How amazing the human body and consciousness is. To be one day slopping through snow and bundling against the elements (well, maybe not real artic winter yet), or even drinking beer in a NYC Grand Central Station oyster bar. The next day wandering through a grove of coconut, rubber and banana trees, taking in a curious mix of smells and sounds and sights totally from a different side of the plant. Welcome to Kerala, India.
It was dark at 5 on Wednesday morning as my driver threaded his way away from the Trivandrum airport, gradually rising from the coast into the hills. The little diesel engine car wound along (on the right hand side of) small, windy roads, where despite the hour, people were gathering around small open air store fronts/snack huts, wood fires or stoves, (and oh, yes, there’s someone carrying a vessel on their head) – or motoring by motor scooter, bus, lorry (somehow that seems the better word than “truck” – after all, this is a former British colony), or the occasional small car. It’s mostly forested, and life sits right there along the road, a lot of concrete walls and houses, from shack to ornate tile-roofed beauties. Wood smoke, damp, a rich mix of earthy smells, and color, even through the dark. Welcome to Kerala India, other side of the planet from my home.
By day – today, Friday, being my first trip back to the city – it’s all that and more in the light. My driver, as all drivers, drives with his horn, bumping along at no more than 30 mph, tapping the horn to warn the many pedestrians, or slower 3-wheeled auto rickshaws, or bicycles of his presence, or intention to pass. With all the honking, no one is angry, or offended when being cut off. It’s just the close way of being together, often with little leeway for maneuvering – WATCH OUT for that bus! – and taking advantage of the small space that is there for the maneuvering around. Hot, dusty, loud, crowded. The presence of the communist party (red flags and bamboo, or wood bus stop-like shelters with pictures of politicians) is common – Kerala was the first place in the world, in the late 40s to democratically elect the communists into power. 60 years later, it is the progressive hot spot of India.
The hilltowns (as we call then in Western Mass) here are small villages with tiny open shops that either hold groceries (fronted by bananas, oranges, and now coconuts and melons or sweet-looking cookies, or packaged candies), or “stuff” that you’re not sure what the theme is (and being limited to English): buckets, clothes (well that one’s usually clear), repair shops. Piles of stuff everywhere. No glass (as in windows), including on the buses. As you get closer to the city, more glass, more signs giving you clues to the nature of the vendor, more people, more contrast with money.
I’ve settled in to my new comforts, housed in a small whitewashed brick room with private toilet, in the Guest House of Mitranketan. Mitraniketan is a fascinating community and education center that was in part inspired by Antioch College and its hometown of Yellow Springs Ohio, and prominent President in the mid 20th century Arthur Morgan. I’ll write more about this later. Basic accommodations, again, no glass, just curtains, a small little balcony looking out through the woods. 80 (27C) degrees by day; down to 75 in the early morning hours. The big red bucket is key, since you fill that with water to flush the toilet or bath yourself. As I and others got coached in preparing for this visit, bottled water only for tooth brushing and drinking – though our hostesses in the Director’s House where we eat, boils water for us to fill our water bottles with.
At a restaurant lunch in town today today with the the People's College Director Reghu and our driver, I drank bottled water; they drank some local water based drink from a glass. I mostly used a fork to eat with, though gradually involved fingers, watching while my hosts ate artfully and entirely with fingers, very effective for mixing the rice with fish, vegetables, and all kinds of sauces. A “hungry man’s” meal as Reghu tells me. When you pause in your eating, you just rest your gloppy hands on the edge of the table. You wash up at the end of the meal.
I wake up around 4 am, partly because of jet lag (10.5 hours ahead of EST), partly because that’s when the various local churches, synogogues, and not sure who else start their amplified music, chanting, Indian string music (sitar?), filtering through the woods. Since Thursday was a national holiday (Indian constitution day), and then today was a sudden added one (the Governor of Kerala died the night before), there is even more occasion for these morning rituals, as well as some kind of singing this afternoon, and the night before.
I’ve already joined a small community of Europeans at eating times (and sharing rooms in the Guesthouse). A small group from a Swedish folkhighschool including 2 Icelanders and a Dane; several other Danes, a couple of retired German teachers, a traveling Brit/Scot couple. They are all doing a variety of teaching or work volunteering. My own “comrades” from the Association for World Education are arriving on Sunday – we set to work on Monday for a week. So my orientation is helped along by these conversations, along with a borrowed copy of the infamous “Lonely Planet” guide to India. Learning about all the places I’ll want to visit when our seminar is over.
And the Indian people. To no surprise, they are friendly, smiley, warm, and … relaxed. I’m already drinking up the slowed down pace (amidst the crowded, noisy, smell-filled stimulating surroundings). How does that work?. Of course I’m not doing much myself just yet. Everyone is comfortable with English, so the learning for me is catching on to the accent.
So now I am plugged in, taking away a bit of the freedom of being totally in India. Deferring to my home habit of minimizing the on-the-go phone, I instead (of a phone) purchased a $30 USB wireless plug in today, which required a side trip to get a photo id made to make the purchase with (along with passport). High security, what with the role of communications in the Arab Spring and beyond. So now I can post on this blog, and do e-mail. When we get our seminar started on Monday, we’ll be posting on facebook as well! Stay tuned!
I’ve promised some, and will at some point, writing about the bigger journey I am on these 6 months –life – ahead. Until then, welcome to India!
No comments:
Post a Comment