It was nice being a tourist, but we did manage to show our passports with our work visas which allowed us to pay the Indian rate instead of the tourist rate for admissions.

Today, as you know, being my birthday, I’m going to catch up on my internet time and then do my Hindi homework. This evening I’m taking the group out to Gulab’s for dinner. It’s a vegetarian, second floor little restaurant with good food and low prices. For example, seven of us ate there last week and it cost 300 rupees, which is roughly $10 CDN. Although, when I settle in and am only earning Rupees, I’m going to have to stop thinking in Canadian dollars.

Happy Birthday to Me.

Mark

"We can't solve our problems by using the same kind of thinking we used when we created them." Albert Einstein

March 15 2009

2009-03-17T13:04:00.001+05:30

Sunday, a day off

I got up early to meet up with vols Kate, Judith and Mary to go to an internet café that Kate liked. While sipping coffee and eating a really bad toasted bagel, I opened SKYPE to find that my friend Peta in Alberta was online and had sent me a message so I briefly called and spoke with her. Then I noticed that Kerry in Kenya was also online so we exchanged some typed words. Christina was online too and she called me and we spoke for a while. I turned on my web cam and angled it to show and introduce her to the ladies at the breakfast table.

I called Katie’s cell phone but she didn’t answer so I left a message from her Daddy in Delhi. Our timing hasn’t worked out for speaking to each other just yet and I miss her.

I took a auto rickshaw back to the residence to find that everyone (all the vols) had left and I was on my own. So I went out walking when I met up with Titou. He is a Sikh man and auto rickshaw driver. His English was very good and he offered to take me on a tour of Delhi. We talked about where we could go and the price and I got in and off we went to the first stop: Ghandi’s crematorium. Titou parked on the main road and let me go in alone. I was really lucky because as I got to the simple monument there were no crowds, just a couple of people. So I stayed for about five minutes and then left to pick up my shoes and socks. While there I felt a quiet mood come over me as I looked at the flame and flowers and thought about Ghandi’s life and his effect on all of us. At the entrance several bus loads of tourists were just coming down the walk. I have missed them by minutes. I was thankful for the quiet time with the great man.

Next we went to see a Jain temple in Old Delhi. Old Delhi is different from New Delhi as it is the original city that did not have any planning. Tiny twisty roads and an intensity of people, bicycle rickshaws and every other kind of vehicle were moving all together down narrow roads.

Titou parked and he took me into the white temple. Like the streets, the temple was also well attended. Titou paid our entrance fee and checked our shoes and socks in. Along the way there were various places people stopped to touch the ground, a threshold or a sacred object to receive blessings and offer respect. I took as many blessings as I could find. I felt very peaceful there. Titou explained that at this temple, all religions were welcome, and judging by the variety of different types of local dress (costume) I’d say that there was a wide array of backgrounds.

Inside the temple there was music playing, harmonium, tablas and voice. Many people were sitting on the floor while others were paying homage to the various Gurus pictured. I sat with Titou on the floor for about ten minutes just listening, people watching and feeling the calmness of the space. Pictures online soon.

March 16: Language lessons started. I wish I could say more, there’s so much to learn, especially just listening to the sounds of the words. Anu, our teacher repeats in my ear a sound she wants me to make, I respond, she says no, we continue for several tries and I just don’t get it. Maybe I will have to buy one of those hand held translators after all.

Mark

March 13, 2009

2009-03-14T09:13:00.000+05:30

In India

Good News, my luggage arrived when I did.

Going through Indian immigration was easy.

Two wonderful smiling faces, Manmadha and Raj, with a VSO sign were there to greet me at 1:30am in the morning.

But I was not the first or last to arrive. We waited for another 5 vols to arrive about an hour later. Amongst them was Joseph Spence from Lancaster, England, a young lad of 20 who would be my room mate and the closest vol (volunteer) to me in Rajasthan. He’ll be in Jaipur.

We hit it off right from the start, he came in carrying his guitar and noticed my dulcimer on the cart. We were jamming within a few hours.

We stuffed ourselves into a taxi with all our gear and meandered through corridors of darkness Delhi until we arrived at the India Social Institute. I’m not quite sure what this place is but we have a small room about 8 feet by 12 feet, with two single beds, two wooden closets and a private WC with a shower (with hot water!). And yes, the toilet is the chair, not the squat, kind. (pictures to see coming soon)

When we arrived at this rooming house, we were all given a first aid kit, mosquito netting, DEET, a stack of papers and maps to read through and money for the month. (I’m only here for the month after all.)

In the stack of papers was a lot of detailed information about what we will be doing for the next month, such as schedules for language classes, health and country courses, and a whole lot more. Plus all logistics that we need to do such as registering with our embassies, and the police and the Foreign Registration Office. And things like opening a bank account, the costs of rickshaws, where to eat, shop, and places to see.

Contact and emergency contact numbers were supplied and who are the people at the India VSO office and how to contact them.

Actually there was a lot more information in the Volunteer Manual but I wanted to give you a quick briefing of the important stuff.

Joe and I couldn’t sleep so we unpacked and organized our gear and tried to read the materials provided. And we played our instruments softly together too. About 5am we decided we should try to get some rest before breakfast at 7:45am. We tried but we only sometimes dozed off.

We were the only ones there (from the VSO contingency) for our (supplied) breakfast which consisted boiled eggs, toast, cereal, milk, coffee/tea (with the milk already in it) and bananas. I had to ask for some coffee without milk of course.

Then we decided to walk to a nearby landmark called the India Gate. The temperatures were already rising and we were sweating before long. Crossing the streets was insane and possibly suicidal. But after about an hour we managed to get to the park where the monument was.

Some Indian guys were sitting on the grass in the shade and called us over to talk. They were just interested in who we were and where we came from and had lots of questions of us. As we left them two other guys asked us to pose for a photograph for them. Somehow we had become the tourist attraction.

Then we decided we would stop a rickshaw driver to ask him if he knew where we could find some place to eat and take us there. It wasn’t easy to get one in the heavy traffic and when one finally stopped his English wasn’t that good and he claimed, like all the other rickshaw drivers, that his meter didn’t work and told us it would be 50 rupees to go to Connaught Place. We started to haggle when another rickshaw cab came along. The driver in the second cab spoke English well and told us it would cost 40 rupees so we got in with him. If you’ve ever ridden a go-cart in downtown traffic (anywhere), that’s what it’s like to ride in one of these three wheeled motorised carts.

After being let off a young man came up to us asking if we needed a cab. But he stayed with us anyway and told us where a good restaurant was and where we could get a free map of Delhi from the government tourist office. He also told me I look like an Indian. That was the second time I heard that today. Maybe my Tilley hat, camera and backpack gave me away.

After our first Dosai in Delhi we walked around before we haggled with another driver for a ride back to the residence.

The vol girls from the airport of that morning were just waking up when we got back. They were going out and Joe and I decided to take a nap. It lasted only five hours.

Later wee met up with the girls and went out to supper at an …. wait for it … Indian restaurant. I found an internet place on the way back and wrote a few quick “I’m here safe and sound” emails.

Joe and I gave a mini concert (based on the first jam we had in the early morning which turned out to be quite marvellous, Joe writes his own songs and is an accomplished player and singer)

So I’m off to do some more reading. Tomorrow all the vols get together to meet each other and some facilitators and discuss the upcoming events.

What a first full day. And I know I haven’t told you everything!

Mark

Accepted!

2009-02-04T01:28:00.001+05:30

February 3, 2009

So it’s now official, I’ve been accepted by the NGO in Barmer, Rajasthan to work with them.

I’m going to India!

My departure date from North America will be sometime in March, but due to various logistics that have to occur first, I won’t know when until closer to the date.

The 5 day SKWID (Skills for Working In Development) training finished today and so I am done with all CUSO-VSO courses over here. The next training will be in country for about one to three months. A lot of that training is for language.

Today I’m in Ottawa and will take off to Cooperstown to pick up my Y-flyer tomorrow, to be delivered to “behind a barn” at my friends Dean and Annalore’s in Campbellville, Ontario.

Mark

“Out beyond ideas of wrong doing and right doing, there is a field. I will meet you there.” - Rumi

2009-01-28T00:49:00.000+05:30

At the Preparing for Change training at CUSO-VSO in Ottawa. This was an informative, insightful and delightful course where I met more members of my family (the whole group) who inspire me infinately. Thanks to all.

Travel-Log: Jan 13 -21st

2009-01-21T20:14:00.001+05:30

Flat. This southern route through the Rockies and the other mountain ranges is flat. Sure there are some distant little peaks here and there, but the valleys between are broad and …. flat. This is not like the northern routes in which you are meandering the valleys through the high snow capped peaks.

Nonetheless, there is still some beautiful scenery to enjoy. I’ll soon post my pictures, mostly taken at high speeds through the window of my car, up for viewing.

I had an enjoyable evening with Paul in Albuquerque. I tried to help him set up his new computer onto the internet, but there was more there than I could accomplish in the short time I was there. I discovered to my chagrin that I underestimated the mileage to my next destination of Chicago and my uncle Bram. So I needed to cut short my visit and head out across the flat New Mexico, Texas and Oklahoma landscapes.

I made good time and arrived in Evanston (a suburb just north of Chicago) early Friday afternoon.

Bram was waiting for me and we began our chat. An enchanting chat that seemed to go on without stop for the two and half days I was there. Topics ranged from international trade (the business he was in) to politics, statistics and demographics of India, family histories and more than I can now remember. He took me to the Shed Aquarium on Saturday which like SCUBA diving without the gear or getting wet. Great fun.

We went out for dinner with his good friend Donna and a old friend of Donna’s Andrea from Duluth. The next day we met up with Jim, Karen, Alison and Jake Falduto. Alison is Bram’s daughter, my first cousin. I had seen them almost a year ago when I first traveled west to BC. It was real nice to see how both Alison and Jake had grown and matured. Great kids.

Monday, Martin Luther King Jr. Day found me driving on the cold flat roads of Illinois and Michigan to Toronto. Crossing the border into Canada took less time than stopping at a traffic light.

I arrived at Heidi’s around 7:30pm that night where I still am until tomorrow when I head off to Ottawa. However, watching the US Presidential inauguration yesterday was awe inspiring. How often can you say that? Obama’s speech was inspirational.

Regarding being assigned to a project, I have been seriously considering a position in Barmer, Rajasthan, India that would begin in late March. I have been in communication with volunteers who have served in India and some who are still there. And as I mentioned I have been researching the various elements of India, such as culture, economy and politics. I will let you all know if this is the direction I finally take, but my feelings right now is that it will be.

Peace,

Mark

“Out beyond ideas of wrong doing and right doing, there is a field. I will meet you there.” - Rumi

Travel-Log: Jan 9 -12th

2009-01-13T12:25:00.001+05:30

I left Sechelt earlier in the morning than I planned. It seems I couldn’t sleep that night and so caught the first ferry to the Island via Powell River. I went over to Neil and Monika’s and left my kayak there and played Monika a few tunes on my dulcimer.

After meeting up and taking Ann to lunch I had the opportunity to visit with Mom and Owen (and Jim) at the same time to say a final good-bye.

Then I skirted down the island to Victoria and Katie. Victoria wasn’t home but Katie was. After spending a lovely warm day on Saturday with Katie I left her sleepy-head early Sunday morning to catch the ferry to the mainland and then drive south.

Sunday was a rainy foggy day and I made good time to Miriam and Thomas’s in Oregon. The only event I can report is that the border guards at the US border pulled me over because I didn’t have my Green Card with me, so they made me “abandon” it. That is I no longer have a green card. It was about to expire anyway and I wasn’t planning on renewing it, so this was no great loss to me.

It was really nice to see Miriam and Thomas again. I think the last time I saw them was in Toronto many years ago for a brief visit, and before that in 1979 in England where we met and lived just outside of Farnham, Surrey. Other than just catching up on life and events and having a wonderful supper that Miriam made, their cat left me a present on my bed while I slept. Very thoughtful. (or not)

So today (Monday, January 12, 2009) I drove for 12.75 hours (half in fog) from Eugene, Oregon to Bakersfield, California where I will recover from today only to do it again tomorrow when I head off to see Paul Labarre in Albuquerque, New Mexico. I’ll spend a day with Paul. But this drive should be more scenic as I now head East across the Rockies.

Mark

The only reason for time is so that everything doesn't happen at once. --Albert Einstein

Up Up and Away!

2009-01-05T10:41:00.001+05:30

January 4, 2009

My last week in Sechelt and I have a hundred or so little errands to do. One of them is to hopefully get a root canal done in the next four days.

While I travel through the USA I will have my cell phone with me for emergencies. If you call, you can leave a message and I will use SKYPE each night were possible to retrieve my voice mail. Otherwise the best way to communicate with me is via email.

I estimate I will be back in Canada after I visit with Uncle Bram on January 19^th.

Peace be with you.

Mark

In The Begining

2008-12-17T12:51:00.000+05:30

Dear Family and Friends, Some good news, after an intense interview and assessment process I have been invited to join CUSO-VSO to work overseas as a (paid) volunteer to “contribute to community and human development, to broaden worldviews, and to deepen cultural connections within the global community.” (See http://www.cuso-vso.org/en/ for information on the organization) It will be a two year term, but the questions of where and when are soon to be answered. I will keep you informed. I still have a few hoops to jump through and some additional training in Ottawa at the end of January. I will maintain my email and SKYPE addresses but am changing my contact address to: 1530 Kye Bay Road, Comox, B.C. V9M 3T7, Canada Mark “Traveler, there are no roads, roads are made by traveling.” Spanish Proverb "There is no way to peace. Peace is the way." A.J. Muste