Trains, buses and mo-peds. . . A tour of Uttar Pradesh and Orissa,

On Saturday November 28^th I embarked for Northern India in the company of my project mates Karthik and Piyush. After a filling Thanksgiving feast hosted by my friend Joy (Pumpkin pie, Turkey, mashed potatoes and even stuffing!) I met the boys at Chennai Central Station. I am still amazed at no matter the time, India train stations constantly buzz with families, businessmen, and travelers alike. It is not uncommon to see a room full of travelers napping on the hard floor and ten feet to the right a family having their evening feast. At 10pm we boarded the train for the 28 hour journey to Sambalbur, Orissa.

One and a half books later we arrived in Sambalpur. The early morning air was a much chillier than the southern regions. Sambalpur is the headquarters of one of the Microfinance institutes we choose to study, BISWA. The town is the hub of Oriyan textiles and situated next to a wide reaching river. Wandering the streets of Sambalpur I could sense the rarity of my physical attributes. Some people shied away while others eyes seemed magnetically linked.

After getting to know the head office of BISWA we organized a day trip out to one of their rural branches for the following day. The rural village of Fasimal was an hour and a half away by hired car. The District Manager passed the time by detailing the Maoist Terrorist activity in the area. As the car bumped across the windy dirt roads my mind raced through 101 horrifying scenarios. However the branch visit went smoothly though and the countryside was deeply peaceful. The rugged terrain and risks involved are exactly the challenges involved with getting cash into rural villages. The very challenges that our project hopes to alleviate.

Work in Sambalpur wrapped up and an 8 hour overnight bus ride to Bhubaneswar now stands as a runner up of one of the coldest nights of my life! Bhubaneswar was Piyush’s hometown so he gave me guided tour on his sister’s scooter around the town. We visited two Hindu temples and spent time with his neighbors and their children. One evening arriving back at our hotel the concierge informed me we were invited to attend the wedding the hotel was hosting. So with very little encouragement I enjoyed my first Indian wedding. The trees were draped in lights and the ground littered with ice cream cups as the festivities wound down. I even met the bride, despite greeting 600+ guests remained beautiful in her red sari.

After two days in the Bhubaneswar, Piyush and I boarded another train to Varanasi. Varanasi is one of the oldest cities in India dating back to 1400 BC. It is one of the holiest places for Hindus because of the Ganges River. Many pilgrims come to wash away their sins in the Ghats or to cremate loved ones. I however dipped one big toe in as the filth of the river is well known. The whole bank side emits a peaceful vibe as locals and tourists alike stroll and sample roasted peanuts and chai from the vendors.

The city was full of winding corridors that not even a compact car could dream of fitting through. Rickshaws are the most popular mode of transit in the labyrinth like town. At first it was uneasy watching a stick thin man pedal feverishly through the streets but their constant encouragement and pleas for rides eased my guilt. My favorite part of the rides was gazing down at the sacks filled with a rainbow of spices that tempted all my senses. On my last day in town we took a boat ride along the Ghats. Our boatman described the various kings, stories and histories associated with each ghat. Since it was the dry season the water levels revealed a sand strip in the middle of the Ganges. Drum beats and festive music filled the air from various weddings and ceremonies. In the evening I boarded my train out of Varanasi and settled in for my first solo 40 hour train journey. The monotony of train food and passing countryside quickly wore on my amusement. Luckily I discovered I can text internationally so had some company along the way via text!

Half Way December 18^th, 2008

Now I know there are all sorts of statistics on living abroad and the cycles one goes through. I remember a friend Alex describing them to me once in at a pub in Kensington last year. I can not say I ever remember wanting to run screaming from London whereas India has had that affect on me more often than I like to admit. From the bug bites to monsoon floods and incessantly feeling out of place, to say the least it has been a challenge. Now I know I could learn Tamil and Hindi and feel a little more integrated in the local culture. But some things I can not change. Even my roommate Princy still sees me as a foreigner. We were out the other day and she saw a Caucasian and immediately said “Kim, its one of your people!” Statements such as send me into fits of laughter but highlight how I am viewed here.

I think it is quite apparent I am in a valley of the cycle but I reminded myself today of the amazing things I have experienced in India. Whether it is the people I have connected/reconnected with along the way or the different ways of life I have been able to view and participate in. I have a feeling the next half of the internship will go like sand between a clenched fist. Also challenges are part of life and changing your immediate surroundings may change your current challenge, but shortly a new trial will rise up. The best I intend to do is take the challenges with grace and a hope that I learn a little along the way.

Merry Christmas Madras

My Indian Christmas was like nothing I had ever experienced. Christmas eve I attended the South Australian Trade ambassador’s wine and cheese holiday affair. It was the classic holiday Christmas swaree. Wine and finger foods floating the room as old friends and colleague mingled and mused on the stresses of the holiday season. The party surpassed many in my opinion when the Ambassador broke out the karaoke set in his office and engaged the attendees in Hindi favorites. Although the meaning of the lyrics was lost to me the spirit and melody inspired me.

Next on the agenda was the traditional holiday salsa dance. Havana’s a Chennai club brings s Latin vibe to the city on Wednesday nights so we thought what better way to enjoy the holidays than groove out. After a few dance numbers I wrapped the evening up at a bar like many I could imagine in Colorado or London, but the only difference was everyone around me appeared to be coming home to see old friends for the holidays; where as I blatantly stood out as a foreign accessory. The end of the night made up for my nostalgia for the homeland. Monika, an American girl from Rochester, NY, and I climbed on the back of her friend Enron’s motor bike to zip back to my flat. So as Christmas Day rolled out across India there we were three Americans cruising the streets with me pulling up the rear with no less than a Santa Clause hat on my head!

Christmas morning

I awoke at 8am to Monika reminding me of my Skype date with the family. I composed myself, made a fresh cup of coffee and donned my Santa Clause hat to join the family for Christmas Eve. It was as if I was at the table as I gazed around my candle lit dining room as they filled me in on the evening. My father even began to lecture me on the historical significance of Bangalore as I would be visiting the city on Friday. I could not have felt more at home. After a few more calls I retreated to my balcony to take in my sun-drenched Christmas morning complete with palm trees.

After an early afternoon nap I headed over to a friend Stacy’s flat for a Christmas open house. Stacy and her 5 roommates work for International Justice Mission on a volunteer basis. Moments within entering her flat I felt the Christmas spirit. Varieties of cookies covered the counters, stockings hung over a 4ft tree. I was escorted in two the kitchen where two male employees of IJM, Joel and Josh were manning the duties of cookies and dishes. Talk about Christmas miracles. As I chopped and peeled veggies we swapped Indian stories and hometown facts. People slowly started trickling in. Starting with Richard and Jacob two Bengali refugees, who had to flee Bangladesh six months before after being persecuted for their Christian beliefs.

Stacy and her roommates appeared shortly from another colleague’s luncheon. Anna, a New Zealand native working in the legal arm of IJM dissected frozen salami to decide if it was servable. We deemed it was a lost cause and moved on to cubing cheese. The flat quickly filled with Monika, along with Spencer, Weena and Karen (fellow IFMR Truster’s), employees of Sparky’s the local Americana diner and Joseph the neighborhood troubadour.

It was a joyous gathering from there out filled with laughter, debate, and the formation of many new friendships. Then I heard the familiar chords of Christmas carols and Christian songs alike and took to the living room to play the game of who remembers the words. I think the only song Karen, Joseph, Joel and I successfully made it through was Joy to World.

The pinnacle of the evening was the lighting of Martine’s Australian Christmas pudding. Indian brandy was poured over the fruitful dessert and matches blazed along sadly the pudding never caught fire just became saturated in liquor. It was a delicious culmination of the wonderful food spread. As all our stomachs settled we turned on the projector and laughed along with Will Ferrell’s antics in Elf. The evening wound down and we said goodbye to new friends and exchanged numbers. The joy and spirit of Christ filled the room as we parted ways with people who only a few hours ago were perfect strangers but now I would count as my Chennai family.

As if we were not full of pudding, cookies and cheese Spencer, Weena, Karen, Monika and I finished off Christmas with the best pizza in Chennai. High above Nugmumbakkum High Street we feasted at Bella Ciao and wound down the joyful holiday. I arrived home shortly after midnight with high hopes of Skype dates only to find my electricity on cahoots. I stumbled my way around the dark flat and managed a candle and lighter to prepare for my 6am train to Bangalore for a work meeting. Exhausted from my varied, joy-filled, and amazing Christmas abroad I fell asleep to the silhouettes of the palm trees.