In review

I figured that I might as well as recap for you my life of the past week or so.

July 15th, 2006- Kim and I travel back from Kovalam to Rajakadd. This trip entails a 30 minute rickshaw ride, a 4 hour train ride and a five hour bus ride up the mountain. In all this is a 220 km trip, or about 136 miles for those of pondering the speed of Indian travel. As you should all remember from my last post at this time I am also high point of my affliction of unidentifiable spots. When we board the train we book the general class seats since it’s a “short” trip. Mistakenly we think that there is no general class car and only reserved seating, where we find a comfortable place for the first two hours. Then the conductor comes and herds us to the rear of the train, with all the other class jumpers to the two general cars. Here we are lucky because the Nationals got charged the fine, and we we’re let go on our ignorance. The general car, or two cars are obviously the most cramped, filled with daily commuters and luggage. The only space we can find is a crawl up space, mostly used for luggage, but when the train becomes full people cram in then as well. Well, mostly men, but in our quest for seating this was certainly the best option. So traveling in true Indian style we arrive…4 hours later.

We have a little lunch and by this time it is about 3 in the afternoon and we need to catch the bus up to Rajakadd. Kim and I have traveled down by bus a few times, but this is our first attempt at trying to go up. At one bus stand in one town, there was a sign that posted bus destinations and times. At three towns there is a “bus conductor” of sorts. Yet of course, Enarkalum is not one of those towns. So to figure out how to take the bus you have to first figure out where the bust stand is. The bus stands I have been to comes in two formats: 3-4 blocks where the buses pull up at the curb or a huge dusty parking lot with a ton of buses. Once you figure out where the bus station is, the real game is to figure out what and when the bus that you need to be on. Since this bus system works without fail (and very punctual l might add) for 1 billion Indians a day, I have no room to complain. Figuring out which bus then means that you have to rely on the kindness of strangers to take pity on you, and be able to understand what city you’re trying to say. It involves wandering around the huge lots, and/or city streets stating your destination over and over again, and following the directions of hand points with the small hope that by the grace of God you will figure out your bus. Of course this process is also facilitated by carrying too much luggage.

On this trip a bus stand was right next to the train station, so we immediately felt our good fortune, because we recognized it was getting late if we’re to make it up today. At this bus stop, which we’ll call Point 1, we we’re directed to the end where some kindly people took us in, and asked me to use English, informed us that we needed to me at the High Court Bus Stand and put us on a bus across town. High Court Bus Stand is very large and consists of both the road pick up points and the parking lot. We got of at the road side, and after some time were told to go to parking lot side. At the parking lot side, after wandering around shouting and asking the various drivers, “Rajakadd?”, we we’re informed that we needed to be a the Kuchinany bus stand and placed on a bus that took as past Point 1, to this much, much smaller bus stop, at which maybe or may there was a bus, but since no one showed any kindness towards us, we we’re forced to ask each and every bus that pulled up the destination, since we don’t read Mayalamam. (Which is interesting in itself, considering that in our remote are, where barely a percentage of the population speaks English, the buses are marked in English, but here a major metro area with many English speakers they’re not, but that’s a point to ponder another time.) Anyway after about 30 minutes a kindly man took pity on us and informed us that we should get on this bus to go a different bus stand that would get us on a bus home. So we got on the bus, went past Point 1 and ended up in the lot at the High Court Bus Stand. Frustrated, we finally figured out that we had to go to the road side.

The other complication, is that no matter what way we pronounce Rajakadd, no one seems to understand us. So all though the buses in the region, almost all travel from Rajakadd to Enarkalum, we had to give us trying to find a bus going directly to Rajakadd because apparently we are often incomprehensible, and instead have to ask for a larger city near on the way to Rajakadd, called Adimaly. Since at this point, even switching our destination to Adimaly seemed like it wasn’t going to work, we wrote on a piece of paper where we trying to go. Then, like a beacon, at the last minute the bus to Adimaly pulled up and we were on our way home.

When we arrived in Adimaly it was dark, cold and pouring sheets of rain. When we pulled in, the bus conductor on our bus pointed out the bus to Munnar and I didn’t correct him because of course to him that’s the logical place I should be going. Kim and I gathered our things and headed out in the down pour to circle the buses for the bus to Rajakadd. Imagine our surprise when we directed back on the bus we just got off, just a tad more wet. Imagine more, the conductors surprise when he got on and found us back in original seats. Anyway, the good thing is that the bus from Adimaly goes right past our front door, so we almost got door to door service.

July 21st The week in Rajakadd passed as normal and my spots had also cleared up. Everyone was happy to have us back. On the day before we had gone back to Adimaly (which is only 1 ½ hours) to use the internet for some research on the grants we are writing, and Kim had left her flash drive there. On this particular Friday, we were supposed to head to the office, so while Kim headed off to get her flash drive I went off to work.

When we first arrived, before the rains, we had taken a path that cuts through the rice paddy fields and along a creek side. This short cut saves about 1-2 km of the walk, but since the rains and the high water and mud we have avoided the path, mostly taking rickshaws to the office and walking the long way home. Well, on this morning it was bright and sunny and warm. It hadn’t rained in 24 hours, and as it turns out Kim is the more intelligent of the two of us. I decided to give the short cut a try and headed off. The first half was fine, the path was dry and wide. About halfway through I ran into a man we know, out in the rice paddy with an electric tiller. I was surprised to see this man here because Kim and I have been pondering what his role is. We remember his as being a jeep driver for us at one point, then he showed up at a the workshop for NGO workers we held, then one day he showed up with the landlord in our house to measure the floors, and now he was in the middle of the rice paddy. He’s a nice man and speaks a little English so we said our greetings and our headed on my way.

Then I came to the little place where you need to cross the stream by balancing maybe one or two steps on the little log. Well, my sandals were muddy. You all can guess what happened. I fell right off that log and wound up thigh deep in the creak. Embarrassed, I climbed out the bank which was about chest level and quickly stood to my feet, and turned around to see if he’d seen me, which of course he had. Indignant, I was not a weakling who could not handle a simple walk through the rice paddies, I put my head up high and walked on. Well, I was wet and muddy and the little muddy walk area between the paddies got less and less and less until at one point I slipped off a little again and broke my sandal. At least this time no one say me though. I removed my sandals, laughed out loud to myself the entire way and made it out, where I was able to fix my sandal, make to work on time and arrived dry but filthy. My little adventure provided much needed delight to the office staff.

That night was going to be a special night for Kim and I. My mother (Thanks Mom!!) had sent Kim and I two movies, and tonight we were going to make a special dinner, some popcorn we’d found in Adimaly and watch one of the movies. Kim made a delicious meal, and we watched the movie. Later that night, I tossed and turned in my bed feeling nauseous. About 4 in the morning I woke up and headed to the bathroom, where I felt maybe I’d feel a little better. The next thing I knew I woke up on the floor covered in my own vomit and drenched in sweat. I crawled up in a panic and began to get out of the bathroom to begin what is now my first adventure with food poisoning. Kim helped me back to bed, where I laid with the bucket. About an hour later, Kim came down as well, but without the vomiting, but the other unpleasantries. It was too bad for her, but better that it was both of us because at least we were assured of the cause. With in an hour I had felt better, but both Kim and I both had come down with a slight fever and spent the entire day in bed.

July 22nd Around 7 that night, the neighbor stopped by to see if we would be up for a visit from the Doctor of whom had been by last week for social reasons. I explained to the neighbor that we were sick and wouldn’t be able to take any callers that night. This caused among our neighbors great concern. At this point Kim and I were mostly feel tired and weak from lack of food and the like, but knew that at this point we would probably be fine by morning. The neighbors offered us the doctor, tea, food and we declined preferring to crawl back in bed instead.

Well, about 9 that night, it seems that the neighbor women had conferred and overrode our decision. The four neighbors knocked on the door with tea and informed us that they had called our boss from the office who was on the way. So there Kim and I sat, uncombed hair, sweat ridden pajamas, sitting on the floor on the living room which only consists of one desk and two plastic lawn chairs anyway, just wanting to crawl into bed or at least lay down, knowing that it was too late to protest. Ten minutes later, our boss showed up, with a co-worker and the driver. He insisted that the doctor come now, to which we didn’t bother to protest. By this time the crowd at the door had grown to include the children, another driver, and the bus stand guy from town who it turns out is also our neighbor and his wife. Kim and I weakly sat smiling and trying to make pleasantries while they discussed how much vomiting and loose motions has been passed.

The doctor came, gave us a couple of pills to ease the fever and at long last the Saturday night excitement was over and everyone wandered home. Kim and I woke up Sunday feeling like our old selves. We’ve decided that this is the most care and concern we’ve gotten while sick since our mothers homes, and that truthfully despite the comedy and hassle of it all, it felt a little good. What would of made it little better though was the old comfort food of dry toast, 7 up and jello. Of course we’ve now learned to Indian versions of plain rice in water, mango pickle and hot tea.