Pondicherry

Here begins my novel (three blogs rolled into one)!  We got onto a semi-sleeper bus at midnight in Trichy.  We spent three and a half hours riding to Pondicherry.  A semi-sleeper bus means there are comfortable, cushioned chairs that recline.  It also means that they turn the lights off and make it pretty comfortable.  The only difficulty is that people still do the honking-instead-of-looking thing at 2:00 a.m., so there was not much restful sleep.  We arrived in Pondicherry at 3:30 a.m. and grabbed an auto (taxi) driver.  We showed him the address of the hotel where Jess booked two rooms, and he told us that the place was overpriced for how smelly and cruddy it was.  This dude then took us to a different hotel.  By hotel, I really mean a two-foot-wide alley with stairs that lead to rooms.  Also, the reception room was the home for the family who owns the hotel.  Our auto driver banged on the door to wake them up at 4:00 a.m. and made them give us keys.  We then went upstairs with him where he opened my door for me and showed me the room.  Next, he went to Jess’s room.  Apparently, the key tag was for the wrong room number, so the auto driver sprinted down two flights of stairs then back up again with a different key.  He did this another time or two until we got Jess into a room.  They may want to consider updating their key labels.  If I called this place a hole-in-the-wall, I would mean it quite literally.  There were hundreds of holes in the walls designed to allow air flow through the room because there was no A/C.  This shows you how little you actually need considering I did just fine in the room with only a bed, mini-fridge, shower, and toilet (and holes in the walls, luckily with mosquito coverings).  Unfortunately, the lack of shutters over the windows meant that an Indian family saw me in the nude when I was drying off after my shower (the bathroom was too small of a space to dry off).  Anyways, the auto driver then negotiated a price with the reception family, with us in their living room and them in their PJs, and we settled on 600 rupees per room, which is less than $10!  The auto driver also only charged us 200 rupees after all of the work he did.  Later on, I will describe how pricing and the hospitable nature of the people can be incredible but that it is not consistent. 

We took a nap and then went out for breakfast that morning.  One thing we learned is to pay attention to where you are going when an auto driver takes you to a nicer, cheaper hotel than the one for which you have the address.  We got lost trying to find it, which is super embarrassing considering this hotel was only 300 meters from the beach.  After walking then riding in an auto all over the place trying to find it, we decided to have the driver take us back to the beach.  We backtracked very carefully and found it within minutes.  Stress does not help the mind.  While this was an anxiety-causing way to start the day, I must say cortisol is more effective than caffeine!  After this ordeal, we hit the sites.  We headed over to the Basilica of the Sacred Heart of Jesus.  This was, by far, the most beautiful and decked-out church I have ever seen.  The ground outside was painted in beautiful colors before you even got inside.  We took our shoes off and left them at the gate before we could enter the courtyard.  Check out the pictures to see the wonderful windows, artwork, and sculptures.  After this, we headed on over to the Sri Manakula Vinayagar Temple.  The same auto driver had waited at the basilica and took us to this temple.  We didn’t even really need to tell him where to take us because he is native to Pondicherry and knew all the tourist areas.  Anyways, at the temple, we first saw 30 people outside selling flowers to offer to Ganesh inside.   We bought some to offer, and the next part got more confusing and overwhelming.  Some random dude grabbed ahold of us and took us inside.  He showed us where to offer the flowers where a priest-man marked our foreheads with what was either a tilaka or bindi.  After offering our flowers, we got a smaller flower in return, and we were promised that Ganesh would grant us happy, long lives.  The man then brought us to another stand where another person marked our foreheads.  Lastly, I believe he marked our foreheads.  It happened three times, I know, but it was so jumbled and fast that it is difficult to remember.  We then stood in a center room and looked at a shrine while a man lit candles.  Afterward, the man that grabbed us read our palms then demanded 100 rupees each for all of his services.  It was very loud in there, but I am pretty sure he gave Jess and me the exact same reading.  He told me I was to get married soon, which I am nearly 100% certain is incorrect, considering I was married before I came to India.  At any rate, we walked around inside afterwards and saw hundreds of Ganesh paintings and statues covering alcoves all along the ceiling.  You will see no pictures of the inside because they were forbidden. 

At the next stop, we headed into the Pondicherry Museum, where photos were, again, not allowed.  This place had some great pieces, including some 2,000-year-old, four-foot-tall brass god and goddess pieces and some six-foot-tall, ancient pots.  There were also some super old, French-style rickshaws, horse-carriages, and litters.  A litter is one of those things for a royal person to sit on with a nice comfy pillow on a wooden square that is attached to poles that servants lift onto their shoulders for transport.  The museum had all sorts of other French artifacts that were filled with history. 

After all this, we went to the Sri Aurobindo, AKA The Mother, Ashram.  A small bit of the information in this paragraph is from Wikipedia, but it matches up with all the opinions I formed from the day.  I’ll do this * anytime this occurs.  The Ashram was beautiful in every way.  Pictures were more forbidden than at the temple, and absolute silence was to be kept.  We walked along an amazing path lined with native plants, focusing on rocks and cacti.  At the focal point of this Ashram was a 15-foot long by four-foot wide platform that was arranged with many different types of preserved flowers into a gorgeous display of concentric, weaving, and swooping colors.  The Mother was super into flowers, and it showed at the Ashram she and Sri Aurobindo started together*.  People touched the flowers, pressed their hands into them, grabbed the central metal work, pressed their hands to their foreheads and hearts, knelt down, prayed, and meditated here.  Not being Hindu, but feeling inspired by this place, I did the same and prayed that all religions could find common ground and be at peace with one another.  I bought The Sunlit Path by the Mother, which is full of wonderful messages and ideas.  After this, we headed to Auroville, a town started by Sri Aurobindo and The Mother, the two who started the Ashram in town.  The first thing you do at Auroville is watch an introductory video.  My reaction the whole time was that the idea was super cool, but that it was definitely a cult.  Now, before anyone gets offended, I will say that The Mother actually did study occultism* before meeting Sri Aurobindo and establishing Auroville.  In the video, The Mother called for the renouncing of all religion and for all humanity to join as one in a global community.  She invited all to come visit and even live in Auroville.  It houses up to 50,000 people, only for those who are serious, though.  This video was sprinkled with magical music, pictures of people gathering, the Earth, and star systems and galaxies.  It also mentioned that Auroville is not a tourist destination, but it is probably the number one tourist destination of Pondicherry.  I say this because this is where everyone tells tourists to go, and after entering the front gate, there are restaurants, ice cream stands, bathrooms, all sorts of boutiques, and hammock stands.  I ended up buying a hand-made hammock, in a style I have always seen and wanted in the U.S. at a price I was not willing to pay; this quality product was only $25 here.  Auroville is very beautiful; I am sure it took years to plan.  As we walked to the Matrimandir, the central focus of Auroville, we passed the most wonderful tree in existence, which is actually the geographical center of Auroville.  This tree was ancient, and it covered up to thousands of square feet.  It grew about 15 feet high and then spread horizontally out over a huge space.  All sorts of other trees grew up to merge with it and formed a support system for it.  More than anything else I have seen, pictures do not do this tree justice.  The central focus of Auroville is the Matrimandir, which is the strangest and most beautiful thing I have seen in India.  It took decades to construct.  The entire thing has crazy engineering, and the outside is covered with 1,400 golden discs.  It looks like a golf ball in my photos, but it is stunning.  Inside is a huge glass orb that the residents of Auroville go to concentrate on.  This is the main thing to do for a citizen.  Rather than pray or attend worship ceremonies, you concentrate on a glass orb to develop your higher self.  I SO wish we could have gone to concentrate, but you have to book this a day or more in advance.  Auroville is a sight to be seen for sure; go if you ever have the chance. 

Our driver took us back to our hotel where he only charged us 1,000 rupees for driving us around and waiting on us for about five hours.  Like the first auto driver, this was a great price for the value.  We proceeded to enjoy ourselves in a bar, an art gallery, the beach, then a nice restaurant.  We rested up in our rooms a bit, after which I could not convince Jess to go back out with me!  I headed out, alone, to some ice cream and a walk on the beach.  After this, I heard some wild chanting and drum beats.  I walked until I found it, and it turned out to be worship in what was a shop by day and Hindu shrine by night.  I stood out in the street and watched as two men on a loudspeaker chanted and some boys, ranging in age from four to 25 years, pounded on some drums.  They then turned out all the lights and lit many candles.  Their god ( I am unsure of the name) was candlelit and ominous.  A man came out in the street with a metal bowl burning with fire and threw some things.  Everyone then chanted loudly.  During this, right behind me, two scooters crashed into each other, an ambulance went by, and people were bustling all over the place.  How did they focus on the worship?  After this chant ended, they turned the lights up and started a new chant to a new beat.  A man walked around with the bowl of fire and marked each person’s head with ash.  After being marked, they laid full-body, face-down on the ground in front of the god.  At this point, they invited me in.  I took my shoes off and left them on the street, had my forehead marked, and laid down in front of the god.  I did not do much worshipping, though, because I was self-conscious since I am not practiced at planking spiritually in front of watchful eyes.  After this ceremony ended, there was a community meal where they gave food to anyone walking by.  I declined, since I was not sure of the cleanliness; however, I happily accepted a banana with its germ-prevention peel.  I asked if I could give an offering because of their generosity and welcoming nature, but they declined.  I asked what to do with my banana peel, and they pointed to the storm drain.  They saw I was uncomfortable with littering, with no matter how organic a product, so they found a trashcan for me.  I thanked them and tried to leave, but a seemingly homeless man took my hand to shake it.  He didn’t let go, I kid you not, for 60 seconds.  I had to pry his hand off.  When safely back at the hotel, I took a much-needed shower and went to bed!

The next day, we took breakfast at a French-Indian café.  A crazy lady named Alpa decided to join us since she lives in ths U.S. and heard our non-French accents.  Pondicherry was once a French colony, so most white people there are French.  After India became independent, it became part of India, but there is a lot of French culture still laying around.  Despite the fact that there were other white people, Jess and I were still singled out for picture taking and staring.  Anyways, Alpa invited us to a yoga class taught by a world-renowned yoga teacher.  Alpa was born in India, moved to the U.S., got a degree in yoga therapy, and now visits India for yoga stuff.  It was actually international yoga day while we were there.  You would think this yoga class would have been a yoga class, but it was a yoga lecture in Tamil.  We left soon after arriving, as there was much more to do than sit in a room and listen to something that was incomprehensible!  Jess and I headed to the Sunday market, which was gigantic, being larger than any other we have seen.  After hours of tiring ourselves out and buying things, we went to Paradise Beach, the other large tourist destination in Pondicherry.  The auto driver who took us was kind of a huge jerk.  I was quasi-outraged about paying 500 rupees for a five-minute drive when another guy lugged us around for five hours for only twice the price.  I haggled my heart out, but the man would not budge.  In my frustration, I absent-mindedly left my hammock in his auto and only realized three minutes later.  What a huge letdown, after having hefted it around for the past day and having wanted one for a long time! I had an awful feeling that I only forgot it because I was mad at the auto driver for being rude to me.  After not finding the same auto driver when I ran back to scan the area, I decided to let it go, for I would only drive myself mad to think of it.  There was zero chance that I would find him again with the thousands of autos all over the busy streets of Pondicherry.  Jess and I headed to the paradise beach entrance and boarded a boat that took us to the beach.  I read some of The Mother’s book I had bought and read a passage about desires and happiness.  This was fitting, and I feel as if her insight let me be at peace with myself for making a dumb mistake like leaving something behind.  We got to kayak, sit on the beach, and relax.  It was a good time.  We boarded the boat again toward the main landmass, and I thought it would be nice to listen to some Bob Marley in a boat amongst the palm trees.  I own no music, so I have been craving internet and Pandora this whole time because I miss my Bob station; Pandora is not supported in India.  Before heading to the bus station, I asked one of the auto drivers if there was a lost and found or a taxi station.  He said all auto drivers return to the same place after giving people rides, so I asked to be returned to where the rude man had picked us up.  I feel more in control if I make an effort to right a mistake.  I have trouble letting things go, so I said a little prayer that I would be at peace if this last-stitch effort did not result in me finding my bag, for which there was less than a 1% chance.  An auto driver took us back to the Sunday market and we searched all over; there were thousands of people and autos everywhere.  There was no chance.  We went to the bus station to sit to eat before the bus came.  Jess was out of money and had no debit card, and I was nearly out of money myself.  I had to go to an ATM to withdraw more so I could pay for both of our bus tickets back.  We were pretty ready to get back to Trichy.  On the walk to the ATM, I heard from the crowd “Hey! You’re that guy I drove to Paradise Beach earlier.  I have your bag!”  What crazy circumstances brought that man to me.  I think it was that I said a prayer and let The Mother’s writings flow through me that the man was able to spot me in a crowded, dark bus station, miles away from where he picked us up.  He drove us to an ATM, then to his house, where he stashed the bag with my hammock.  This part was actually super creepy.  He purposefully took me to the ATM first to make sure I had money, and he emphasized that he had put hours of work into finding me.  After the ATM, he told me that my property was my problem and that he had no responsibility in the matter.  He was being just as rude as when he dropped us off at Paradise Beach! He told us he had taken it to the office, which I assumed was an auto station.  No chance.  He stopped on a pitch dark road with no street lights and left the auto.  I got my knife out because this was just too good an opportunity to rob these rich, dumb tourists who forgot their “expensive” (for an auto driver) hammock in the auto and who had just went to the ATM.  The man came back out with my hammock! I hid the knife because that would have been real awkward.  But, before giving it to me, he demanded 1,000 rupees.  It seemed like this was a give-me-1,000-rupees-or-I-won’t-drive-you-away-from-this-dark-street moment.  I paid the man; what else was there to do?  As soon as he had the money, we started driving to the bus station, and the man started singing “Get Up, Stand Up” by Bob Marley.  I felt like God was laughing at me. After we had payed him, he turned into the nicest, happy-go-lucky driver.  This is what I mean when some people are hospitable and others are only happy after getting money from you.  

When we got on the bus headed for Trichy, I ended up sitting next to an Indian man.  He had been at the Sunday market for 12 hours selling pendants that he makes.  He was such a nice guy.  We swapped stories for hours.  When we stopped at a restaurant (the drive was five hours), the man got out and helped me find the bathroom and made sure I got back on the bus without it leaving me.  He told me he has even travelled to other countries to sell these pendants he makes.  The dude was born in a village and he speaks five languages and has visited two other countries.  What an amazing man.  I bought a pendant from him; how could I not?  He then gave me two free necklaces for my wife. What an adorable man!  At this time, though, I just felt so terrible.  A potentially homeless woman got on the bus at the restaurant and paid her fare in single rupee coins.  I think the guard took pity on her and cut her a break on the price.  She was staring at my water bottle, presumably because she can never afford clean water.  I wanted to give her some, but I did not know if it was safe to do so.  She was mumbling to herself the whole way, so I did not know her mental stability.  How awful it must have been for her to see me spend what could have been around four meals for her on a pendant.  On the other side, though, if I gave money to every homeless person and beggar who stared at and asked me for money, I would be broke by now. 

We arrived in Trichy at 3:00 a.m., and I got into bed at 4:00 a.m.  I then got up three hours later for breakfast and to go to Kauvery Hospital to resume my observations.  By now, I am exhausted! The only thing I will mention about Kauvery today is that each day firmly secures in me the belief that hospital work is not for me.  It is very necessary but too monotonous and sad.  I see the dietitian do the same thing each day, with only the occasional interesting case.  I am sure she has seen all of it before.  The two courses I see myself taking are either to become a Registered Dietitian who works at a location other than a hospital (food science, weight loss counseling, or the USDA) or as a researcher.  The saddest thing I have seen happened today.  A child I saw just last Friday, in critical but stable condition, worsened drastically over the weekend.  He has nephrotic syndrome, but he was lying in his bed looking healthy two days ago.  He was eating a normal diet, and looked so cute and happy when he saw his parents.  Today, he was on a respirator and could do no breathing on his own.  He was under incubation and a tube feeding, and he could barely focus his eyes.  He couldn’t even look at his mom and dad.  He looked like a mummy wrapped up in the sheets with tubes coming out of his mouth and nose.  The child next to him looked even worse.  He did not even look like he was alive.  Still in my memory I see a doll and not a child.  I cannot imagine either child is anything but totally alone and miserable.  I could barely stand it; I almost started crying.  Next to these children the nurses and dietitian were conversing and occasionally laughing.  I never want to be able to say that I am used to that or that I can tune it out.  I was so glad to leave the PICU. 

This evening I toured the mess hall and kitchens at BHC.  What a difference from Appstate’s dining services!  I will describe it using pictures.  The only thing to mention that I did not photograph was that when one of the lower-level chefs shook my hand, a huge cockroach crawled across his chest.  This made me shudder internally, but I didn’t show it.  I mean, considering the kitchens are largely open to the outdoors, it shouldn’t surprise me.  Besides that little experience, the kitchens are really cool here.  They are just so different from what I have seen before because they are cooking in what seems to be a very traditional way making very different foods.  Their steamers are powered by fire.  They have a full-time fire stoker and a huge pile of wood out back.  This is just so cool.  I will now wrap this up; I am tired!