Communicating In India

PINK PALACE IN JAIPUR

Yesterday I went to Citi bank and was able to get enough money to tide me over. So there is no  longer any reason for me to feel stressed.  It was a communication mistake somewhere, that's all.

Remember I told you about using an internet fast key in Rome? Well, it didn't work very well, especially after the first week. I have been here in India for two weeks, and the data key, as it is called here, works like a charm. Even in my room which has no window to the outside world.

The problem is you need to know someone to attain such a key. Here unlike in Europe you cannot just go to the store and buy a telephone or a data key. You need to go through a whole series of background checks, and you need to live here. Some people borrow a friend's cell and data key and  pay the usage.  If you are here on business, of course, your office will give you whatever you need. Not so for the tourist.
  
You can bring your own phone and your own data key, but that is pretty expensive, whether it is from the states or from Europe. It would cost me $2/minute to use my phone here. I have a vonage number, and I have used that. But the reception is not as good as I would like.

There are computer places you can go to and get on line.There you must show a pass, and the owner takes down all of your information. Where you are staying, the address and telephone. This is understandable, because of the fear of terrorism. I am not against it, I actually agree with it, but it makes your life a bit harder to tour or live here.

Be sure to consider these problems before you come. If you are touring and it doesn't matter whether  you have a cell phone, that is great. You can go to the computer place and keep in touch online. But if you are coming on business, be sure the funds are there to cover your phone expenses.

It seems strange to me now that I think back. When we first came here there were no faxes, no cell phones, no computers or internet. The telephones never worked and messages had to be sent with the driver in order to communicate in Delhi itself. We waited for a letter in the post with great anticipation, in order to know how our family and friends were. It doesn't seem possible that we were so disconnected. Now if I don't call my husband everyday, he is upset. At that time, if I went out of station, he might not hear from me at all for weeks. How small the world has become.

THE SACRED AND THE SACRED WANNA BE

 HINDU GODS FOR SALE AT DIVALI

India is a very religious country. I have often been bewildered by  the intensity of their beliefs. Even the well-educated follow holy men. I don't mean to say that educated people can't be religious, but it is the intensity of the following that amazes me.

When we lived here in the 1970s, I used to joke that if I wore a blue sari and rode a donkey from Delhi to Agra, I would have a large following and be considered a goddess by the time I reached my destination. That is not so far from the truth.

One year in the early seventies a professor of philosophy spent a year in India teaching at the university and to groups outside the university. Some friends asked if he would give them a photo of himself and, being flattered, of course, said yes. A few years later, when he returned, he found that he was being worshipped and his lectures were now booklets to read when his followers needed guidance. Admittedly he was shocked.

William Dalrymple relates in his new book Nine Lives that outside Jodhpur a man was killed in a mortorcycle accident and an Enfield Bullet Motorcycle was placed as a memorial to him at the site. Since then the cycle has become a shrine, and pilgrimages of truck drivers from all over Rajasthan come to this site looking for miracles. Many claim to have increased their fertility after the pilgrimage.

During our stay here, Dick became sick with yellow jaundice and spent many weeks in bed. After the illness, I went on a five week vacation to Europe to see friends.When I returned I found small photos of me cut out in different parts of the house with rice and oil and a candle in front of the pictures. I knew they wanted me to return, because Dick could be difficult and I ran interference. But-- frankly-- finding these sites unnerved me.

Rejected

I don't how many of you remember Joe in Lil Abner, who always had a black cloud that followed him. That is how I feel today. I'm beginning to think I should hide out in my bedroom that has no windows. Actually  I am just feeling sorry for myself.

I went to the ATM and my card was rejected. Now I suppose you think I forgot to leave enough money in the account, but no. I went back to Mohini'to look on the internet and sure enough more than $5000 in the account. So I sent a ripper of an email to the bank. But Dick is in Madison and will take care of this. I hope so anyway.

The thing is my head went into fourth gear. How would I take care of this, who would I pick to save me this time.  Yes, things like this have happened before. But then it was caused by my own stupidity like ripping up the wrong airline ticket. But not this time. I had enough money in the bank and I told the bank that I would be in India during this time. So I don't know what their problem is. Anyway, I'm sure everything will turn out well.

 Well it is a few hours later and I called the bank. There are no holds on my card. So the problem is on this end.  I don't know what that means, but I will be off tomorrow to try a number of ATMs in the city. If it doesn't work I have figured out an alternative or two. So I'm not too worried.

Out on the town

Today I called the driver and with his taxi went shopping. You know when you have a list in the west, it is not uncommon to finish the list before the day is over. Not here. If one thing on the list is completed you can feel you've had a successful day. Well, nothing today on the list was completed. But I did buy some presents for my grandchildren.

I went to buy a doll for Mohini. She wanted to give it to her electrician, who has had a baby girl and is so excited. But do you think I could find a hand-made doll, a rag doll, or any such thing. No!! Only dolls you put on the shelf and look at. I think Indian children play with dolls just like any other children, but there were none I would consider acceptable. So I have to go again tomorrow, because I refuse to be defeated.

I wanted to get presents for the young women in my family. I have 3 daughters-in-law, 1 ex daughter-in-law, who is nevertheless cared about, and a daughter. Only one of them does not like jewelery and prefers money, so that's fine. One should give what is desired, right? The jeweler, I have known for more than 20 years, had moved and when I finally found  him, he wasn't in the shop.

You can't just go into any jeweler and buy jewelery. Here you have to establish a relationship with the jeweler so he doesn't want to cheat you. I could never buy from his son, daughter or anyone else in the shop. I don't know them and I don't trust anyone in India I don't know well. That's the way Indians do things and when in India do as they do.

So I bought some cute little outfits for my two youngest grandchildren who are going on two.

This is Rina, with her dark hair and brown eyes. She is quiet and contemplative.

This is Chiara, who is three months younger. She is anything but quiet, and like  her father crawls up, over and into everything. She has brown eyes as well, but her hair gets blonder every month.
As Wisconsinites, we are all Packer's fans, we who watch football.

For Rina I bought a light green outfit. She is dark and this would make a lovely contrast.

This is the detail embroidered on the front.

This is the detail around the neck.  Also embroidered.

This is Chiara's outfit, to go with her light hair.

This is the detail on Chiara's outfit.

The detail on the neck.

Than I bought an elephant and a horse they could play with.

These were all bought at the Cottage Industries on Janpath.  This is a store where you can depend on quality, and is frequented by those interested in crafts. These crafts will be dying as the country progresses. Sad, but inevitable.

Food into Eternity

I have to write this, because it is shocking.  Well maybe shocking is an exaggeration. But I am always overwhelmed by the amount of times one eats in India.

We start at 6:30am with coffee and two little cookies to prepare our stomachs for our medicine or our vitamins. Then at 8am comes breakfast, with toast, egg, cornflakes and fruit. At 10:30am coffee or  tea with milk and/or sugar are served and something to snack on. At 1pm lunch is  served, which includes 2 vegetables, dal, rice, chappatis and yogurt. At 3pm again coffee or tea and maybe a little snack. At 6pm, a drink, snacks or a bowl of soup and pappadam. At 8pm is the big meal. Dinner is served, which includes 3 vegetables, dal, rice, chappatis and yogurt and a sweet afterwards. I am never hungry when it's time to eat and I'm sure I am blowing up like a balloon. When I decline the tea or a snack, I am asked, "Aren't you well?" "Don't you like the food?" I'm terrified of going into a sugar coma at any moment.

When I return home, I will wait until I feel the pangs of hunger before I eat. Ah, one never realizes how good that can feel.