In which Alison rides an elephant

So, where did we leave off? First, this post might not be as long as the others for few reasons. First, I'm in Darjeeling, and it's freakin cold (anyone remember Chefchaun? Yeah, like that). Second, the internet is closing in an hour. Third, I'm kinda sick, so I may need to evacuate to a bathroom. But, more on that later.

First, Calcutta. I awoke bright and early (way too early, nothing was open to eat) and walked the km down to the Queen Victoria memorial, which was huge, white and impressive, surrounded by lovely gardens. The memrial is pretty much in the financial district of town, so there was no food to be had while I was walking over, though I did have some tea in a clay pot. I didn't go inside to the galleries, but walked allong the paths and walkaways, watching people job, meditate, take pictures, and generally enjoy the lovely morning. The memorial is at one end of the Maidan, the Central Park of Calcutta. Just outside the garden gates, sheep, carriage horses and cows all munched their breakfast on the grass (must save in mowing and fertilizer!). I watched the morning fog burn off the grass, and took too many pictures of a large white building. There was, near the back, a statue to Edward, which I thought was kind of funny. I'm fond of the guy (He ate at Beckman PLace, after all) but his statue was so sad compared to his mother's city block.

I was pretty hungry by this point, but I wanted to see St. Paul's Church, an old British curch with lots of those memorial tablets that I enjoyed so much. The Church was also the center of Mother Theresa's diocese, and has come cashe from that. It was quiet, as I got there just as it openned, but right away you could feel the difference between hre and Chenni. Instead of "Died at Ooty" (a hill station and presumably retirement type of place) at a ripe old age, the tablets here were full of "Mudered at Lucknow with his wife and infant son", "Fell while recalling his mutinous troops to order and duty", "Perished after much deprivation at Delhi, mourned by her father, mother and brother". Pretty dark stuff to read every Sunday, especially if you were"Mr. Ram Das, converted from Hindism and a member of this Church for 25 years".

After that, I decided that I really, really needed breakfast. First, I tried to get a bagel at New Market, a covered building that houses just about everything you could ever want to buy, including a Jewish bakery. Sadly, even at 10am they were just openning. I said I'd come back and headed back to Sudder Street, and found a stall on the side of the raod selling egg rolls (that's omelette wrapped in chipatti, pretty much). It was good, really filling, and I went to the Indian Museum, the "wonder House" from Kim, which was the only museum that I told myself I would visit in India (I'm not really I museum person when travelling...I mean, they're all pretty much the same and usually expensive for the entertainment). This one is in a big white columbed building, with a lovely courtyard with fountains and flowers. The exhibits are arranged on two floors around, starting wtih long rooms full of duty fossils in old wood and glass cases, continuing through the anthropology of India (dating from about 1920, but really interesting to see the diversity in this one country), and then to animals, plants, sculptures and art. The animals were desidedly moth eaten, but they made me laught because for every full stuffed body in a case, there were at least 50 heads mounted on the tall walls up to the celing. It looked like Gaston's trophy room. I could just imagine them saying "Yeah, I used to hang in some British guy's smoking room. You got a problem with that?".

The scultures were very interesting, shoing the different styles from different regions of the country (but, again, you have to think "Wow, this would all be so amazing if half of it wasn't in London!"). Halfway through my wanderings, I was stopped by a British man who had "college professor" written all over him. He said "what do you think of this ancient art and it's influece in modern peices". I was totally taken aback and managed a "Oh, I don't know much about art" to which he responded, "well, then what brought you here today?" I honestly answered "Kipling" and he walked away.

I wasn't hungry for lunch, so I stopped into the bakery for a creame filled elcair to make up for their lack of bagals. It was wonderufl, and I munched it as I made my way though the city, just walking without any dierection to see what was out there. I was struck by how busy the street were, and by all of the people heading to many different lives, men in business suits, women carrying laundry on their heads, beggers everywhere. The beggers in Calcutta were particullarly visable, though not as aggressive as I feared. Mostly they stopped you in the tourist area, either just saying "Sister, sister" or asking you "No money, just milk for baby". It s a scam that the Salvation Army guy in Chenni told us about, you buymilk from a vendor for 80 rps (about 4 times too much) then you give it to her, you leave, she sells it back to him for 60. S, he's got 20, she's got 60 and you spent 80. I guess there's nothing wrong with it per se, except if you wouldn't hand her 60 rps than you shouldn't be bothered with this. It's funny, because I find it hard to worry about the things that I worry about when giving money in America (it's not really like they can be working, I don't think that she's going to drink it away) but I still don't like to do it. Mainly, becuase most begger only go after tourists (especially children). And I don't like feeling...picked on, I guess? Anyway

That night I took the metro to the train station, and got on the 9:00 train to NJP. I was, again, seated with a school group, but these were the worst, most obnoxious children I've ever seen. I'm being generous saying children, since they were 20 and 21, but they were loud, disruptive and didn't stop talking until 4am and were up and loud at 6. I had to yell at the, the guy sleeping under me yelled at them, the lady down the car yelled at them, but nothing worked. When I confronted their teacher in the morning he gave me some BS about "Young, and high spirited" and "If we were in your counrty" "If I was in my country, I would have smacked them", I wanted to say. Needless to say, I didn't sleep at all and wasn't in the best spirits in the morning. It was then that the cross-dressers arrived. On every train I've been on, the morning starts with cross-dressing eunichs who stand by your bunk and clap really loudly. This is kind of the same logic as the men who call out from cars, I feel. The "oh, well I wasn't going to give you money but now that you have woken me up at 6am I will!", clearly something is lost in translation. This woman, however, walked over to our booth, looked at me, and streched out her hand. "Is that your natural color?" she said, fingering my hair. I nodded. "It's so lovlely". She walked away. I chased after her and gave her 10 rps. Because, when the nicest words spoken to you in 24 hours were from a eunich begger, you have to reward that. She smiled and gave me a blessing, and I felt a little better.

My good mood continuted when I decided not to take the bus to the wildlife park ( I just couldn't face that much hassle feeling as fragile as I was. Anyone who has seen me without sleep can imagine the wreck taht I was) and instead forked over the 20 bucks for a private car. 3 hours later, after a nap and a luxourious ride through small towns, tea gardens, and wheat fields, we pulled up at the "Tourist Lodge". It looked like it had seen better days, but I was happy to find that my room at a double bed (they didn't have singles) and a TV. Unfortunatly, the TV and power didn't come on till 4pm, so I napped some more until one, when I went to the dining hall for our included lunch (chicken and veg curry with rice and papad, spicery than I've had it before, but good). I went to the resption to ask what I should do next, and tehy said that there was a Jeep tour of the park leaving at 3, and I could join if there was a free seat.

Until 3 I wandered around the neighberhood (not much to see, a little convience store where I bought unless batteries (the didn't even fit inmy camera!)) and a loepard rescue where the leopards were in cages, which was just as sad and unpsetting as you might imagine. I went down to the loading area at 3, to find...a school group (thankfully, not the same one or there would have been blood). There was no seat for me, and I wasn't too upset (given recent events) but one of the guides saw me walking away wondering what to do until I could see what movies were on, and called me over. "Would you bve interseted in a bike tour? We could go though the villiage, see tea garden, an tea factory". How much? "No, nothing...I need the excerize!". He was about my hight and couldn't have wieghted more than 120 pounds. I laughed.

So, for town hours, we biked around throughthe sunset villiage, I got a private tour of the tea garden and factory, we saw women on their way home from work with basket strung accross their foreheads to carry them. The people here look CHinese, while those from Tamil Nadu looked almost African sometimes. The girls were friendly and smiled, and the boys where very shy (I dont htink they knew the English to say "Hello, what's your name!").

We got back around 5pm, had dinner at 7, and arranged an elephant ride of 5:30 the next morning. I watched the middle of "midnight Run", Pretty good De Niro comedy, that cutout midway though, then went to sleep.

At 5am, a knock on my door woke me for tea. Luckily, I had slept in my clothes so I was decent. I had my tea, brushed my teeth, and at 6:00 we drove into the park to meet our elephant. The guide insisted we saw a wild elephant near the gate, but I think it was just an off-duty elephant. There were two German people from the hotel (a mother and son, very nice) and a Sikh from the Indian Army who came with us. We were all in the right mindframe, just enjoying the morning and being lifted high into the air on a giant animal, quiet but companionable. Then, about 20 miuntes in, we saw a rustle in the trees. moveing the elephant forward, we came face to face with a one horned rhino, looking like a left over dinosaur. He wasn't scared of us, basically posed for pictures, until he lo\umbered off into the forest. We saw five rhinos all together, and a sabar deer.

After breakfast back at the hotel, I felt really terrible, but had to get on the bus to get to Darjeeling. It was aweful. I finally was crying because felt so bad, and an old man asked me what was the matter. "I have to use the toilet" I said, guietly, but he didn't hear me so eventually I had to yell it to the whole bus. After that, he was my knight errant, making them stop, showing me wehre the bateroom was in this dingy restaruant, walking me back to the bus, showing me whre the bathroom was at our destination, helping me into a shared Jeep to Darjeeling, telling another man (who had also been on the bus) that he better watch out for me. It was so kind, especially since the man who was in charge of me was able to tell the driver to pull over about half way though the ride, so I could squate by the side of the raod. It wasn't as bad as waking up sick in Trivandrum, but it was close.

The ride up to Darkeeling was lovely, but that will have ot wait for next time. I'll be here until the 2nd, and then at Varanassi the 3rd, so expect to hear from me one of those times.



I was pretty hungry after that, but wanted to visit

In which Alison learns for the 149th time that it is a small world, and for the 4896th time that if you try to overplan something and it falls apart,

it will probably end up better in the end: OR "There are no beggers in America, right?"


First of all, sorry I’ve been bad about finding e-mail. When I describe my days, maybe you’ll see why I haven’t been able to sit down and type before now. Still I know you guys worry and I’ll try to at least keep you posted on when I expect to be interneting next.

But now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for: what HAS Alison been up to? This week at the hospital was really quiet, since Dr. Gigi was in London visiting her husband. Still, there were a few interesting things; including a guy who turned up in the ER claiming he had "fallen off his bike", but he had one long cut across his forehead. Dr. Roy was pretty sure that he had gotten the wrong end of a sword in some family dispute. Ouch!

My last day at the hospital was incredibly sad. Kyla and I had an early breakfast together before she caught a train to Kodkia. The guys at the restaurant had been after me for days about bringing them gifts for my last day (I responded that they should give ME a gift, or at least tea at lunch, but they were having nonne of that nonsense). I took a picture and planned to have it printed out for them. Still, it was hard to leave them, and the lovely free food that they provided! I spent the day saying goodbye to the nurses, all of who took pictures with me and then asked for copies, and doctors. I had to go to Dr. Gigi’s house to say goodbye to her, since she had returned from England but hadn’t gone back to work. I was afraid of disturbing her, but she was glad to see me, gave me a rose embroidered napkin set from England, and said that she would never forget my laughter. I was very much crying by the time I left her house. Dr. Banu insisted that I wait for her to return for evening outpatient (around 6:00…my train was a 7:00 so I had wanted to leave right them) and then presented me with a lovely blue stone necklace. I was really touched by them, they are incredible doctors and I’m so lucky to have gotten to work with them.

I spent much of Friday with Jackie, helping to show her the ropes. She arrived Thursday and is 40, a nursing assistant, married with kids and from England (though born in Kenya). She’s a really interesting person, who had done tons of travelling by herself in various ways. She’s only there for two weeks, but I’m sure she’s going to have a great time!

Friday night, after tearful goodbyes to Dr. Banu, John, and Jackie, I put myself on the train to Chenni. This is a very popular route, and even though I’d booked a week early, I still didn’t have a berth, only a seat. When I found my seat, a man was sitting in it. I had my ticked way in my backpack and didn’t want to look, but I said that this was my seat, I thought. "Are you damn sure?" he said, which took me aback so much that he decided it wasn’t, and told me to perch on the bench with a family. I admit I kind of lost it for a minute and wondered exactly how far it was to the nearest international airport, but pulled it together when the little girls came over to me and started babbling in Tamil. I w/as hoping that one would open up later, but it was a no-go. So, I spent the night curled up on a sort of half-bunk (by putting the seat back down and ignoring the fact that you are probably making the person across from you uncomfortable, you can do it). Still, I got more sleep that way than the night we spent with the snorer going to Kochin.

The next morning around 9am we arrived in Chenni, and I trudged with my stuff to the Salvation Army Guest House, where I called Lisette and told her where I was. She and her cousin were in Mallalpuram, about 60 km south of the city, but would be back later that afternoon. I had nothing to do (and a much lighter pack) so I set off to walk to the beach, planning to stop at the West Bengal Tourist Office on the way. They run the Jaldapara park, which I had been hoping to visit but you needed to show up in person to book a room at the lodge. I managed with the Rough Guide map (Yeah, Rough Guide!) to find it with only a few misteps. It was Saturday, so the office was closed, but the caretaker was there and invited me in to sit for a moment. He asked about my travels and when I told him about the hospital he nearly fell off the chair. "I am from there!" he said, "Dr. Gigi delivered my children!". He insisted that I tell him all about it, and had me stay for tea in his office. He called over to the office in Calcutta, and they apparently told him that there would be rooms available, then he gave me three copies of the same brochure and pointed me out toward the beach. It is a very small world.

Walking down to the beach was nice, even if it was getting warm by then. The marina itself is one of the largest in the world, and the whole thing was dotted with stalls selling everything from sea-shell trinkets to key-chains- to ice-cream to knock off hats. I bought one of those, since my own hat was sadly lost in Kollum, but managed to avoid everything else until I spotted the "you pick it, we fry it" fish place. I hadn’t had lunch yet, and those fish looked wonderful. So I sat down on the sand under the shade of their tent and had a wonderful masala fried fish. Then, feeling myself burning, I walked back to the sidewalk and checked my guidebook for what to do next. I saw that, about 10 km south of the beach, there was a cave that St. Thomas was supposed to have hidden in when he was being persecuted by some Raja. That sounded pretty good, so I called over a ricksaw and begun negotiations for the journey. They started at 200, but I didn’t want to go that badly, so after three walk aways we ended up with a 50 rps tour of the city (including some of it’s finest shopping establishments). We started out with a building that had been and old ice house, but then was used by Vivekananda when he returned to Chenni after visiting America. My religious education sort of skipped him, so I wasn’t that interested in anything expect the building itself (which had a gorgeous Raj era round porch overlooking the ocean) and the pictures of the Swami at the Chicago Worlds Fair. The guide, who was following me (the only guest) though the museum, smiled when I started jumping up and down and saying "That’s my native! That’s my native!". Clearly, I have been here to long as I am 1) speaking Indian English and 2) homesick.

They did have one other interesting exhibit, a series of 50 paintings showing the progression of Indian thought. They were quite beautiful some of them (especially those representing the different religions of India) but after 50 it was had to remember what ANY of them looked like. The major theme was "India awesome! Everyone else…took our awesome!"

After that trip, we went to our first store. Kashmiris who have a kind of funny ingratiating way of talking run them all. Everything in these stores is super expensive, and I wasn’t going to buy anything, but the drive got money every time I looked (50 rps is the going rate for an American). At the first store I met a girl who had also been taken there by her driver. Her name was Marie, and she was a teacher at the international school at Kodikai. I told her that my friend was there now, and she was really pleased, hoped you liked it. She was really sweet, but was leaving that night so we said goodbye as we left the store.

Next, we went to the cave which was down a windy road from the main street, peopled by children playing cricket at beggars waiting for people to get out of Church. The cave itself was in the basement of an old Church, built in 1550 by the Spanish to Our Lady of Good Health. It was lovely and peaceful, like the chapel in "An Affair to Remember" and to the left of the altar were the stairs down to the lighted cave. It was small, not someplace you’d like to hide, but had the same feeling as the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, like a place sort of out of time. I really enjoyed it, and was just leaving the chapel when the caretaker called me over and took me into another chapel where there was a miraculous spring that Thomas had drunk from. He gave me a sip, and I drank it though I couldn’t help but wonder about the state of the water.

We stopped at a few more shops, but I was pretty much done touring and called Lisette from the drivers cell phone. She and her cousin (Pauline) were at the hotel, so I joined them there and they told me about their lovely weekend (they went to a hotel with a pool and had been chauffeured by a private car!). The three of us headed out to "The Fort" which was listed as one of the main sights in all of the guidebooks. Perhaps the fact that none of the rickshaw drivers we asked knew where it was should have clued us in that this might not be the attraction we were looking for, but we went anyway. It was, mostly, just a working fort. It reminded me more of the Pentagon than anything, sort of interesting, but most people were there to do a job. We did see St. Mary’s Church, the oldest English church in India. It was great, because there were memorial plaques to old British soliders and their wives on all the walls. "Here lies Major Reginald Reyolds, who served his distinguished career at Madras Fort, and died here on June 23rd, 1768. This plaque was placed with loving memories by the men with whom he served" ect. I never really thought how many British people died here. I more thought about all those who went home (or didn’t) after the end of colonization. I wonder if their families ever came here to visit their graves.

After our visit to the fort, we walked back to the hotel, and the other girls rested while I asked the manager how to take a bus to Mallalpuram (having no private car). He was very helpful, and ended up telling me and a Swedish boy who was also staying there, his life story. He was found as a 4 day old baby by the Salvation Army, brought up by missionaries, and has been working at the guest house for 17 years. He was so kind, he got Paulie (who wasn’t even technically staying there) a ricksaw to take her to the airport for later, and gave us a recommendation for a restaurant down the street. It was lovely, with red checkered table clothes, Indian and Western food, and a staff who was tickled pink by Lisette and my attempts at Tamil.

After that I was pretty pooped, so I just went to bed while Lisette chatted with Pauline in the front room. The next morning, I got up bright and early and headed out to the bus stand to go to Mallalpuram. It a little town near Channi which is famous for its monuments and stoneworkers. I got there around 9:30 in the morning, and after a quick dosa for breakfast headed out to see the sights. At the first one, I was a little harassed by a postcard dealer, and another traveler came over to rescue me. His name was Gerald, from Britain, and as we got to talking I learned that he had lived in DC (Clerandon, actually) working with litigation support and had been to Marrakech. In his early life (he was about 55ish) he had been in the British Navy, and so had cheap tattoos on his arms that fascinated all of the Indians we passed. We toured the monuments talking about cricket and baseball, traveling and college and had a really nice time. Unfortunately, we spit up for about 20 minutes while he went into a monument and I went to shop (and had to bargain longer than I hoped) and I lost him. So, Jack, if you ever in your litigation support career happen to meet a man named Gerald who was working in Washington about 4 years ago, please tell him that I am ok.

I did spend some time looking for him, drawing the attention of several of the guide and salesmen in the area. One of them was incredibly kind, even giving me a lift around town looking for him on his scooter! Truth be told, I was almost as upset to loose my ride back (he had had a car hired by his company) as Gerald, but when I told the guide where I was staying in Chenni he said that he lived very close to there and would give me a lift, no problem. In the meantime, every salesman and ricksaw driver had an APB on Gerald, and would call him if he was spotted. He told me to go eat. I went off and had lunch at a lovely tourist café, on the second floor, painted bright pink, with lots of fun foods like pasta salad and crepes. They also had spice tea with bits of cinnamon, cloves, and cardamom floating in it. It was lovely, and I made lunch last until almost 4, when I met the guide again and got a lift back into town. On the way to Chenni, we stopped at his sister’s house for coffee (and so he could change). Her children were adorable, trying on my shoes, playing with my hair, and the little boy cried when I left. We got back tot eh hotel around 6:30, and I was just in time to meet Lisette for dinner at 7:00. Her train was at 8, we ate a quick snack and then I saw her off. Ever since, people have been asking me if I have friends in India, and I say "Yes, but not with me" and they look and I feel sad. Lisette, Kyla, John, Jackie I can’t thank you enough for how much fun you made even 3 hour hysterectomies, and hope you all keep in touch!

At 9 the next morning, my train left for Calcutta. This was the first of two long train trips that I am taking, and I was really excited about it. The way I see it, I don’t have that much time to see India, and I see the train rides and transportation, accomedation, and tours of all the places I don’t get to stop, but can see. In addition, they are social clubs! This time, I was seated with a group of teenagers coming back from Christian Youth Camp in Chenni. The girls (Uma, 18 and Christie 16) were full of questions about America: what kind of house did I live in, did I have a boyfriend, what did my parents do, did I hve brothers and sisters…I usually simplify answers to questions like this, it just makes everything easier (yes, I’m a Christian; my sister is a teacher; my roommates are both other girl students, ect). This got me in trouble this time, though, since I had to answer questions about how often I went to church, how long services were, and how we celebrated Christmas (for this one at least I didn’t fib…I told them all about the children’s service at church and they sounded enthused!). They were really nice kids, sharing all of their food with me, listening to my I-Pod (I realized after they made a face I probably shouldn’t have started them on random play. "Sweeney Todd" is not for everyone), and making the boys be quiet when I wanted to sleep. They had some funny ideas about America, how we had no poor people and everyone lived in huge houses (Ah, TV). One of the boys who takled ot me was really sweet (prehaps Freddie sweet...it's hard to tell here). He loves books, and we talked about Roald Dahl and Harry Potter and how he wants to write 5 books in his life and open a bookshop in every counrty. He asked me about my goals, and I told him some (become an advanced nurse, travel a lot, have a lovely house when I'm older with a huge garden and kitchen so I can learn to cook). It was nice.

The train went through Andrah Predesh and Orrissa, and for the most part the differences were subtle, but there. Wheat fields instead of rice paddies, block bulls instead of white cows, women in short saries carrying loads of hay on their heads, houses made from tile rather than banana leaves, pools with blue, rather than white, lilies. The woman sitting across from me was Bengali, and spoke almost no English, but gave me tea every time I turned around and wanted my mobile number. At night, the fires burning in the fields lit up the sky, and everything smelled like a bonfire. I had a whole bunk this time, and slept very well. Indian trains get very quiet at around 10:30pm, and by 11 there isn’t usually a sound to be heard except the motion of the wheels. In both second class compartments I’ve been in, I haven’t had one snorer. This is made up for by the 5:30 wake up time, though. It’s pretty easy to doze during the day, and that’s what I did until about 10, when I chatted more with the girls and then got ready for when the train arrived around 12.

After saying goodbye, I took the cross-town bus so that I could leave my luggage at Saldeah station, which is where my next train leaves. Moving through the traffic, I could see that this city is totally different in style from Tamil Nadu. Like all of India, it looks as though structures that were meant to last 10 years have been left up for 50, but these are townhouses with ornate wooden screened balconies, peeking out from leafy trees. The street life is amazing, everything is sold from blankets on the sidewalk. The chai is served not in glasses but in ceramic pots. There is a whole street of men who sit at typewriters typing letters for other people. I dropped off my luggage at the station cloak room, and walked about 3 miles through the town to the main tourist area, just letting myself go bug-eyed (oh, and also stopping at the tourist office to book a double room for myself at Jaldapara lodge. It’s elephant ride of bust! Thank you for your birthday present, Aunt Karen. I finally found somewhere that takes credit cards!).

About halfway though my walk, I ran into a protest of people saying they were against "Imperialism, Globalization, Zionism, and War". The were holding lots of signs saying "Stop US and UK Imperialism in Other Countries!" and, yes, there was a lovely picture of President Bush (in his flight suit, no less) Tony Blair and Rumsfeld looking very evil. ON the one hand, I could see their point. It’s not like I voted for him, or support most of what he does. On the other, something inside of me was screaming "You guys are supposed to LIKE us! If you don’t like us, nobody does!", which may, in fact, be the case. I felt a little awkward standing my the side of the road, but I wasn’t about to let myself get off the route I knew so I waited the 30 minutes while about 250 people marched by. It was pretty clear that some people were passionate about their cause, and others were street people who didn’t seem to have a clue why they were walking this way.
After finding a hotel, I wandered about some more (finally finding this place, which has 10 rps Internet. I promise I’ll try to be less frugal when I comes to Internet, since I don’t want you to worry, but they tried to charge me 40rps in Mallalapuram! That’s just not fair!). I stopped for dinner at a "rolls" stand, which is a Calcutta specialty. They prepare a kabab, then a vegetable mush mixture, and roll the whole thing in a thick chipatti. It was delicious!

Tomorrow, my train for NJP (and from there Jaldapara and Darjeeling) leaves about 10:00pm. I probably won’t be able to write again until I get to Darjeeling (not counting on there being Internet in the forest preserve) on the 30th. I miss you all very much (more every time someone says "Do you miss your Family, Boyfriend, Friends) but am having adventures (as you see). Next time I write, I will have fullfilled one of my Travel Goals: Elephant Ride!

In which Alison lays out her itnerary

Happy Thanksgiving everyone! I hope you eat lots of turkey for me! (Sadly, I think I'm going to be veg for this turkey-day, but at least I will have pie, so the most important thing is covered!)

Here is my plan for after I leave here on Friday. It's ambitious, but I think I can handle it:

23rd: 7:00pm Leave here on th overnight train to Chenni
24th: 7:00 am Arrive in Chenni. Explore the town, stay with Lisette Sat. night
25th: Chenni (possible day-trip to Mamallapuram)
26th: 8:45 am Leave Chenni on train to Kalkutta.
27th: 1:00 Pm Arrive Kalkutta. Explore town.
28th: Eat lots of sweets (what Kalkutta is famous for), Depart at 10:05 pm for Darjeeling
29th: 11:00 am Arrive Jaldapara Wildlife Park. Exploer park. See elephants (hopefully). Stay at park lodge.
30th: 5:15 am Elephant-back trek safari. Leave park around 7:00 am. Arrive Darjeeling around 1:00pm. See Happy Valley Tea plantation.
1st: 9 am Take "Toy Train" to Ghoom. Walk back to Darjeeling, seeing Ghoom monestaries. 4:30 pm High tea
2nd: Shopping. Leave Darjeeling at 4:50 pm train to Varanassi.
3rd: 8:30 Arrive Varanassi. Stay at hotel Ganpathi (web site:www.ganpatiguesthouse.com)*. Explore ghats.
4th: Varanassi
5th: Varanassi (possible day-trip Saranth)
6th: 9:30 am Leave Varanassi for Armitsar
7th 8:30 am Arrive Amristar. See/stay in Golden Temple.*
8th 7:00 am Bus to Dharamsala. Arrive around 1pm.
9th Dharamsala
10th: Dharamsala. Bus at 7pm for Delhi.
11th: 7am: Arrive Delhi, take train at 9:20 for Agra. Arrive Agra 1:30 pm. Rest.
12th: Taj.
13th: Arga, shopping. Leave Agra for Delhi at 5:55pm
14th: Old Delhi.
15th: New Delhi.
16th Shopping.
17th: Flight from New Delhi at 7:30am. Arrive Chicago 5:30 pm.

* This is the only reservation I have made so far. If I make more, I'll let you know, but most places in my price range don't take them and it's nice to see what's on offer, rather than just the ones in the guide book.
*This is flexible, since it's all buses. If I love Amritsar, I'll stay another day. If I hate Dharamsala, I'll leave early for Delhi. I'll just play it by ear.

I miss you all, and will be thinking of you at 2am (about dinner time, home wise!)

In which Alison drinks the cool-aid: OR (sing-song voice) "You are already storing up treasures with your volunteer work!"

First: THANK YOU JAKE AND THE FAYETTE COURT GANG! I had just gotten back to my room after an internet session this morning (and btw, everyone leave "Good Luck Jessica" comments, she's taking GREs) when Kyla knocked on my door and said I had "a lot of mail" I smiled, knowing I get more mail than god, but was really floored when she walked in with a decorated package, stuffed with candy, cards, A BOOK, and other goodies! Everyone came in to see, and they all declaired that you are the best friends/boy-friend ever. Also in my mail today were Aunt Karen's and Freddie's thanksgiving cards. They made it just under the wire!

Lisette is going to Chenni today to meet with her cousin who is coming for a week so yesterday was our last night all together. The four of us, so we celebrated with apple pie and milk sweets at the local bakery. We called it our "Last-dinner, American-Thanksgiving, Sinterklaas-arrival, Guy-Fawlkes-Day extravaganza!" and it was awesome. There was even cricket on the big screen TV in the bakery, so it was almost like watching football. Kyla and I will go back on Thursday to eat more pie and sweets.

This weekend was great. Kyla, Lisette and I headed to the backwaters of Kerala. Dr. Gigi and Dr. Banu were gone on Friday, so Kyla and I took the early morning train to Trivandrum, arriving about noon, and went to a restaruent where I had my first mango lassi in India (sweet lassi you can get anywehre, but not mango). It was delishous, and they served it with the mango on the bottom and the lassi on the top, so it looked like an ice cream sunday. We had decided that Friday night we wanted to visit the ashram of the "hugging mama" about an hour and a half from Kollum (where we were meeting Lisette satruday). It's huge and pretty famous, and featured in Holy Cow, the travelogue of India that I have a love/hate relationship with. If you'd like to see the website, it's http://www.amma.org/. When I brought up visiting to Kyla, in that kind of "I know this sounds feel crazy, but i figure since we're going to be so close..." she was all over it. So the two of us left Trivandrum around 2:30, hit Kollum about 4 and reached the ashram about 6 pm.

The rickshaw that took us to the ashram dropped us off in front of a huge bridge across a backwater canal. On the other side, rising out of the palm forest, were four huge twelve story pink skyscrapers.


As we walked into the ashram, the sun was setting behind them. We walked intoa central courtyard between the buildings, and saw a temple, with a horseman and chariot decorating the front. We stopped at the "Enquiry" desk, and were told that we had to visit the "INternational Visitor Desk" on the second floor balcony of the temple. At the front of the alter were two pictures of Amma, who has a round, happy face, and women in white saris sitting and chanting devotions to her. In between was a shrine to Kali, who looked fearsome and scary, as she usually does. It was an interesting contrast, the "mother" of love and the goddess of distruction.

The international office was closed, and wouldnt open until after dinner, so we wandered around a bit, trying to get our bearings. It was hard, eeryone seemed to be absolutly sure of what they were supposed to be doing, and it didn't include stopping to talk to the lost girls carrying backbacks. Finally, we stopped at the Indian accomedatino office for a temporary room assignment. They gave us a card and sent us up into one of the high-rises, to the fourth floor. The room was white tiles, and bare except for sheets, blankets and two mattresses stacked up against the wall. Wondering what we had gotten outselves into, we plopped on the floor and read until the dinner bell sounded, calling us to teh communal meal.

We wandered into a huge room with a stage in it behind the temple, where three lines of food had been set up. We couldn't find the plates for a minutes, until a man pionted them out to us, then we hopped in line behind a foreign girl, and I started coverstaion by asking if she knew whether we had to take our shoes off or not. She said no, and we got to chatting about how she was just visiting for a few days and was from Germany. We moved toward th front of the line and got our food, rice with vegitable curry (spiced differently than in Tamil Nadu). We took a table in the "International" section of the cafeteria, which featured chairs and tables instead of mats on the floor, and a canteer with western food that you could pay for (Kyla noted the french toast on the menu for the morning). On the way, we passed many young men and women from Amma's universities, who use the ashram as dorm and cafeteria. Conversations in India with travelers reminde me of conversations during orientation at school. They follow the pattern of "Where aer you from, when did you get here, how long are you staying, wehre have you been?" and then run out of steam. Just when we were reaching that point, a small gray haired man with very intense eyes and white clothes came over to our table, and asked if we were new and if anyone had shown us around. I jumped on teh chance to get some direction, and told him that we had missed the 5pm tour and were completely at a loss. He sat down with us, the German girl left, and told us a bit about the ashram and the daily schedule. Prayers started at 5pm with a chanting of the 99 names of Amma and the 1000 names of the divine mother, then chai at 6:30, meditation at 7, breakfast at the Western canteen started at 8:30, and some people do Seva (community service) and then lunch was at 12:30. We had to leave at 11 to meet Lisette, but agreed to do Seva tomorrow morning by weeding the garden with some other volunteers.

Amma wasn't at the ashram, which meant that it was quiet, with only about 1000 people instead of the 20,000 they have when she's there. The couple in charge of the garden were just on temporary duty, taking over for someone who was in Eurpoe with the Amma tour. They were from California, and had been musicians when the wife (they had "spiritual" names that I can't remember, but I'll call her Saraswathi cause I know it was close to that), a tiny lovely women about 29 with long red hair, went to see Amma and though she was kinda neat, but nothing more than that. Later, she said, when her life started to fall apart she started to think about her more and more, and finally felt like she really needed to move to the ashram and explore these feelings. Her husband, (we'll call Suresh) who looked like a cross between Jesus Christ and Charles Manson if you can imagine such a creature, was mostly along for the ride then, but is now totally into the ashram life, and doesn't have any plans to leave any time soon. He seemed much less "with it" than his wife, but nice in that hippy-dippy kind of way. We set a meeting time at 9am the next day, and they headed off to bed.

We went to the canteen for masala tea and ginger cookies, and sat down across from an older lady sitting with a group of others. I could tell that she was from New England from her accent (she was from Mass.) but she was thrilled to find that I had lived in Pittsfield since her neice was from there (and had moved to Chicago, which was even more of a coincidence). A lady sitting down the table from us was from MA too, and kept interjecting random comments like "Did you head teh Red Sox won the Wolrd Series" every few minutes. It was funny, because they were all older ladies and could have been at a book club or golf outing, except every once in a while they would talk about something the swami said, or how Amma was beyond what we think of in the West, and it would seem like I was talking to a completely different person.
Kyla and I went to get our official room pretty soon after that, and were given a key much higher up in the tower. We got off at the 11th floor to see the moon reflecting off the ocean less than a quarter miles from the ashram. I had no idea we were so close to the ocean. We openned our new room, which was much nicer with beds, set alarms and went to sleep.

I got up at 5:15 for early prayers (cause...when are you going to have the chance again?) and sat in the temple listening to the rhythmic chanting of the names of the goddesses without falling asleep (more than I can say for the devotees sitting next to me). I saw Saraswathi in front of me, in her white sari and holdinga book with the names of Amma in it. I wish I had ahd one, because the prayers were all in Sanskrit, but it was interesting to just let the words flow over me. Finally, about 6, the chanting stopped and the women all stood and sang while the light of the temple went out (dawn was just about breaking) and a women went into the space containing the Kali statue and did Puja, using flames, bells, and insense. As she finished, the women turned themselves around twice, and then started heading out of the temple.

I followed them to the chai break, in the same place as meals. I had to borrow a cup from the canteen, which meant I got a full huge mug of chai, which I wasn't complaining about. It was so hot it burned my mouth, but was sweet and delishous. I then headed out for a walk down to the beach before mediation. Since we were on a penisula, I figured that if I walked down teh beach, I would eventually find the chaneel that was on the other side of the ashram (with the bridge over it). I started walking through the villages, which look almost exactly like Gauguin's Tahiti. The villages are neselled between canals lined with palm trees, pinapples and hibiscous, the women wear long bight colored mumus and leave their hair long down their backs. The signs at the shram say not to walk down this way, but every person I met was kind and friendly and said "Good morning!" or "Nasmastiaa" the greeting of the ashram. Eventually, though I had to admit that the road wasn't really turning and I was lost. I turned down a solid looking road aht went to the left, figuring it would hit the cannal at some point, and it did. The water was still and quiet, and the morning sun was just gettnig high enough to cast light on it. It was lovely, and I started walking up beside it, hoping to get to the sharam that way. I ahdn't gone more than 1/8 of a mile when the path died, just stopped in someone's front yard. I had to turn aruond, and was resigning myself to retracing my steps, when a man who was birshing his teeeth (and continued to do so through our whole converstation) asked if i was looking for the ashram. I said I was, and he brought me to the edge of the canal and called across to a boatman. The man was using a pole ot move a small boat towards us, and my new friend said that for 5 rupees I could go across, then make a left and walk for 4 km until I reached the bridge. Pretty amazed that I had already walked about 2 miles, I was game to try. I got onboard with men going to work with scythes in their hands, a boy witha bike, and women carrying laundry. The trip was quick, but silent except fro the singing of teh boatman and the men teasing the boy sitting next to me (at least, I think that they were teasing him about me). I got off on the other side, and made it just in time to meet Kyla for breakfast at 8:30.

We went to the Western canteen, where she had oatmeal and I had peanut butter on toast (I have missed peanut butter! and this was homemade on the ashram, which was pretty special). Then we headed out for our Seva, joining a group of abuot 5 other volunteers (all day trippers, no permenant residents. There were signs up in the cafeteria saying that 'Even when Amma is not here, your Seva is needed!" so I htink they are having recruitment issues) Suresh and Saraswathi. They took us through back paths through the villiage to a Tulsi (Holy Basil) garden that the ashram runs. Tulsi is very important in Aryuveda (the ashram runs a clinic and a training center in Aryuveda) so these plants are used there, as well as to make garlands for the temple and necklesses for sale. We were given hoes, told to be careful of the plants, and got to it. While we were working, we could hear music from a local Hindu temple in the area drifitng over us. It was very peaceful, and nice to work outside on such a satifying task. Saraswathi answered questions about life at the ashram, and you could tell that she had been a singer because she had a lovely speaking voice, it was like listening to a really intersting NPR broadcast. Most of what she said was about how flexible life was there, if you wanted to medicate there was meditation, if you wanted to serve, there was Seva, if you want to pray, the temple was always open, if you wanted to deicate your life to Amma you could become a celebate devotee, or you remain married and try to fit her teachings into your daily life.

Anyone surprised I was totally digging it? Yeah, didn't think so. I'm a pushover for a commune. Maybe not so much the guru part (as I have never, as they say, "met Amma" that is a little hard to buy) but life there seemed very peaceful, everyone was kind, they eren't offended by our tourism of thier holy home but went out of their way to make us welcome, and appreciated our feble attempts to help. It was one of the nicest visits to a place I've ever had. Kyla and I had to leave around 10:30 before the weeding was done. We packed and on our way out I bought a little 18 rupee Tulsi neckless, feeling quite proud of the blisters I had developed.

We met Lisette at our hotel around 12:30, and made our way down to the tourism office. On our way though Kollum the day before, Kyla and I had made reservations on the 2pm "Villiage boat tour" where we would be guided around the nearby villiage on Monroe island, see the traditional crafts, and a spice garden. We stopped for "meals" at a local cafe, where we picked up an admierer who asked if we were "spinsters", which made us laugh. He then asked if he could come with us on the boat trip. "Oh, it's all booked","I'll buy a ticket", "Um, no", "Can I come to your hotel later?", 'NO!", "OK, bye".

Anyway, we went to the office and were put in a rickshaw for a 45 minute drive out to the island. Then we waited for 20 miuntes by the side of the canal, while our rickshaw driver smoked, looking in vain for a boat. Finally, our guide pulled out a cell phone, and sent us away down the bank where a group of at least 25 Indian high schoolers and their teacher were waiting. Uh oh.

Two boats appeared, and we were loaded like sardines into them. The teacher, who had frizzy hair and a sarcastic streak, endeared herself to me by telling the shrieking girls "If you get in a boat, there will be water. Deal with it", and trying to make the boys in tight Bollywood style jeans and oiled hair to sit down. Still, it was not a pleasent trip. We didnt' stop anywhere, the guide spoke in Hindi to the group (they were from Mumbi, on a zoology field trip) and we were in the back pretty much trying not to kill one of the students (for Kyla, it was the boy who wouldn't stop standing up, for me, a girl who wouldn't stop talking or sheiking). The only bright spot was the older woman chaperone sitting next to us, who asked us where we were from and then proptely followed up with "Are you Jews?". Kyla and Lisette said no, I said that my father was Jewish, and she was delighted. "I am a Jew!" she declaired, and then called to her daughter in the other boat (the sheiking girl I hated) and said "Jessica! This is an American and her father is a Jew!". Jessica looked less then impressed.

I had heard (again from Holy Cow) that there was a Jewish population in Mumbi, but I hadn't really expected to meet one. I asked her all about her congragation (women can get bat mitzvahed, but they sit upstairs from the men, the population is shrinking, marriage with other faiths is rare, her brother is a rabbi and studied in Israel (she almost fell out of the boat with delight when she heard that I'd been there), and her daughter went to JCC camp, just like me (Didn't ask if they sang "if you're happy and you know it, clap your hands").
After Judith and I had our talk, the guide came back to talk to us. He asked where we were from, and then said he was sorry for how things turned out. He said that "we were innocents" in this, and all the cool things he could do if we weren't with such a huge group. Now, I wasn't about to pay money for the "tour" that we were getting, so I asked him if we might come tomorrow, since this tour was so bad. Now, it took a few tries of translation before we got across that I meant "come again for free", but he called his company and said that we should talk to them when we got back, but if someone else was coming out we could join them.
After that, we enjoyed the rest of the ride much more, even seeing a Kingfisher bird and many "immature little blue herons". We got back to the tourist office around 6:30 and had the following coversation:

Me: "The tour"Him: "Yes"Me: "It was bad"Him: "Yes"Me: "We can come tomorrow again for free"Him: "Yes"

Well, then, that worked out. We went to a snack food diner place for dinner, and ordered egg sandwiches and three kind of huge ice cream to share (banana split, vanilla-waffer-cherry, and butterschotch with cookie). They were amazing, and then we went back to the hotel to scope out the channels. "Pearl Harbor' was our best bet, even though I said that I would be forced to mock Ben Affleck even if Kyla was totally into the love story. Somehow, I got really into it though. I remember Dena saying it was horrible, and the love story was pretty dumb, but the action was good and the clothes were amazing. I didn't even hate Kate Bekensale. This is what 3 months without movies does to me!

Anyway that lasted till midnight, when Kyla and I finally went to sleep. The next morning I woke up early (still on ashram time, I guess) and took a walk over to the beach. Kollum beach was very utilitarian, there were women washing clothes, kids playing a before-school cricket match, and men preparing their nets for the day's work. Still, I was a nice place to enjoy the morning, and I got back to the hotel around 7:45, in time to pack up and head out to the tourist office for round two of the Villiage Tour. We arrived and waited about ten minutes until our fourth member showed up. He was Rob, about 55, from England. He was a lock-keeper. Yes, he lived on a river and watched a lock, just like that creepy guy in "Our Mutual Friend". He also worked on a party barge and at a pub, and was a really fun guy. He made a great addition to our little crew, and we could already see that this time things were going to go much better.
We arrived at the same spot, and low and behold, the boat and guide were waiting for us.


Our Boat

It was like night and day, this ride was peaceful, fun and informative. We watched women weave rope from coconut fiber, men make boats and cover them with fish oil, we stopped on a tiny island and drank coconut milk striaght from the tree. Our last stop was at the spice garden, where Rob reopenned a cut that he had gotten by being hit by a rickshaw the day before. The guide took one look at him and stamped off into the woods, retirning with crushed up leaves that he swore were the best wound cure there was. Rob was great, took his cure and thanked the guide over and over, and said what a story it would make when he got home.


Rob, Lisette and Kyla: I'm standing on a plank over the water.

After our tour, we had to high-tail it back to Trivandrum to catch the 4:20 train. We made it, pleanty of time, and got home in time to eat dinner.

I know that I said I'd post an itinerary, but that will have to wait till tomorrow (My figers are rebeling). I'll post again before turkey day!

In which Alison reflects: Or "If I can save even one life, I feel like I've had a purpose"

My time at the hospital is rapidly coming to an end, and I have that horrible "Oh, my God it's the last time I'll do this or that!" feeling that I remember so well from high school, Morocco, college, and basically prepping to leave anywhere where you've been happy. Making it worse is the fact that I've just started to feel like I've gotten the hang of things, drawing Dr. Gigi out of her shell, asking more questions of Dr. Banu, knowing when to go look for a delivery and where to stand to get the best view in surgery without earning dirty looks from the nurses. Even the old midwife says good morning to me now, and at first she gave me death glances whenever I approached! I guess that's always the way it goes, and I am getting excited to start the next phase of my trip (and to come home!), but days like today make me realize how much I've been privileged to see.

Today, I was with Dr. Banu and it was exceptionally quiet. There are no appointments, patients just come as they will for what they will, and by some fluke only four families came in the three hours of outpatient care (OP). Dr. Banu ordered coffee for us from the canteen, and I asked her what lead her to pediatrics, knowing that she would say that she loves children (it's obvious from the way she lights up). She told me that she's the youngest of four children, and her oldest sister died of a childhood illness before she was born. She doesn't know what it was, her mother describes convulsions and high feaver, but she isn't a very educated woman and three was no doctor in her village then. Her mother still talks about her sister, how wonderful she was, what a good child and how she was "fair, with black hair down to here", and is still very depressed thinking about her. Dr. Banu is the only doctor in her family (I know her living sister is a nun, and the brother I don't know) and she wanted to spare other families the pain that her mother lived through. I've seen her passion, especially when talking to mothers about breast feeding. It can be a matter of life and death here, sometimes, since formula is made with water that might lead to diarrhea and dehydration. She was so proud of saying how she has never written a prescription for formula, even though it would bring more money into the hospital.

I felt wonderful that she would share this story with me, and it surprised me because I had grown used to thinking of the doctors as a very privileged group (which they are now, I suppose), but I forgot that they...came from somewhere? That's weird to say, but I can't really be more definite about the feeling. Anyway, it was a lovely afternoon and after we had lunch and I discovered new India food that I love (Paneer Buji, kind of like scrabbled cheese with onions, tomatoes, and peppers.) I have resolved to try a new food every day until I leave, so I will let you know on future experiments.

In most ways this has been pretty much just what I wanted, enough support to feel grounded, enough freedom to feel like I wasn't caged in. It also cemented the fact that nursing is the right area for me to be in. I'm so fascenated by everything that the nurses do, and I find myself enjoying most the times when I am most involved with them, even if just waiting for a baby or preparing injections. Nurses here don't even do half of what they do at home (doctors do much more patient education and direct contact), but it's still their work I am more drawn to. I havn't figured out what area I'm most intersted in, though. I've gotten to really enjoy surgry, though I know that's not where I'll end up. Still, it's amazing to be able to see all those things that are just labeled in textbooks up close and in person.

I'm rambling, arent I? In case you havn't figured it out yet, some of the blog is more for me than for you all. I'm trying to help myself remember the facts here, so I don't have to feel bad that I can't keep a journal to save my life. If anything is confusing or unclear, though, let me know in the comments.

Next time, I'll post my itinerary for my travels.

In which Diwali happens: Or "John much afraid!"

Michelle, your birthday was celebrated here in a big way!

The day started for us at 7am, when the girls went downstairs wrapped in loads of fabric, looking like we'd gotten tangled in the bedsheets, and screaming "help!" to the nurses. They quickly bundled us into one of the exam rooms, and spent an hour and a half turning us into decently dressed human beings. I've included pictures in this entry (I finally found an internet cafe that will let ME touch the CD drive) so...

From left to right: John, Dr. Roy, Natasha (his daughter), Nathan (her twin brother), Kyla and Lisette.



You can see how they came out. My sari recieved the highest praise, mostly because it was dark colored and it made me look fair. Kyla's was gold and light blue, which set off her tan (good for us, bad for India) and Lisette's was popular because she had baught it at "Pothy's", the huge posh store where anyone who is anyone buys their saris. John also got his lungi (or, as he put it, towel) at Pothy's. We had gone on a shopping trip the night before, which was less exciting to me than the fact that, right outside the store, was a street festival celebrating the marriage of Shive and...someone (a goddess, unclear who).

After we got dressed, we went with Dr. Roy (and Dr. Vani, his wife, and Dr. Gigi, his sister, and Dr. Antony, his brohter, and Dr. Banu, his wife) to their aunts house for a Diwali breakfast. It was so much fun, a mixture of the 4th of July and Thanksgiving with little kids running everywhere, tons of food (you had to eat the sweets first!), the men watching cricket in the TV room, and TONs and Tons of fireworks. They had sparkers, flower pots, crackers, and everything else that we weren't allowed to play with and didn't want to come in contact with while pinned into 9 yards of cotton. The family laughed at us, especially because John was just as nervous as we were. He lost many cool man points (though, he has noticibly more cool points than the rest us of to start with, so). They were otherwise so kind, though, treating us like favorite daughters, telling us how lovely we looked, letting us hold their kids. Dr. Vani's mother had a converstaion with us about how much we could learn from each other, Indians about individuality and Westerners about the importance of community and family. She seemed like a lovely lady, and I think nice things about her since she let her Hindu daughter marry a Christian in a love marriage. She obviously doated on her grandbabies, who were just about the cutest things I've ever seen. We had to wrestle Kyla to stop her from packing up Nathan and taking him back to Canada!

After breakfast, and crackers, the four of us got onto a bus to go to our second invitation, from Dr. Latha, one of Dr. Gigi's assistants. Kyla and I knew her as "the soft-spoken one", who speaks very good English, but always talks so quietly you can hardly hear her. She lives in Tuticorin, on the sea about an hour away. Taking the bus in a sari was quite a challange, but we made it and were picked up by her son and grandson, just 3 years old and totally adorible! They took us to Dr. Latha's house, where she fed us a huge meal (including meat) or different gravies and rice. After breakfast, we were ok. After lunch, we were stuffed! Then, after some chat with the family, we went to ANOTHER house where we watched more cricket (and I tried and failed to point out the superirity of baseball) and were fed again. This time apples, sweets (condensed milk candy which is delishious) and rice briyani (a mix of rice and veggies in curry). It was wonderful, but we were seriously about to burst out of our blouses. We went outside to set off more crackers. I got a great video of Kyla and Lisette running full speed down the street away from a Chinese firecracker, and then went to the beach!

It was really lovely, just sunset, and there were many familes out enjoying the holiday by playing in the water or just walking down the sand. I was too afraid for my sari to do more than dip my toes in, but Dr. Latha's kids had a good swim. Atfter swimming, we went to the first house the family owned, a narrow townhouse near the bus station, to, you guessed it, have dinner. They were making dosa's, thick rice pancakes, and they let Kyla and I help make them (it's much harder than it looks). I stepped outside for a moment to watch the crackers, and was blown away. The crackers had mostly gone, and in their place people were enjoying full-on, Comisky Park style fireworks. It was incredible, watching them be shot off roofs and then explode just over your head. Even more amazing was to think that this was happening on every street, in every city, in this entire country. Dr. Latha found me standing outside, and brought me, and the rest of us, up to the roof of the house, where we sat for an hour watching the fireworks and chatting. It was so nice, relaxed and welcoming from family members we had never met before that day (John and Lisette hadn't even met Dr. Latha before). As we were leaving, we tried to thank her for the wonderful time she had shown us. She stopped us, saying "No, you gave us the chance".

We took the late bus back, watching the fireworks explode over the city as we left, and took the sleepy walk back to the hospital. I was so happy, stuffed, and grateful to the people who had shown us such an amazing time. I get angry and frustrated by some things here, but never the friendliness and kindness of the people.

Speaking of grateful: Thank you Mom! You got me sunblock! Thank you Freddie! I got five cards from you in one day! Thank you Dad! You saved my bacon with Georgetown!

In which Alison is thourghly pampered: or "I will have my driver take you."

Sorry it's been so long since an update. We just got back from our weekend in Madurai, but really the weekend began on Thursday, when Dr. Banu (apparently appaled by the state of Kyla's skin), arranged her driver to pick us up and take us to her beauty parlor. We we're quite sure what to expect, and were a little frightened by being told that the beayutitions did not speak English so we would have to call to Chenni where the owner lived and have her translate our requests. Still, we were excited as we drove through one of the nicer neighberhoods and stopped in front of a lovely house. They opened the door and we were ushered into a lovely sitting room, and then given pedicaures with warm oil and our eyebrows were threaded. It was really neat to watch, but REALLY REALLY hurt! They laughed at me for being such a baby. Clearly, Mom, I havn't changed much.

We got back to the hospital and Kyla and I ran out to get a pumpkin from the local market. After totally confusing the man at the vegitable stall, by trying out whether they would stand up, insisting on a orange one, and generally looking at their "faces", we took it back to our rooms to carve. Lisette enjoyed her very first pumpkin carving! We made it very traditional (triangle eyes and nose, toothy mouth) and found that snacking on the raw pumpkin peices was very tasty! We still missed pumpkin pie, pumpkin soup, pumpkin lasagna and apple cider all the fall traets) but it was still nice to munch something orange. Then, we "reverse trick-or-treated" through the hostpial, giving out candy and explaining (with Kyla miming someone knocking at a door, someone openning the door, yelling trick or treat, and then getting candy to great confusion and amusement) what Halloween was. Apparently, in Holland, they also have a "give me candy" holiday, except that say "Candy or your life!" (to which I always say "I'm thinking it over!"). Many people asked if it was our birthday, since here you give out candy on your birhtday.

We even went into the labor ward, wehre the mother in her 4th hour of labor was happy to get a sweet and the nurses thought we were the greatest thing ever. We went to Dr. Gigi's house (right next door to teh hostpial) and her parents house (right next to that) and gave tem candy. Her father has been all over the world, and had a great time sowing us all of this "collection" from other places.

The next day, the pateints all asked after the pumpkin. I guess that's what we'll be remembered for!

Friday we went to Madurai, the major city in this area. It's about 4 hours away by bus, and we arrived and checked into teh hotel around 3ish. Then, after lunch, I headed straight off to see the Temple, which is the main feature of Madurai. It's dedicated to Mekenshi, a warrior goddess who was born to a King who prayed for a son, and got her instead. She was a feirce leader, led many battles, and defeated Shiva. Once they laid eyes on each other, they fell in love, and the two of them ruled her kingdom together until they went into the temple in Madurai. It's a great story, and the place is huge. There is a shrine to Mekenshi (which is always visted first...the only Goddess for whom this is so)and Shiva, and a big Ganesha and tons of other statues on the pillers and walls that are honored with candles and prayers. One in particular was a woman (covered in a silk skirt tied to teh pillar for modesty) which woman (only women) prayed to and rubbed with oil. I was wondering if it was a fertility totem, and many women would annoint their daughters with oil from her. It was really interesting to watch. I spent the whole evening just wandering around, watching people worship, sitting next to the "golden lotus pool" in the courtyard, and finally watching a ceremony in which the god and goddess statutes are put in a special golden swing and sung to by priests.

That night we all had dinner together, and then really enjoyed watching the end of Braveheart on TV. Just as I predicted, I have much more desire to watch stupid movies and eat Western food than I did when I arrived, butI still have a low tolerance for 18 yera-olds. My stratagy was to do just what I wanted, and mostly leave them in the dust!

Satruday, was shopping day! Madrai is famous for tailors, and I sucumbed to their charms and had three shirts made. They weer supposed to copy an Ann Taylor shirt that you and I got together, Jess, but apparently they thought I needed it two sizes bigger. Graet for here, but Ann will have to see to them when I get back. The colors were lovely, though and I remembered what I like abuot barganing. This time I "barganed like a Berber" by saying a price, then not budging until they came down to me. Sometimes, it's the bset way. I also got a few gifts, and a new bag that I made them sow a zipper pocket in. Everything is the most amazing colors, bordered with gold ribbon with lotuses and elephants!

More on the weekend later, the internet is closing early for Dwali (for which I have two invites! and a sari! and bangles! eee!) and I promise that I'll spend lots of time on Saturday catching you all up.