Kerala, aka "God's own country"

View from our canoe on the Kerala backwaters. No mosquitoes since the brackish water isn't stagnant.

Christy and Danny's paparazzi at a beach near the airport.

Our driver called these "Dubai houses."

Kerala was the final stop on our 10 day travels. Kerala is an interesting state since it has a communist government, the highest per capita income and the highest literacy rate in India. They have a market economy and we saw no beggars. It is about an equal mix of Hindus, Christians and Muslims and they all get along. The money comes from the Middle East, where many Keralan emigrants go to work and send money home. The streets are lined with colorful, single family homes, something I haven't seen anywhere else in my limited travels here.

We did a homestay with Vejeesh and his parents on Munroe Island. His mother made our meals, and the south Indian food was different from anything we've had up north. One breakfast was crepes stuffed with toasted coconut and steamed bananas  with watermelon or pineapple smoothies. YUM! The only bad thing about the place was noise-noise-noise from a local temple that began at 5:27am and continued until after we went to bed. The tinny loudspeakers blasted music and chants that brought to mind audio waterboarding as a form of torture. All was quiet for a couple of hours in the afternoon and we could hear the birds and other natural noises in our tropical paradise. Vejeesh showed us some fun local treasures, such as pepper, cloves, nutmeg and cinnamon growing on trees. He stood on  one end of our canoe with a long bamboo pole punting us through the back waters at sunset, where we saw a farmer punt across the water to pick up two little goats who were grazing. Then the farmer went to a different grazing spot to fetch his cow, who jumped clumsily into the water and swam home beside the farmer's canoe. Vejeesh said that not during, but after the big Tsunami in 2014, the water has slowly risen, and is flooding out many of the homes. We saw brilliant blue kingfishers and kites (birds of prey sacred to Hindus), herons and fireflies.

The Western Ghats mountains at Ponmudi. (Elevation 3400 feet.)

This photo doesn't do justice to these verdant, mountains beyond mountains in Kerala's Western Ghats. I really am a mountain girl, and these hills fed my soul. The sky was blue and there was no litter! We hiked around for about an hour before we had to come down and drive to the airport. On our drive up, our driver told us that people had seen a tiger cross the road some months back! "Tigers are available," he said, but we had no such luck. We did see many rubber trees, with small buckets attached. Every day a farmer slits the bark and milky rubber drips into the bucket like maple syrup. We saw a man who mixed acid into the rubber and poured it into 15x19 pans where it congealed into stinky white sheets. He hung them over a line to dry before packing them up for delivery to the next person on the rubber chain. You learn something new every day.

Mumbai

Taj Hotel and the Gateway of India from Mumbai Harbor

The happy couple and the Taj Hotel

Mumbai was the second leg of our journey since Scott had work there. We stayed at a clean and comfortable  guesthouse where they generously gave us free meals at the canteen since cash was so hard to come by. (Maybe they would have anyway, but it was a life-saver.) We rode a ferry out and got a good look at the city from the harbor. Mumbai is home to Bollywood. It's also the financial center of India, so it's sort of like LA and NYC combined. I loved the skyscrapers and Victorian architecture. We toured the Sassoon Fishing Docks where we saw women sitting, shelling great piles of shrimp on the side of the road. Trishna's restaurant (they take VISA) cooked up some of that "frash feesh" for our lunch and the maitre d' brought out a prawn as big as his forearm. We walked through the 150 year old Dhobi ghat, the worlds biggest outdoor "human washing machine," where men  wash, dry and iron tons of laundry for hotels and hospitals. We renewed our admiration for Ghandi at his former house in Mumbai and found the only working ATM of our travels. I like Mumbai.

Google images: Dhobi Ghat

Pushkar Camel Fair-Rajasthan

Camel taxi-we rode around the fair in it to get oriented. How could we resist?

 These are scenes from our once-in-a-lifetime visit to the Pushkar Fair where we spent two days, which was plenty! We rode southwest across India in a train for 6 hours, then "camped" in a big white Swiss tent with a flush toilet, real beds, electricity and ac. We ate under a tent with other tourists from Germany and the UK. At night the Royal Heritage Safari lit a campfire and brought in musicians, dancers and fire eaters.

Driving camels to market

Musician at our Royal Heritage camp site-we saw men dressed like this everywhere.

Tightrope walker with mother and babe spotting.

Scott and  I rode this camel. The infant beside Christy held the reins. He claimed to be 15 years old.

Riding the camel was a terrifying adventure. Its legs are about eight feet long and when he/she stood on his back legs we had to hold on tight and lean back like a rodeo or slide onto his head. Then up onto the front legs and a wobbly gait around the fair into the sunset. We talked to a man about riding our camel but once we were up he handed the reins to this child! The boy acted as if he's been leading camels around since he learned to walk. He probably has! We have no picture of Danny and Christy riding their camel since Scott and I were focused on staying on our own beast.

At the fair we saw three giant ferris wheels  and many expat tourists. The constant press of hawkers holding their trinkets in our faces and beggars clutching our arms and the crush of people was exhausting. We missed the snake charmers and the camel races and the moustache contest. If you're bored check out the Pushkar Fair 2016 on google images. That's what we experienced with all five senses.

Google images: this was typical dress for the Indian women at the fair.

Long ago Brahma, the creator, dropped some flower petals in Pushkar and a holy lake formed. Perhaps the  most dramatic part of the fair was watching thousands of Hindu pilgrims walk down to the lake and wash or take a dip for remission of their sins. Nearly every woman was draped head to toe in flowing red, hot pink, orange or yellow fabric. Men wore white with a turban or western clothing. No photography allowed.

Here's one more from google images that I can't resist.

Wow. They tuck these up into the turban.

sub for Santa

If anyone is still looking for a Christmas helping opportunity, I've got one. My Afghan family is living on very little and I'd like to give them a big Christmas. In addition to cash for clothes, shoes etc. I'd like to go shopping with the mom to get them some specific gifts. They're all hungry for books.

For the grandfather: the family had a pistachio tree in their old home and he has talked fondly of how much they enjoyed it, along with other fruit trees in their garden. The older kids talked with bright eyes about how they got some pistachios a few years ago and they were SO delicious. Pistachios are expensive here, so I'd like to get them 5 lbs which will cost around $40. They also love almonds and walnuts.

For the father: I don't know. I'll ask my friend to choose something. Did I mention that the Taliban broke his back? It's a common cruelty/torture that the Taliban is known for. Maybe a book in Farsi. Any suggestions for a Christian who already has a Bible?

For the mother: I don't know either. I'll probably just give her cash plus a little something to remember me by.

For the oldest daughter,age 14: I'd love to buy her an electric keyboard and some sheet music for Frozen and other Disney songs that she requested. They've borrowed a keyboard  but have to give it back. Before that they would walk 45 minutes to the church when they knew it would be unlocked for her to practice. A cheap but not rubbish keyboard would cost $200. The girl has taken piano lessons from senior missionaries when there happens to be one in the area who plays. She can play simplified hymns and seems completely self-motivated.

For the son, age 12: He loves all things Spiderman, so I'll find a very cool shirt. I'll also consult with his mom.

For the son, age 10: He loves Hulk and Big Hero 6 and books. I'll find a T-shirt and maybe some action figures.

For the two younger daughters, age 5 and 7: They love Disney and Barbie princesses so I'll get the mom to help me pick out a Barbie and maybe dress-ups. The Barbies are around $15 each here and dress-ups are probably about the same.

If you would like to sponsor a child or donate money, please email me. We are only taking Paypal donations at Scott's account: bradford@byu.edu. In the unlikely event that we get a ridiculously large amount of money, I will donate to the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees or the Red Cross. We are working with both of these organizations to see about getting legal documents for the family.

We wish you all a Merry Christmas and thankful, happy hearts.

Black Money

Queuing up at the ATM/

On Tuesday evening ten days ago, Prime Minister Modi came on the news to announce that as of midnight, all 500 and 1000 rupee notes would be officially useless. These two bills, worth $7.50 and $15 respectively, are used in 85% of transactions in this cash economy, so everybody feels the inconvenience or devastation.  It's an attempt to root out and render useless all the "black money," the ill-gotten, un-taxed crime and corruption money that is making Pakistanis and gangsters rich, or so the rumors go. Modi added that the following day all banks and ATMs would be closed and after that people could go exchange old bills for new in small amounts at banks or draw money in small amounts from ATMs. He admonished us to ignore the inconvenience for the good of the country.

But guess what? The new bills are a different size and they don't work in ATMs so people can only get stacks of 100 rupee notes, 20 at a time, which equals about $30. Banks are handing out new 2000 rupee notes, but without 500s or 1000s vendors have trouble making change. A billion Indians are queuing up at banks and ATMs all over the country. Everywhere we go we see people lined up. The newspaper shows desperate people sleeping overnight in lines. Most ATMs are empty. Even though there's an ATM on every block, armored  trucks that can transport money are in short supply. 100 rupee notes take a lot of room in the ATMs. We've stood in line with all the others, only to have the machines run empty before we get to the front. I spent two of our recent vacation mornings walking around looking for working ATMs in Mumbai, with no luck. (Scott was there on business, and we all went along. I told Scott that living through this kind of an economic debacle should be an economist's dream, but he's not so sure.) It's quite the disaster. The government cancelled all public parking fees and tolls. Farmers and fruit and vegetable vendors have food rotting because people don't have cash. People have trouble paying the rickshaw and taxi drivers. It's tough for us because we don't have an Indian bank account, but Scott's colleague in Mumbai kindly gave us part of our reimbursement in cash to help us get by. Gangsters just hire people to exchange money at the banks for a small cut, and it's not surprising that the people at the bottom of society are hurting the most. The crisis is by no means resolved. Badly done, Modi!

Two days later: We have a government owned bank nearby with an ATM that gets loaded every night. We can walk over at 8pm and stand in line for about a half hour and get our 2000 rupees. Yay!

We're #1.

We're #1. In air pollution. One account said it's the worst it's been in 17 years. You would not believe how toxic and smokey the air is. Our Utah air quality website says that any fine particulate/PM2.5 above 250 is hazardous: a red, no burn day. In Delhi we hit 999; maybe that's how high the meter goes. People are walking with their heads down and I hear sounds of respiratory distress all around. My eyes sting. I don't want to hang my clothes and sheets in it. It's bad in the house too.  We have to stay calm. Not many people wear masks. Do they even work? I looked for one today in my market but they only had surgical masks. Now I know what it's like to live in the  most polluted city in the world. It stinks. 

Mentally processing a lizard in the kitchen (This was my first entry in September. It jumped the queue.)

Blog Schmog.
But it's a good way to record and communicate our experience here in Delhi--in India! So I'll start with my most lasting impression today and work backwards and forwards from here.
We've been here more than a month and today I saw our first house lizard crawling across the kitchen wall. We knew lizards lived indoors, but this one was a little bigger and courser skinned than I might have wished. Do lizards avoid humans the way mice do? Are they interested in fragrant lotions and shampoos? Will  lizards drink from the water glass I left on the counter the way cats do? These are the questions keeping me up tonight.

Nizamuddin

The alley leading to Nizamuddin's tomb. 

Lucky me. I went to the Nizamuddin neighborhood with friends who wanted to "buy meat," meaning water buffalo. My friend brought an extra scarf. I talked them into visiting the holy site. Nizamuddin was a 14th century Sufi mystic admired for his "piety and disdain for material desires...His daily assemblies drew both the rich and the poor." (That's from my DK India tour book.) Several hundred years later Muslims still read his sayings and go to his tomb with prayers and offerings. We saw supplicants, but not until we had walked through a long covered alley with several right angle turns. It was a little claustrophobic. All along the way men in white sold colorful Muslim alter cloths, flower petals and for ten rupees, wanted to watch our shoes while we were at the tomb. You can see the ground is covered in rugs or tiled. Photography was not allowed at the tomb, where women prayed outside of lattice-work walls while men knelt directly around what looked to me like a bed. It was very foreign and a little scary. A man approached me with a guest book to sign and asked "what he could put me down for." (That's paraphrasing Dickens.) I left a hundred rupee note on a separate table where others had donated. On the way out my friends told me they had never been "inside" before and they marveled at my courage. Fools rush in?

Diwali!

I wrote about Diwali at about 8pm, which was way too early for a proper assessment. The fireworks got more intense so we went up on the roof again, where an exhilarating scene of chaos and lights burst all around us. On  the ground and on roof-tops people were lighting fireworks and crackers in such profusion that we felt like we were at Provo's Stadium of fire or at the National Mall on the 4th of July but with fireworks from every direction lasting for hours. Here the fireworks appear to be completely unregulated; there was no fire marshal to create a fallout zone. We had some enormous gold fireworks explode in the sky directly over our apartment. We saw several floating lanterns, like in the Tangled movie. I especially liked the fireworks that shot in a horizontal arc to explode seconds later on random rooftops. Our landlady and husband came up with a gift box of  nuts and dried fruit for us. YUM! Even as we reveled in the reckless abandon of our neighbors and people all across the city, we were choking on the smoke, but some things are just worth the consequences. The next morning our floor was lightly covered in dust and I could taste and feel the dust on my teeth. It's a little better today, and I can see the Lotus Temple, our air pollution gauge. We're SO GLAD we got to experience Diwali from our rooftop in Delhi!

I've been forgetting to mention that humidity is down and our days are in the high 80's now with nights in the 60's. It feels lovely.
Word of the day from Scott's English for Indians app: "knee: She kneed to open the door."