India (Chennai): In the Airport

Well folks, it's time for Monkey Man to say goodbye to Mother India. It's been great, but it is time indeed to leave.

So it's off to Kuala Lumpur from here where I need to line up a ticket to get me back to Nippon for the wrap up before my grand and much anticipated return to the US. At some point, when I get some time to sit down with a decent connection to the net, I'll share some interesting stories with y'all of my (mis)adventures over these past few weeks.

Interestingly enough, I managed to get through most of my trip here without really getting seriously ripped off...that is until these past few days when I actually started shopping for souvenirs to bring back to the kiddies back home (don't get those expectations up too high, you little squirts). Pretty much every purchase I made, I got charged double to triple what I should have. Moto drivers all delighted in quoting me fares that were also double to triple what I had been told they would be. The kicker was getting ripped off even here in the airport. You've gotta know your prices and know how to bargain even in the frickin' international terminal of the Chennai Airport. A sweets shop owner took me for a nice little ride on a purchase for a friend...but hey, I'm outtie, the trip has been overall good, the sums I've been cheated of are nothing in US or Japanese currency, and it's Diwali Eve everyone!!! Happy Diwali to all (and I'm betting it's gonna be especially happy for all those wily merchants who duped this poor, tired, dopey traveler out of his Gandhi bills)!!!

One love, peeps. Happy Halloween.

India (Tamil Nadu) - Sink or Swim at LAFTI

(The following is the text I entered into the LAFTI site shortly after arriving at LAFTI)

Two nights ago, I arrived at the LAFTI headquarters here in Kuthur. After a night’s rest, I accompanied Amma (Krishnamal) and some of the staff out to a village where LAFTI had erected new homes for people and is helping with the acquisition and distribution of fertilizer.

We then traveled to another village in which many people had lost their homes to the tsunami. Amma is bringing the home building program there with the ambition of providing people with solid homes made of brick to replace the thatch and mud huts they lost in the disaster.

We then made a whirlwind tour of the area that I assume was for my benefit. I was shown homes that LAFTI has erected and many more that are still in mid construction; vast expanses of rich green fertile lands Appa (Jagannathan) freed up through a titanic struggle that he won only after a climactic fast that lasted for 13 days; the area where the terrible massacre of dalit women and children occurred that prompted Amma and Appa to move here; the hostel which LAFTI maintains for roughly 80 girls who would otherwise be unable to attend school because of the remote locations of their homes; the huge tracts of land that continue to be used illegally as prawn farms despite an order from the supreme court for their dismantlement; and the 5 kilometer long wall LAFTI mobilized people to build in order to protect farming land from the devastating floods caused by the presence of the prawn farms.

Before I continue any further, I should introduce myself. My name is Tatsu. I am originally from Japan, but from the age of four, I was raised in the United States (Seattle and Oakland/San Francisco). I returned to Japan immediately after graduating from college and worked for the past seven years as a teacher and administrator in the public school system. At the end of this past school year in March, I left my job to see some of the world. My travels have thus far taken me through Malaysia, Thailand, Laos, Cambodia and Singapore. I arrived in India for the first time in my life two weeks ago.

I was introduced to LAFTI through David (Willis) and it was his encouragement that prompted me to come here. David (Albert) and Aliyah have entrusted maintenance of the blog to me for the duration of my stay here. To my surprise though, it looks as if this will be my only entry.

Shortly before leaving the ashram for the tour, Amma told me that she had plans for me. The next morning (today), I was to be dropped off in a small village called Porkkalakudi. There, it would be my task to work with a LAFTI worker already posted there to set up (1) a nursery school program, (2) a baby chick(en) inoculation and distribution program and (3) a drumstick plant cultivation program.

This morning, I got up and hopped on the back of a motorcycle with Veerasami who took me out to Porkkulakudi. I was introduced to the woman who is to be my partner in this project, Kanakhi, who has been posted in Porkkulakudi since early September. Veerasami explained that I was to be her new partner. She explained that someone in the village had passed away the previous evening so she was postponing the launch of the nursery school program for a couple of days and thus my presence was not yet needed. Inside, I breathed a guilty sigh of relief.

Up until today, my entire vocabulary in the Tamil language has been only nunri (‘Thank you’), vanakam (basic word of greeting) and the names of several basic food items (idly, dosa, sambar). As I understand it, pretty much nobody in the village speaks either English or Japanese, the only two languages in which I have proficiency. As for plant cultivation, I am renowned far and wide only for my ability to inadvertently bring an early and painful death to any plant placed under my care.

I am hoping that my saving grace will be the extensive experience I’ve had with working with children of all ages in Japan. It’s hard, however, to not feel like I’m being asked to jump out of a fast moving vehicle on the highway; gotta hit the ground running or else fall flat on my face.

India: Perusing My Online Photos

For those of you who are interested in going through the pictures I have taken thus far on my journey, you may find the following two links useful:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/67916188@N00/tags/
and
http://www.flickr.com/photos/26952510@N00/tags/

These links lead to the tag directories of my two photo album accounts on flickr. Please do feel free to make comments on the pictures but please keep the language rated G; my students are also looking at the pictures.

India (Madurai): Off to LAFTI

At long last, the holding pattern I was in as I awaited clearance from LAFTI to head on out there has come to an end. Today, I will hop on the bus out to the small village of Kuthur, where LAFTI is based. I'm still not exactly sure what I'm going to be doing when I get there, but my first goal is to try to stay out from underfoot of everybody else. My second goal is to make myself useful as quickly as is possible.

I have already proven to be ridiculously bad at maintaining this blog and especially the blog I set up in Japanese. But once I reach LAFTI, I'm supposed to be making entries to yet another blog - The LAFTI blog (see links in sidebar) - so please forgive me if this blog once again sees very little activity for the next month or so while I am out there. As the LAFTI blog is fairly serious, I guess this blog will have to serve as the repository of all of my stupid, inane, shallow, childish thoughts and observations... so uh, I guess not much will be changing. In any case, lots of love to you all. I gots me a bus to catch.

India (Madurai): Quake in Kashmir

As most of you doubtless already know, a terrible earthquake struck the Kashmir region of North India/Pakistan a couple of days ago. The casualty numbers coming out of there are truly horrific. Yesterday, the estimate was roughly 2000 dead. Today, the estimate has made the incredible leap to over 30,000 dead and the number is only expected to keep rising. The UN says 2.5 million are now without shelter.

It is apparently the worst natural disaster in the history of Pakistan and the worst earthquake to hit the region in the past century. The scale of destruction looks to be at least on par with the December earthquake in Iran two years ago.

As a note to those of you who may be worried about me, please rest assured that I am fine. The quake struck Pakistan and the northernmost regions of India. I am in Tamil Nadu, the southernmost state of India and about as far away as one can get from the earthquake zone and still remain within India (roughly analogous to me being in Texas when a quake hits Maine). Please do not worry about me. Please do, however, worry about the people in the earthquake stricken region.

For those of you that pray, please pray for the millions who have been caught in this destruction. For those of you can afford to, please consider making an aid donation.

India (Madurai): How Many Indians Can You Fit in a Bus?

This'll be a quick post because the mosquitoes in this internet cafe are tearing up my feet right now. You know, as I was leaving my room I thought to myself, "maybe I should bring my repellant...naaaaaah." Smart. Really smart.

So back to the story. Upon reaching Ernakulum, I caught a moto over to the bus terminal and purchased a ticket for a seat on the overnight "superfast" bus service to Madurai. I had been warned by Ananda's sister to specifically request a seat on the bus lest I wind up standing for the ride, so I did so, but felt a bit unsure as to the necessity of such a request. Surely, for an overnight busride of 10 hours, everyone's gonna have a seat, right? Indian people couldn't possibly be that hardcore, right?

I get onto the bus and lo and behold, there are actually a number of open seats. Nobody is sitting in the seat next to me so I spread out comfortably between the two seats (a single seat actually being too narrow in the firstplace to accomodate even the width of my shoulders) and wait for the bus to take off at 7:45.

At 7:44 and 59 seconds, a hoarde of additional passengers materialize out of nowhere and crowd onto the bus. The empty seats are quickly filled and a large sweaty man who smells like he's been sweating for a while seats himself next to me. In order for both of us to fit, his legs are part way out in the aisle, I'm sitting with my shoulders hunched inwards. People continue to board and there are now people standing in the aisle.

"You've gotta be kidding me," I think, looking up at the poor souls without seats. The bus rumbles to life and off we go beeping and honking into the chaotic maelstrom of the city traffic. We drive along for about 5 minutes before we stop at an intersection - to allow more passengers to board!!!

"Holy sh--," I mumble to myself as we speed off, the aisle now jammed full of people.

Unbelievably, we continue along for only a few more minutes before we stop yet again to pick up passengers. And then again. And again. The aisle of the bus is now completely filled with men and I am feeling very thankful for my seat indeed. And at the same time, a little bit guilty. I thought Tokyo rush hour was bad, but seeing this, I now realize how comfortable that rush hour is. At least in Tokyo, there is air conditioning, the ride is reasonably smooth (no potholes on the railway) and it only lasts at max an hour or two. This is ten frickin' hours. At this point, I'm thinking to myself Indian people have got to be the most hard-core bad mutha's on the face of the planet. Not a single complaint, not a single groan. Just all these men standing crammed into the aisle of this bus as it races through the night and out into the countryside. All of them sweaty, stinky and stoic.

An hour or so of this later, we reach a stop (where, I know not) and I am relieved to watch a number of the passengers disembark. More get on to replace some, but not all. This unloading and loading of passengers happens again a few times through the night and in the end (after about 3 hours or so) nobody is standing in the aisle.

As we hurtle through the darkness of the night, passing through the outskirts of Ernakulum and then other towns, I see huge homes that in the darkness for some reason remind of large beautiful homes in New England. I can almost smell the crisp autumn air of October in Massachussetts and I find myself longing desperately to be back in the US. I wonder also who lives in these big homes...and what kinds of lives they lead.

Somewhere a bit before 5am, we finally pull into the bus station on the outskirts of Madurai. It is still dark so I decide to wait until the sunrise before making a move. I have slept very little through the night, but to keep me company, I have a swarm of moto drivers around me for the next couple of hours badgering me to let one of them take me into town.

India (Ernakulum): Ferry Encounters

This morning I woke up after a solid nights sleep and started packing up. After a few days of getting myself recharged on good food and quiet surroundings, I find myself wanting to get back out and experience the rush of life over here again.

I walked down to the waterfront and thought to myself, 'I've been here long enough. Surely I should be able to handle eating food from a street hawker.' So, I wandered along and as I passed one particularly busy hawker stall, a number of the customers seemed to notice my lingering gaze and looked up at me in interest. One of them, a young man who looked to be in his twenties, called out, "My friend, come. My friend.!" He pulled out a stool next to him and gestured for me to sit down.

So I sat down and had the "I'll have what he's having" plate. It turned out to be a tasty fish curry served with a couple of dosai. The price for the meal was less than half of what I've been paying for other meals in this, the tourist enclave of the town. As I ate, I thought to myself, 'Boy, I've been missing out. Why didn't I try this sooner?!'

My answer came as I was walking back to my guesthouse and started to feel the first sharp stabbing pains in my stomach.

Wonderful timing. Just as I'm getting ready to leave and I get my first case of...something. As I had not yet checked out, I lay down on my bed hoping the pain would go away. It didn't. I started to toy with the idea of staying another night. But my stubborness won out over my good sense. Check out time came so I checked out. But I still wasn't in any shape to move. So I sat in a chair to try to wait out the pain.

Meanwhile, a major cricket match between India and Australia was playing out on the TV. From my seat, I could also see out the front door to the old parade ground where school boys in blue slacks and short sleeve light blue collared shirts were scatttered about playing there own games of cricket. Drooling from the pain of indigestion, I sat and occupied my mind trying to figue out the rules governing this sport which so enthralls the male populations of India and Pakistan.

I never did figure out the rules for cricket, but for some reason, the pain eventually passed (without even a trip to the WC!). I grabbed my bags and (ignoring the advice of one of the people running the guest house to use a moto and make reservations for the bus leaving from the island) set off to catch the ferry for Ernakulum.

As I stood waiting for the ferry, somebody put his hand on my shoulder. I turned around to see Ananda (Surya), a local poet and environmental activist, whom I had met the previous day when I wandered randomly into his wife's art gallery. When we met, he had noticed the copy of "Globalization and Its Discontents" I was carrying and had asked me about my thoughts on globalization. Just as our conversation was starting though, he had to run off to take care of some other business.

"I guess there must be a reason for us meeting again," I said without thinking.
"I agree," Ananda replied. He was there with his sister who had just returned on a flight from Germany earlier in the morning.
"We were not able to complete our meeting properly yesterday, so now we have our chance," said Ananda as we hopped onto the ferry.

On the ferry, Ananda had me pull out my guidebook. Turning to the section on Tiruvannamalai he said, "Here is where I live. This is my address and contact information. When you get the chance, you should come visit me so that we can perhaps deepen our relationship. And Tiruvannamali is a very spiritual place...even by Indian standards."

Oops. Out of time. More later.

India (Kochi) - The Fort

After a few days of sitting around in the ashram eating mushy food and watching devoted from around the world go about their daily solemn meditation and yoga and all that good stuff, I decided it was time to move on. All of that silence, deep thought, people clad in white atmosphere, people going on in bliss about "Did you see her?!!" was for some reason getting me into a funk. That and reading Gandhiji's autobiography. Great guy, but all the stuff about his experiments in diet and eating only fruits and nuts to subdue his "animal" appetites was seriously getting me down. I have always looked up to Gandhi and aspired to be like him, but I guess one doesn't get to be a mahatma without sacrifice. Too bad I like my meat, sweets, pizza and other sinful indulgences too much.

Anyway, hopped on the boat around midday to continue the journey up to Allepey. Considered staying a night in Allepey (dubbed the Venice of India because of its extensive canal network) but instead threw in my lot with a Spanish couple and gentleman from France who were on my boat and in a hurry to reach Kochi. I felt pangs of regret at first, wondering if perhaps I had given up the chance to see someplace beautiful and make some good new friendships (as it is low season and tourists are few in numbers here), but those pangs were dispelled as I spoke with the Spanish woman on the taxi ride up about the fascinating path she had taken over the past couple of decades from being a casual backpacker to a tour guide to the owner of several small shops in Spain selling goods from India and SE Asia. I learned a great deal.

Upon reaching Kochi, we found rooms in the old fort area. I was blown away. So quiet. So beautiful. And so clean. Unbelievably clean. No people defecating or urinating on the side of the road (to be fair though, I've only seen people defecating on the street a couple of times), garbage in predetermined places, lots of greenery, a minimum of traffic, no cows wandering around grazing on roadside garbage...The rooms of my homestay place even are amazing - the walls are freshly painted, the floor is so clean I can actually see my reflection in it (as opposed to most of the floors I have experienced thus far that have been covered in dust, various foodstuffs and insects) and I don't have to deal with a perpetual stench from my bathroom area.

The next morning, I arose and took a walk around the area to discover a place that is peaceful, green and beautiful. Old churches are everywhere(By some accounts, Christianity first reached here in the first century AD, well before it managed to get a foothold in Europe) and old colonial buildings make up the rest of what is to be found here. Boys play cricket in the open grass field (the old parade grounds) between my guesthouse and St. Francis Church (the oldest church erected by Europeans in Asia which was the first resting place of Vasco de Gama's remains when he died).



Yes. That's right folks. Ashamed though I am to admit it, the reason I'm liking it so much here has a lot to do with the fact that the colonial era left this place so European looking.



But then yesterday night, I crossed the bridges over to the neighboring city of Ernakulum and yes, it was a return to the beep-beep honk honk chaos, but things are still much cleaner and less chaotic than Madurai. In fact, things are downright prosperous.

Sigh. One of the major discoveries I've made on this trip is what a wussy I am. There are only so many days that I can stand breathing and walking in and sleeping in filth and noise before I start to crave a nice, clean, quiet room to recharge in. And I like being clean. And shaven. And I have the nerve to complain about my room stinking and being dirty when I see things like a woman and her children sleeping out on one of those aforementioned dusty, dirty, stinky, garbage-strewn streets.

India (Kerala) - Great Souls

Set out from Madurai at the beginning of last week to visit a Buddhist monk friend of Sekar's. The monk, Ishitani-ji, is originally from Hokkaido and first came to India back in the late 1960s when he was about my age now. At the time, the Vietnam War was raging. Fed up with the Japanese government and society in general, Ishitani-ji left to travel the world. His first stop was India. And he never made it any further.

In India, Ishitani-ji met a Japanese Buddhist monk, Fujii Nichidatsu,who had come to India to help bring Buddhism back to the land of its birth (Buddhism, for the most part, had disappeared from the subcontinent). In the course of his work, Fujii became friends with Gandhi-ji who called him "Fujii Guruji."

Until meeting Fujii Guruji, young Ishitani-ji viewed religion in general as a bunch of lies and was uninterested. Yet, this monk had something about him, something that he somehow felt he needed to be near. So Ishitani-ji stayed on and walked (literally) with this monk throughout India. In the course of it all, he became a disciple and eventually successor.


The particular sect of Buddhism he belongs to is firmly committed to peace. They are the same ones who build peace pagodas all over the world. And they are serious about this commitment...serious to the point that Ishitani-ji, for instance, went into Sri Lanka during the peak of the civil war and tried to the stop fighting. He told me one particularly harrowing story of being put up against a wall by the military and fired upon by a machine gun because he had plunked himself down in the middle of a battle scene and refused to get out of the way until everybody stopped fighting. They were only trying to scare him, but shortly thereafter, another monk who had come with him did end up getting shot to death (executed) by rebels.


In any case, after years of being based at a temple located adjacent to the Gandhi Memorial Museum in Madurai, he is now in a place called Shakarancoil (sp?), a dry, dusty and poor town which to me seemed like the middle of nowhere. He is trying to build a temple and a peace pagoda there on land donated to him by a wealthy Hindu patron.


I stayed out at the under-construction-temple with Ishitani-ji and two nuns, trying to help out where I could and asking questions at night of the three about their faith and their lives. Despite all the hammering and sawing noise of the day, the temple was a blissfully peaceful change from the BEEP-BEEP-HONK-HONK-BEEEEEP-CLANG cacophony and choking pollution of Madurai (FUN FACT: breathing the air in most major Indian cities for a day is something equivalent to smoking 2 packs of cigarettes...this is a significant improvement as only several years ago, the estimate was closer to 3 packs).

Friday came and I decided I should be moving along, so I hopped the train down south and then through the Ghats to the west, arriving that afternoon in Kollam, Kerala.

Kollam (Quilon) lies at the southern edge of Kerala's famous Backwaters (one of the towns along it, Kottayam, being Arundhati Roy's hometown and setting of her book "The God of Small Things"). The town was small and noisy, but seemed markedly more peaceful than Madurai. Also, a shopping complex that looked like it could have been lifted straight out of Kuala Lumpur or someplace in LA gave me my first glimpse of life for the much talked about growing middle class of India.



After staying one night, I hopped on a Backwater tourist cruise heading for Allepey. For the first time since entering India, I was with other tourists. I was at once disappointed and yet at the same time felt a sense of relief that made me feel a bit ashamed.

The Backwater is truly beautiful, made all the more beautiful by the stark contrast all the greenery and the dreamily slow life along its shores makes to the chaotic jumble of cities I've experienced thus far.

Partway up the route, we were scheduled to make a brief stop at Amritapuri, the site of an ashram devoted to one of India's most famous living mahatmas, "The Hugging Mother." I had read about it in the guidebook, but was stunned by the sheer size of the place - a city of devotees and pilgrims in the middle of a sea of palm trees. Several of the other passengers were getting off to stay for a night so I decided "What the heck" and hopped off. When we arrived, "Amma," as the mahatma is called by most, was giving her last day of dharshan (literally, "glimpse of God"), which here takes the form of her hugging each and everyone of her visitors, before getting ready to leave on a tour of Europe and US for the next several months.

It is estimated that to date, Amma has hugged over 3 million people. I am now one of them.

People say that they feel as if they have been imbued with energy or "cleansed" when they receive this hug. As I stood in line waiting for my hug, I asked myself what question I might have for Amma or what burden I might need her help with. And all I came up with was the conviction that the things I need to tackle are things that I must tackle on my own. So perhaps for that reason, the hug I received seemed to be only that to me; a hug.

Okay, running out of time, so this will have to be continued later. And to be fair, Amma's story is pretty incredible. Try googling her and see what you think.

Right now, still at the ashram (have stayed for two nights) doing some meditating on life. But more on that later (perhaps after I get up to Kochin in a few days). Thanks to Ishitani-ji and to Amma for setting me to the task of doing some long-neglected introspection and deep thinking.

Ahh, and a big shout out to Gandhi-ji (whose autobiography I am reading now); today is his birthday.

And to all of you:
Om Shanti Om