Here is a clip of the kids at Rourkela dancing away a hot afternoon. Every time I watch this video, I become much more relaxed. Plus, since I was filming, I didn't have to dance! I suspect that is a big motivation for a lot of the photographers out there.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Monday, August 25, 2008
The Miracle Foundation Blog Phase 2
Sorry for the delay in posting. Jet lag kicked my butt last week and I only recovered after about four days.
So, I've done my best to document our most recent IMPACT travel trip to India and I still have lots more to post here from that trip. I wanted to post this note to let you know that the blog is going to be active hopefully everyday from now but I know that won't always be the case.
We plan on giving you updates on what's going on around the office, making announcements and filling you in on events in and outside of Austin, TX. It will be ever-evolving around here and hopefully interesting.
Thanks for reading!
So, I've done my best to document our most recent IMPACT travel trip to India and I still have lots more to post here from that trip. I wanted to post this note to let you know that the blog is going to be active hopefully everyday from now but I know that won't always be the case.
We plan on giving you updates on what's going on around the office, making announcements and filling you in on events in and outside of Austin, TX. It will be ever-evolving around here and hopefully interesting.
Thanks for reading!
Monday, August 18, 2008
An Afternoon At Bhawani
Another time lapse for you this evening. I slowed this one down but I'm still not satisfied with the quality. This was shot over three hours last week, with one picture taken every ten seconds.
If you sponsor a child at Bhawani, look close and you may catch your kid posing for the camera.
If you sponsor a child at Bhawani, look close and you may catch your kid posing for the camera.
Beijing v. India
Major generalizations follow...
I'm sitting here watching NBC's coverage of the Olympics and they're following a group of University of Iowa Olympic volunteers around. The camera crew followed one student who enjoys going off the beaten path and checking out the neighborhoods and side streets of Beijing.
The NBC reporter, in the usual somber voice-over tone, describes these Chinese that live in poverty (her word, not mine). I watched the clip with a decidedly different perspective:
Woh! Are those concrete gutters in that clip? And concrete sidewalks? That's high living. In fact, I don't think I saw a sidewalk during my entire trip in India. There must be some sort of cooperation and organization in that Beijing neighborhood beyond anything Indians are capable of.
Where is the open sewage?
Why aren't people honking at every single man, woman, child, cow, goat, dog and car on the road?
No diseased villagers or rail thin children literally hanging on your legs? I laugh at you Beijing.
Why aren't cars passing each other in the oncoming lane? Things run so much faster that way I've found out. Why wait for the rickshaw in front of you to get over 10 MPH when you can play chicken with a 4,000 LB truck?
You get stared and smiled at Iowa students? Your tourist stares aren't met with even deeper, more intense stares right back at you making almost every public movement uncomfortable?
Of course, China has parts of it that most certainly rival Indian poverty. But, after seeing what I saw over the last two weeks, I found NBC's interpretation of poverty in Beijing to be quite laughable.
I'm sitting here watching NBC's coverage of the Olympics and they're following a group of University of Iowa Olympic volunteers around. The camera crew followed one student who enjoys going off the beaten path and checking out the neighborhoods and side streets of Beijing.
The NBC reporter, in the usual somber voice-over tone, describes these Chinese that live in poverty (her word, not mine). I watched the clip with a decidedly different perspective:
Woh! Are those concrete gutters in that clip? And concrete sidewalks? That's high living. In fact, I don't think I saw a sidewalk during my entire trip in India. There must be some sort of cooperation and organization in that Beijing neighborhood beyond anything Indians are capable of.
Where is the open sewage?
Why aren't people honking at every single man, woman, child, cow, goat, dog and car on the road?
No diseased villagers or rail thin children literally hanging on your legs? I laugh at you Beijing.
Why aren't cars passing each other in the oncoming lane? Things run so much faster that way I've found out. Why wait for the rickshaw in front of you to get over 10 MPH when you can play chicken with a 4,000 LB truck?
You get stared and smiled at Iowa students? Your tourist stares aren't met with even deeper, more intense stares right back at you making almost every public movement uncomfortable?
Of course, China has parts of it that most certainly rival Indian poverty. But, after seeing what I saw over the last two weeks, I found NBC's interpretation of poverty in Beijing to be quite laughable.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
The Kids Love the Camera
Here is what happens when you set up a laptop at the Bhawani orphanage and record a picture every 60 seconds for about 45 minutes. The kids had just gotten done taking a dip in an antibacterial bath so they were busy combing their hair by looking at the video of themselves on the laptop.
I'm still experimenting with the video (slowing it down for one) and the next trip should yield even better clips.
I'm still experimenting with the video (slowing it down for one) and the next trip should yield even better clips.
Breaking Ground on the New Bhawani Orphanage
Here is a shot of Mukesh breaking ground on the new building, which is behind the old Bhawani orphanage. The new home will house 150 children and be completed in about a year. You can see a bit of me on the right with the video camera.
Funny story about that. I was filming the priest (You can see him in the white on the left side) blessing the grounds when I realized that directly behind him, right where I was filming, a young boy's zipper was down and you could see straight into his pants. I had strained my arm for at least 20 minutes getting that blessing recorded.
So much for uploading that ground breaking ceremony video to the web site.
On My Way Home
It's Saturday at 8 AM and I'm currently at London-Heathrow airport. I've been traveling since 7 AMish Friday morning, when we took the first rail ride from JSG, Orissa, India to Ranchi, Jharkand, India.
After a short weather delay, we made our way to Delhi and I got on a British Airways flight at 2:10 AM. I somehow managed to sleep for the first eight hours of the trip and woke up with just over an hour left on the flight. I started Primary Colors on my headset television, ate a vegetarian breakfast and we landed in London.
London-Heathrow is by far the busiest airport I've been to on this trip. There is a ton of activity going on and I can actually understand most of the language being spoken. That hasn't happened in about two weeks. I couldn't even tell what language my fellow travelers the American college girls were speaking half the time. Can I feel that old at age 25?
From London, it's a ten hour flight to Dallas and then a short hop to Austin. After waking up at 4:30 AM India time on Friday, I will get back into Austin just after 6 PM on Saturday.
I'm a bit tired and needing a shower. Since people watching in the airport is what I'll be doing for the rest of this trip, I'm a bit angry I had to leave the country with the most beautiful women in the world to come to, ahem, London. Let's just say they're...uhhh...different looking here than Indian women.
Maybe it's the high beer intake here in England?
After a short weather delay, we made our way to Delhi and I got on a British Airways flight at 2:10 AM. I somehow managed to sleep for the first eight hours of the trip and woke up with just over an hour left on the flight. I started Primary Colors on my headset television, ate a vegetarian breakfast and we landed in London.
London-Heathrow is by far the busiest airport I've been to on this trip. There is a ton of activity going on and I can actually understand most of the language being spoken. That hasn't happened in about two weeks. I couldn't even tell what language my fellow travelers the American college girls were speaking half the time. Can I feel that old at age 25?
From London, it's a ten hour flight to Dallas and then a short hop to Austin. After waking up at 4:30 AM India time on Friday, I will get back into Austin just after 6 PM on Saturday.
I'm a bit tired and needing a shower. Since people watching in the airport is what I'll be doing for the rest of this trip, I'm a bit angry I had to leave the country with the most beautiful women in the world to come to, ahem, London. Let's just say they're...uhhh...different looking here than Indian women.
Maybe it's the high beer intake here in England?
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Random Observations about My Trip
It’s not fair to generalize all of India based on the few states I’ve been to but for the purposes of this post, that’s what I’m going to do.
I have not seen a bathtub so far. Every bathroom has just a shower head with a slightly slanted bathroom floor leading to a drain. I’ve been showering directly next to my toilet.
The under estimating of time, or “Indian time”, definitely exists. When we traveled to a village outside of the Bhawani orphanage, the locals and our drivers said it was 20 minutes away. It ended up being an hour and a half away. This happens quite constantly.
Sometimes, it ends up just being chance if you get what you want when you order food. You can say exactly what you want, your waiter or room service hotel staff guy can look you in the face and say, “Yes” but you still may end up getting tomato soup with French fries in it.
I’m currently on the fourth floor of the Hotel Yogendra and at the end of the hall, there is a balcony overlooking the street. The hotel staff will dry laundry out there and sleep out there. I just looked down the hall and I can see two guys sleeping on cardboard on that balcony.
We get stared at all the time. I have not seen another Westerner in a long, long time. We’ve run across a few Europeans but that’s about it.
The man who works at the liquor store down the road may be the most articulate Indian on the street of JSG.
Including the bathroom, I have 22 switches in my room for the lights, fans and outlets. Also, at this particular hotel, my room key is a skeleton key with a plastic rectangle attached to it. When you get into the room, you put the rectangle into a slot by the door and that’s allows the power to run. Not a bad idea to conserve power if you ask me, because guests have to take their key to lock the door.
Many of the trash cans on the street and in our rooms say “Use me” on them and the trash cans at Sooch Village say they are “100% virgin plastic” and have pictures of Sumo wrestlers on them.
Speaking of plastic, Rourkela is a big steel town and I caught the local steel television channel while we were there. It was a public access type format but at the bottom of the screen it said, “Say no to plastics.” The steel industry here really despises plastics apparently.
It's common for men to walk around with their arms around other men. It's an expression of friendship here.
While driving to the Bhawani orphanage, there were a couple of interesting road signs telling people to drive slow – “If you are married, divource the speed” and “Speed thrills but kills”.
Since it’s monsoon season, rain is constantly threatening here and it rains at least a couple of times a day. Sometimes it rains just a touch and other times, like now at 6 AM on Thursday, it’s absolutely soaking this already drenched city of JSG.
The kids at our orphanages are by far the most well behaved children I have ever seen. It’s not even a contest between America and the orphanages. One mention by a house mother to get into the classroom or to eat and those kids are immediately on it. It’s amazing. I had my computer on a table for three hours shooting a time lapse video and even though there were dozens of children within inches of the computer, not a single one ever touched it. For whatever reason, none of the kids ever gets so excited that he or she won’t listen to the house mothers. Ha, try to imagine that in America. I have yet to see a temper tantrum here. I’m not saying they don’t happen. I just haven’t seen one.
The kids also love, love digital cameras. You can find the one kid in the orphanage who won’t smile for anything and show him or her his picture and they’ll crack a smile.
All of the men are called Uncle and the women are called Auntie. “Good morning Uncle!” they’ll say to me. I still love it even after the thousandth time.
The vast majority of men wear either long sleeved button up shirts or collered polo type shits. T-shirts are very few and far between. The contrast between the men and women’s dress is amazing. The women wear fantastically bright colors and the men generally wear rather drab, dull colors compared to the women.
The mustache has not gone out of style in India.
Peeing on the side of the road is very common. And it’s not behind a tree or anything. You just go.
The journey home starts this morning. There will be so much more to come once I get back to America.
And a gecko just jumped on the curtain in my hotel room. I forgot to mention that geckos are everywhere here.
I have not seen a bathtub so far. Every bathroom has just a shower head with a slightly slanted bathroom floor leading to a drain. I’ve been showering directly next to my toilet.
The under estimating of time, or “Indian time”, definitely exists. When we traveled to a village outside of the Bhawani orphanage, the locals and our drivers said it was 20 minutes away. It ended up being an hour and a half away. This happens quite constantly.
Sometimes, it ends up just being chance if you get what you want when you order food. You can say exactly what you want, your waiter or room service hotel staff guy can look you in the face and say, “Yes” but you still may end up getting tomato soup with French fries in it.
I’m currently on the fourth floor of the Hotel Yogendra and at the end of the hall, there is a balcony overlooking the street. The hotel staff will dry laundry out there and sleep out there. I just looked down the hall and I can see two guys sleeping on cardboard on that balcony.
We get stared at all the time. I have not seen another Westerner in a long, long time. We’ve run across a few Europeans but that’s about it.
The man who works at the liquor store down the road may be the most articulate Indian on the street of JSG.
Including the bathroom, I have 22 switches in my room for the lights, fans and outlets. Also, at this particular hotel, my room key is a skeleton key with a plastic rectangle attached to it. When you get into the room, you put the rectangle into a slot by the door and that’s allows the power to run. Not a bad idea to conserve power if you ask me, because guests have to take their key to lock the door.
Many of the trash cans on the street and in our rooms say “Use me” on them and the trash cans at Sooch Village say they are “100% virgin plastic” and have pictures of Sumo wrestlers on them.
Speaking of plastic, Rourkela is a big steel town and I caught the local steel television channel while we were there. It was a public access type format but at the bottom of the screen it said, “Say no to plastics.” The steel industry here really despises plastics apparently.
It's common for men to walk around with their arms around other men. It's an expression of friendship here.
While driving to the Bhawani orphanage, there were a couple of interesting road signs telling people to drive slow – “If you are married, divource the speed” and “Speed thrills but kills”.
Since it’s monsoon season, rain is constantly threatening here and it rains at least a couple of times a day. Sometimes it rains just a touch and other times, like now at 6 AM on Thursday, it’s absolutely soaking this already drenched city of JSG.
The kids at our orphanages are by far the most well behaved children I have ever seen. It’s not even a contest between America and the orphanages. One mention by a house mother to get into the classroom or to eat and those kids are immediately on it. It’s amazing. I had my computer on a table for three hours shooting a time lapse video and even though there were dozens of children within inches of the computer, not a single one ever touched it. For whatever reason, none of the kids ever gets so excited that he or she won’t listen to the house mothers. Ha, try to imagine that in America. I have yet to see a temper tantrum here. I’m not saying they don’t happen. I just haven’t seen one.
The kids also love, love digital cameras. You can find the one kid in the orphanage who won’t smile for anything and show him or her his picture and they’ll crack a smile.
All of the men are called Uncle and the women are called Auntie. “Good morning Uncle!” they’ll say to me. I still love it even after the thousandth time.
The vast majority of men wear either long sleeved button up shirts or collered polo type shits. T-shirts are very few and far between. The contrast between the men and women’s dress is amazing. The women wear fantastically bright colors and the men generally wear rather drab, dull colors compared to the women.
The mustache has not gone out of style in India.
Peeing on the side of the road is very common. And it’s not behind a tree or anything. You just go.
The journey home starts this morning. There will be so much more to come once I get back to America.
And a gecko just jumped on the curtain in my hotel room. I forgot to mention that geckos are everywhere here.
I Finally Cracked
Tonight, Thursday the 14th, we left the Bhawani orphanage after spending three days there.
Up until tonight, I was able to rationalize the conditions I’d seen in India with a very cold, logical sense of reason. This is the way it’s always been here, I would tell myself. I’m just another privileged white guy coming to the third world and doing my best to help out for two weeks. How cliché is that?
Tonight, all that changed.
I didn’t let myself go too much because I didn’t want to appear to be culturally arrogant. Sure, if you compare almost any other country to America, especially the orphanage conditions here, you’re going to be mad about what you see. Why isn’t this that way, you keep telling yourself.
I let go of my cold sense of reason and could not help but feel something beyond what my rational mind would allow. I felt something that was strictly a human connection. Something that extended beyond any previous notions or limits my mind had set before. Something beyond, “This is India, deal with it.”
I walked out of dinner tonight at the Bhawani orphanage and strolled down the main hall. As I walked, I passed the classrooms/bedrooms on my right. I came up on a three-year-old child, leaning against the door of his communal room, with tears in his eyes. The look on his face didn’t express sadness over us, the ambassadors, leaving – he hadn’t smiled all trip – but it spoke to something much deeper. He missed his mother. It was an undeniable human emotion I could sense.
Other children had cried over us leaving but this was different. This wasn’t about us.
I walked up to him and tried to cheer him up. Nothing. No reaction. He looked at me and then his eyes went back to that long stare you’ll sometimes see in the kids hurting the most.
He was hurting so bad. He missed his mother. He missed something that he knew he couldn’t have right then. Or possibly ever again.
I immediately grabbed my computer and ran back to him to show him the digital pictures that the Indian kids loved so much. Surely, this would cheer him up.
Nope. Nothing. This kid was too sad to be cheered up.
Unfortunately, the time this was happening was the time we were leaving. It would be a long, long time before I would see this child again.
Over the next five minutes, I said goodbye to a lot of other children and I checked on this boy probably three times. The last time I checked, he had gone back into his bedroom/classroom and was sitting against the wall, with his hands on his head. His head was down. He was crying.
Here was a three-year old child, quietly sobbing by himself. He was completely alone. I kept waving to him to no avail. I grabbed a few older kids and asked them to cheer him up and watch after him. They agreed but to leave a child like that in that condition, almost nothing will make you feel better.
This feeling of helpless was overwhelming. And it had just hit me for the first time five minutes before we left our final orphanage.
I didn’t intensely miss all of the kids I had seen. This morbid feeling of helplessness arose inside of me when I saw this three-year old quietly crying by himself in the doorway. He was totally alone. Physically. Emotionally.
He wasn’t crying for attention. He wasn’t making any noise. No other child was comforting him. The house mothers simply weren’t in that room to help. You had to go out of your way to notice him. He was just sad.
I had to leave that boy crying by himself against the wall.
I was so busy earlier that day that I wasn’t able to get especially close to any one child. But today, when we arrived at 4 PM, one young boy took to me right away. Not the same boy who I had seen that night but another. I hadn’t spent much time with him but, for some reason, from the time I arrived today, he clung to me.
When I sat down, he came right up to me and put his arm around me. For the next five hours, he wasn’t more than ten feet from me. Whenever I sat down, he came up and looked me in the eye and I just knew I had to put my arm around him. He would put his arm around me and we would just sit. No conversation. Just the bond of two people, one of whom needed love so badly.
After seeing the lonely three-year old right before we were to leave, I jumped in the car and rolled the window down to say goodbye to everyone. I sat there for a few minutes while my fellow travelers loaded into the cars, waving to children and saying goodbye.
The boy that had attached himself to me came right up to the car and we held hands the entire time I was shaking hands with everyone else.
Now, this boy hadn’t said much to me before. We had pretty much hugged and held hands and that was the extent of our very silent relationship. In the ten minutes or so it had taken us to leave, he hugged me at least three times. He really, really wanted to be near me.
As we pulled away in the car, I’m still holding this boy’s hand. He grabs my hand even tighter, kisses it twice, looks up at me and says “I love you.” As we drive away, all I can manage is an “I love you!” back. I hope that was enough.
I had not said that to any other child on this trip.
We turn on to the main road of JSG, the small movie screen between the passenger seat and the driver comes down and the girls in the back start watching Indian music videos. I throw my dark sunglasses on (it’s 9 PM mind you) and the tears start to come down.
I’m not a crier by any means. Like I said, until tonight, my rationality and reason helped me avoid getting too close to the kids. Make no mistake, I felt genuine feelings for these children. It was fun playing with them and they sure were cute. I understood the monumental task before us to help these children and I was 100% motivated to accomplish that task.
But it hadn’t truly “hit me” yet.
Until a child looked me in the eyes and said, “I love you” as I drove away from him. Until I had to leave a three-year-old crying by himself.
Think about it. I’m a 25-year old guy who doesn’t even really like children. But on the final day of this trip, I cracked. I genuinely cried for two boys I had met three days before.
Oh my gosh, I never thought this would happen. Ever. The power of this place is absolutely amazing. Those of you who have travelled here know exactly what I mean.
Up until tonight, I was able to rationalize the conditions I’d seen in India with a very cold, logical sense of reason. This is the way it’s always been here, I would tell myself. I’m just another privileged white guy coming to the third world and doing my best to help out for two weeks. How cliché is that?
Tonight, all that changed.
I didn’t let myself go too much because I didn’t want to appear to be culturally arrogant. Sure, if you compare almost any other country to America, especially the orphanage conditions here, you’re going to be mad about what you see. Why isn’t this that way, you keep telling yourself.
I let go of my cold sense of reason and could not help but feel something beyond what my rational mind would allow. I felt something that was strictly a human connection. Something that extended beyond any previous notions or limits my mind had set before. Something beyond, “This is India, deal with it.”
I walked out of dinner tonight at the Bhawani orphanage and strolled down the main hall. As I walked, I passed the classrooms/bedrooms on my right. I came up on a three-year-old child, leaning against the door of his communal room, with tears in his eyes. The look on his face didn’t express sadness over us, the ambassadors, leaving – he hadn’t smiled all trip – but it spoke to something much deeper. He missed his mother. It was an undeniable human emotion I could sense.
Other children had cried over us leaving but this was different. This wasn’t about us.
I walked up to him and tried to cheer him up. Nothing. No reaction. He looked at me and then his eyes went back to that long stare you’ll sometimes see in the kids hurting the most.
He was hurting so bad. He missed his mother. He missed something that he knew he couldn’t have right then. Or possibly ever again.
I immediately grabbed my computer and ran back to him to show him the digital pictures that the Indian kids loved so much. Surely, this would cheer him up.
Nope. Nothing. This kid was too sad to be cheered up.
Unfortunately, the time this was happening was the time we were leaving. It would be a long, long time before I would see this child again.
Over the next five minutes, I said goodbye to a lot of other children and I checked on this boy probably three times. The last time I checked, he had gone back into his bedroom/classroom and was sitting against the wall, with his hands on his head. His head was down. He was crying.
Here was a three-year old child, quietly sobbing by himself. He was completely alone. I kept waving to him to no avail. I grabbed a few older kids and asked them to cheer him up and watch after him. They agreed but to leave a child like that in that condition, almost nothing will make you feel better.
This feeling of helpless was overwhelming. And it had just hit me for the first time five minutes before we left our final orphanage.
I didn’t intensely miss all of the kids I had seen. This morbid feeling of helplessness arose inside of me when I saw this three-year old quietly crying by himself in the doorway. He was totally alone. Physically. Emotionally.
He wasn’t crying for attention. He wasn’t making any noise. No other child was comforting him. The house mothers simply weren’t in that room to help. You had to go out of your way to notice him. He was just sad.
I had to leave that boy crying by himself against the wall.
I was so busy earlier that day that I wasn’t able to get especially close to any one child. But today, when we arrived at 4 PM, one young boy took to me right away. Not the same boy who I had seen that night but another. I hadn’t spent much time with him but, for some reason, from the time I arrived today, he clung to me.
When I sat down, he came right up to me and put his arm around me. For the next five hours, he wasn’t more than ten feet from me. Whenever I sat down, he came up and looked me in the eye and I just knew I had to put my arm around him. He would put his arm around me and we would just sit. No conversation. Just the bond of two people, one of whom needed love so badly.
After seeing the lonely three-year old right before we were to leave, I jumped in the car and rolled the window down to say goodbye to everyone. I sat there for a few minutes while my fellow travelers loaded into the cars, waving to children and saying goodbye.
The boy that had attached himself to me came right up to the car and we held hands the entire time I was shaking hands with everyone else.
Now, this boy hadn’t said much to me before. We had pretty much hugged and held hands and that was the extent of our very silent relationship. In the ten minutes or so it had taken us to leave, he hugged me at least three times. He really, really wanted to be near me.
As we pulled away in the car, I’m still holding this boy’s hand. He grabs my hand even tighter, kisses it twice, looks up at me and says “I love you.” As we drive away, all I can manage is an “I love you!” back. I hope that was enough.
I had not said that to any other child on this trip.
We turn on to the main road of JSG, the small movie screen between the passenger seat and the driver comes down and the girls in the back start watching Indian music videos. I throw my dark sunglasses on (it’s 9 PM mind you) and the tears start to come down.
I’m not a crier by any means. Like I said, until tonight, my rationality and reason helped me avoid getting too close to the kids. Make no mistake, I felt genuine feelings for these children. It was fun playing with them and they sure were cute. I understood the monumental task before us to help these children and I was 100% motivated to accomplish that task.
But it hadn’t truly “hit me” yet.
Until a child looked me in the eyes and said, “I love you” as I drove away from him. Until I had to leave a three-year-old crying by himself.
Think about it. I’m a 25-year old guy who doesn’t even really like children. But on the final day of this trip, I cracked. I genuinely cried for two boys I had met three days before.
Oh my gosh, I never thought this would happen. Ever. The power of this place is absolutely amazing. Those of you who have travelled here know exactly what I mean.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
About to head to the Bhawani Orphanage
Sorry for the delay in posting. Monsoon season and satellite internet do not mix. The shot above is from the fourth floor of our hotel. Jumbled thoughts follow. Last we talked we were spending out last day at the Rourkela orphanage, on our way to the Bhawani orphanage. That was on Sunday night and it is currently Wednesday afternoon here so adjust your clocks accordingly. We left Rourkela about 7:30 PM on our way to Bhawani. The group took the train while one of our driver Bishaun (?) and I drove the 160 KM to Jharsuguda (JSG), which is an up and coming city/town in eastern India. Plans for an airport here are in the works which will make the city boom even more. Many of the hotels were booked solid when we arrived.
The ride down here was a bit harrowing. Like I said, it was just our driver and I, driving the 160 KM in the pitch black, with the most intense rains falling on us that I've ever seen in my life. We saw one large dump truck crashed on its side as we drove. During the ride, Bishaun and I bonded over some betel nut mixture, which is a mild, tobaccish chew you put in your mouth. It tasted a lot like sandalwood incense.
We arrived in JSG about 10:30 PM and because of a me mixing up what hotel I was supposed to be at, didn't see the rest of the group until Monday morning. The word is they thought we had died on the way down to JSG and I couldn't blame them when I looked at it from their perspective. We were all supposed to meet up at the same hotel and I was supposed to deliver the luaggage. When 3 AM rolled around and I wasn't there (I was asleep in my bed at that time just down the road), people got understandably scared.
But, it all worked out in the end. We drove to the Bhawani orphanage yesterday afternoon and were immediately greeted by over 100 children. Within five minutes, I had shaked at least fifty hands and seen a thousand smiles. We were also greeted to a newly rennovated Bhawani orphanage. Before we came, Caroline had advised the group that this orphanage was more "typical" of India and that we should adjust our expectations accordingly. But we arrived to newly concrete floors (they had been dirt), a new roof that didn't leak and wiring that was now encased in metal tubing. Before the rennovation, the wires in the home were exposed. This created holes for Cobra snakes (Yes, Cobras) to move in and out of the orphange. Manjeet, our director here in India, told us the kids knew to stay still when they were in their beds and they felt a snake come across their body. I couldn't even begin to imagine the fear that would be running through myself if that happened.
We spent a couple of hours there, getting to know our kids a bit better. The kids at Bhawani are older and many of them are not true orphans. Some children's parents simply could not afford to care for them and gave them
And speaking of those children's parents, before we travled to Bhawani, we drove about an hour and half outiside of JSG to a village where one of the Bhawani children had come from. This drive was an amazing trip though one of the Forest Divisions, where wild elephants roamed. There wasn't much civilization to speak of on this drive, only the occassional road side building or set of buildings. This was truly as a remote location as I had ever been to in my life. We arrived at the village and toured a small set of mud and brick huts where the villagers lived. A dozen or so people made up the little housing area we toured and 17 homes and families made up the village. The homes were quite spread out, with rice patties seperating them. Lush, green mountains towered over us just a quarter mile from the village.
We met the villagers, which had only rarely in their lives seen Westerners. Like I said, it was very remote. We handed out candy, pulled some water from their well and laughed with the villagers as our house mothers translated our conversations with them. Just like the children we've visited, these villagers laughed with great big smiles.
It's almost 3 PM and we're off to the orphanage to play with the kids again. Hopefully, I will be able to blog some more tonight or tomorrow.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Last Day at Rourkela
We're only hours away until we leave our Rourkela orphanage and head to the Bhawani orphanage. I wanted to give you a view of the orphanage grounds, so here you are.
Here is a shot from the back of the main building. The house mothers live there and there are a couple of meeting rooms. The roof has been repaired recently but is still a bit fragile, as we found out during a soccer game when someone kicked the ball up there and a shingle fell off.
We're still in the back of the orphanage grounds here, with the kids living quarters and bathrooms right behind us. The AMD computer lab is also right behind this shot. The field where the kids play Bulldog, soccer and other games is in the back of the shot.
This shot is a bit more to the right of the last one and you can see where the children's clothes are hung and laid out to dry. The well is right there too. The walls surrounding the orphanage are probably 15 feet high.
That door right in front of the shot is the door to the computer lab and the entrance to the infant's room is right around the corner from that. Looking further down the path, the bathrooms are on the right and the well is on the left.
Here we have the main path leading up to the house mother's building. The path runs right underneath that colored covering.The playing field is directly to my right.
Right here is the sand pit, slide and swing. I think I've seen upwards of ten children on that swing at one time. They love to climb all over it. They also somehow manage to fit five or six of them on the slide at one time too. The older kids can stand on top of the slide and shoot right down it on two feet.
This is the side of the grounds opposite the playing field. Just some clothes hanging and vehicle storage.
Finally, we have the main red entrance to the orphanage. People go in and out of a small opening in it and it's only fully opened for cars. There is a big Sunday market going on right outside those gates today.
And there is a quick look at the Rourkela orphanage. It's sweltering hot right now as I type this. My hands are sticky, I've foregone any chance of staying clean at this place and I go through two shirts a day. I usually sweat through one by about noon. On the plus side, the cold showers here are fantastic!
Here is a shot from the back of the main building. The house mothers live there and there are a couple of meeting rooms. The roof has been repaired recently but is still a bit fragile, as we found out during a soccer game when someone kicked the ball up there and a shingle fell off.
We're still in the back of the orphanage grounds here, with the kids living quarters and bathrooms right behind us. The AMD computer lab is also right behind this shot. The field where the kids play Bulldog, soccer and other games is in the back of the shot.
This shot is a bit more to the right of the last one and you can see where the children's clothes are hung and laid out to dry. The well is right there too. The walls surrounding the orphanage are probably 15 feet high.
That door right in front of the shot is the door to the computer lab and the entrance to the infant's room is right around the corner from that. Looking further down the path, the bathrooms are on the right and the well is on the left.
Here we have the main path leading up to the house mother's building. The path runs right underneath that colored covering.The playing field is directly to my right.
Right here is the sand pit, slide and swing. I think I've seen upwards of ten children on that swing at one time. They love to climb all over it. They also somehow manage to fit five or six of them on the slide at one time too. The older kids can stand on top of the slide and shoot right down it on two feet.
This is the side of the grounds opposite the playing field. Just some clothes hanging and vehicle storage.
Finally, we have the main red entrance to the orphanage. People go in and out of a small opening in it and it's only fully opened for cars. There is a big Sunday market going on right outside those gates today.
And there is a quick look at the Rourkela orphanage. It's sweltering hot right now as I type this. My hands are sticky, I've foregone any chance of staying clean at this place and I go through two shirts a day. I usually sweat through one by about noon. On the plus side, the cold showers here are fantastic!
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Velcro Monkey
"Velcro Monkey" is the term used to describe the kids who, when you pick them up, wrap their arms and legs around you and won't let go. Pawan is the definition of a velcro monkey. He sat next to me on the porch of the orphanage for a solid half hour and we just occassionaly looked at each other and smiled. He's only about three years old, a bit of a cry baby but one of those kids that melts your heart.
And Pawan, ahem, doesn't have a sponsor. Hit me up at chris@miraclefoundation.org if you're intersted in sponsoring Pawan.
Ankit!
Ankit is another great kid we have at Rourkela. He's been a big help to me when talking with the kids. When the kids speak Hindi to me, he says "English! Not Hindi!" so I can understand them. Very nice kid, Ankit.
It's 6:45 AM right now and I'm sitting on the balcony outside our hotel room at the MayFair Hotel. A light mist is falling, the caucaphony of car horns is ever present in my ears and I don't believe anyone else is awake. This has been one of my favorite times in India so far - morning, by myself, with nothing else going but the thoughts in my head. I'm watching the hotel staff go about their business - sweeeping the driveway, cleaning the pool deck and general hotel going ons.
The staff at the MayFair is very polite and have been nothing but fantastic every time we needed something. Except when we needed an extra bed and they took about three hours to get it to our room. And losing clothes in our laundry but finding them later. All in all, they've been great.
Every second of this trip I have been absorbing everything I possibly can. The sights, smells and sounds of India are so different than America (Duh!). I feel like if I shut my eyes even for a second I'm missing out.
That may explain why I got up at 6 AM today. I opened my eyes and could not justify going back to sleep with this incredible world at my doorstep.
Did I mention you should come to India??
Rourkela's Troublemaker
The kid in the middle of this picture is Deepak, a young man at the Rourkela orphanage. Just a couple of years ago, Deepak wouldn't even smile. In fact, we sponsored him for a time and had his smileless face on our refrigerator for a long time.
He definitely smiles now (I don't have a better picture now because college students DO NOT like to be woken up at 6:00 AM and be asked for their cameras) and he's become Rourkela orphanage's resident trouble maker. After spending 8 hours at the home yesterday, let's run down a quick list of Deepak's indisrections:
Throwing rocks on the roof of the home
Catching dragonflies and chasing the girls around with them
Crawling up the slide for at least a half hour and when he got to the top, sliding back down and bringing everyone else with him
When playing Bulldog, he would just yell out "Bulldog!" whenever he wanted, making the start of each round even more chaotic
In other words, you always have to keep an eye on him, which is actually a lot of fun to do.
He's another one of the beautful kids we got to visit over the three days we spent there. Today (Sunday) is our last day there and we head out tonight for the Bhawani orphanage.
Friday, August 8, 2008
More Kids!
We arrived at our orphanage outside of Rourkela this afternoon. It's about 45 minutes or so away from the hotel we're staying at in the actual city. On the drive here, we saw our first pair of elephants, as well as many of the steel plants that Rourkela is known for.
Right now, I am wearing my Indian kurta (shirt) and it is soaked completely through with sweat. We just got done playing Bulldog, which is a more frantic form of Red Rover. After that, we all stood in a circle while one person walked the cirle and dropped a hankerchief behind another. The person who drops the hankerchief takes off running around the circle and the other person tries to catch them. I was sincerely outrun by a child less than 10 years old.
The children here at our oldest orphanage adore "Auntie" Caroline and the infants will stick to you like velcro if you let them. I don't think I've ever seen more genuine expressions of happiness on children's faces as I have here. It's absolutely amazing.
I'm off to change shirts and do some shopping in the town. The town residents regularly use the computer lab here at the orphanage so our reputation is fantastic throughout the community. There is broadband internet attached to at least a dozen computers as well.
It's so exciting being here!
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Delhi to Ranchi to Rourkela
Okay, folks. We finally have internet access.
I am currently in the city of Rourkela at about 10 PM and the city is buzzing. Rourkela is south of Ranchi, which is where Sooch Village is. There is so much activity right outside of our hotel that I can’t get over it. People are selling food, small stores of every variety are open for business and the stench of a burning odor hangs heavy in the air. The hotel itself is square shaped, with a pool, courtyard, religious shrine and other statues in the middle of it.
And, the train must be close because I can see and feel it.
Since we last talked, I had just gotten to Sooch Village. Before that, I spent 7 hours in a Delhi Hotel before flying to Ranchi. Let’s catch up.
Arrival in Delhi
The 15 hour plane ride wasn't too bad, aside from a three-hour weather delay in Chicago. I slept, ate a little and watched some TV on the in-seat monitor.
I was anxious when I stepped off the plane in Delhi as I forced my way through hundreds of Indians waiting to pick up their relatives. Anxious enough that I didn't even hit up the duty-free liquor store right there by baggage claim. In my world. that is anxious.
I found the Pre-Pay taxi stand quickly, gave the man behind the glass the address of the hotel, taxi fare and I was off. Actually, it didn't go quite that smoothly. The taxi fare was 250 rupees (~$6) and I gave the man behind the glass 500 rupees. For some reason, between watching my luggage and making sure he wrote the correct address down to give to the drive, I forgot to ask for change. Of course, the man kept the change. Welcome to India.
The car I rode in was quite small. It wasn’t short so much as it was skinnier than the cars I'm used to in Austin. The 10-minute ride to the hotel was uneventful aside from a few young boys agitating a good size roadside fire. I wasn't able to see much of my surroundings because it was pitch black outside but I caught some things.
From that first ride to my hotel in Delhi, some themes of the trip were already apparent. Mutt dogs roamed the roads, people huddled around fires and cars were honking their horns constantly. And I mean constantly. The horn in India is used as a heads up to the bikers, motorcyclists and pedestrians that you’re coming up behind them. Horns come in all sounds too. High pitched, booming, squealing. It's an automotive harmony.
Driving in India is a continuous game of chicken. Drivers are constantly passing others by shooting over in to the oncoming lane and zipping back into theirs. I have seen more cars coming at me head-on than I ever will for the rest of my life in America. It is completely common to be inches (literally, inches as in two) away from a massive truck in the oncoming lane as you veer back into your proper lane. I had to stop in the middle of a conversation because I was entranced by the giant red truck barreling towards our car. The front of nearly every car here says "Good Luck" somewhere on the windshield or bumper.
With so many different modes of transportation going at so many different speeds (stopping in the middle of the road is a speed here), you’re constantly weaving around people and vehicles. Indians seemed to have developed a sixth sense about traffic and when to get out of the way because they don't even break concentration when they move. They hear the horn and move accordingly.
So, I get into my hotel room in Delhi about midnight. I walk in and there is a 42-inch plasma television hanging from the wall. Don’t get me wrong – the hotel was very nice. But I was definitely taken a back by such a large TV juxtaposed with the small beds that were in front it and the fact that I only have a 17-inch TV at home. Plus, there was still a hole in the wall from when they ran the cable wire. 42-inch plasma but not a touch of spackle for the wall? Land of contrast indeed.
My flight was at 8:50 AM so I had about 7 hours or so in the hotel room. I ordered room service – French fries and tomato soup – and I got both of them in about ten minutes. By both, I mean I got a plate of French fries and a bowl of tomato soup with fries in the soup. I guess the man on the other end of the room service line got confused with my order.
I was able to sleep on and off for about three hours. The other time, I was checking out Indian TV. I watched some music videos, Indian Fear Factor and a bit of the news. One news story was about a candidate for office that was trying to mimic the way Barack Obama had reached out to young people with technology. I came all the way to India to hear about the upcoming US election. “The Barack Obama Effect”, they called it.
I took a car to the airport the next morning just before 8 AM. I got to the airport, showed the guard at the door my e-ticket and he let me right in. One Kingfisher Airline employee grabbed my two bags I was going to check and sent them through the x-ray machine. Then, I went to the short ticket line just a few feet away and checked my two bags. Interestingly enough, the woman who gave me my boarding pass and checked my bags was also one of the stewardesses on the plane.
While I was waiting for the bus to take us the runway (it’s one of those airports), I asked a man where I could find terminal A. He asked if I was on the 8:50 AM flight to Ranchi, I said yes and he said he was on the same flight. My new best friend.
A short bus took us directly the plane on the runway, where we got off and boarded the plane. It was a small plane but certainly wasn’t super small. It had about 20 rows of seats, with a pair of seats on the left side and three on the right side. We took off a short time later and after an uneventful plane ride I land in Ranchi. One interesting note about the plane ride was that for most of the ride, there was a fog put out in the cabin right above our heads. It didn't fill up the plane but it was thick intitially coming out of the plane wall. Not too sure what this was but nobody batted an eye so neither did I.
I land in Ranchi about 10:30 AM and see our travel coordinator Barbara there to greet me. She sorts out some weird passport issue and we jump in our car and head to the city.
Before we got to Sooch Village, we needed to do some shopping. Here is where the driving got really nuts. People are in and off the street, the “lanes” are pretty skinny so the cars, bikes and people are packed in together as you drive. Here's a clip that does the traffic congestion a bit of justice.
I saw a man peeing on the side of the road, lots of food stands and plenty of cell phone ads on the way to the “Big Bazaar” where we would be shopping. This is a five story store with groceries on the first floor and rounded out with men and women’s clothes, electronics, housewares, furniture and pretty much most things you see if you imagined a Wal-Mart type store with fewer choices and much less square footage.
Guards at the entrance to the store wanded us down and let Barbara and I pass through. A minute later, I walked back outside to grab a picture of the front of the store. I lift up my camera and, well, take a look.
Yes, I found out the hard way you cannot take pictures at this store. They took my camera, wrote the date, make and model on a piece of paper and handed both the paper and the camera back to me. I quizzically looked at the three men who it took to write this and walk back into the store with my camera.
After about an hour, we had picked up our necessary items which included a brown kurta (shirt) for me and a pair of sunglasses. As we were choosing our items, a man came up to me and asked if I would pose in a picture with his daughter. Right there. Next to the glass storage containers. Of course, I did it and I will probably mention it again on this blog because it was a pretty cool thing to have happen to you during your first half hour in Ranchi.
We found a small restaurant and grabbed a quick bite to eat before heading out. Before we left, I needed to the use the restroom, asked the man where it was and headed underneath the stairs to find it. I'm doing my thing in the urinal when I look down and see, ahem, my pee coming out of a tube and going into a hole right next to my foot. I look at the urinal. I look at the tube with pee coming out. And laughed right there in the bathroom. I really might as well have just peed in that hole.
We made it to Sooch Village a short time later, after about a half hour ride through Rourkela. I have a great clip of the ride but satellite internet in India only has so much bandwith. Sooch is a bit outside of the city, surrounded by walls separating the orphanage from the rest of the community. The wall isn't ideal at the moment but necessary unforutnately.
It’s a small community surrounding Sooch – people tending to animals and breaking rock for 2 rupees a day. 40 rupees equals one US dollar so, yeah, they’re not making much for incredibly tough work.
My first afternoon at Sooch Village was spent meeting the staff, playing with the children and making sure we got every sponsorshop video recorded that we needed to.
The kids are absolutely fantastic and I won’t say much more because you really need to see them for yourself. You just have to. Trying to put the joy on their faces into words simply does not work. Come to India and see for yourself.
We played with the soccer ball that evening and ate ice cream. There was a young boy named Pardeep whose legs were very sore, rending him unable to walk. All of the children ran for the ice cream from their houses and I took Pardeep on my shoulders and we walked to get ice cream and watch the other kids kick the ball around. I felt immense joy from being able to help Pardeep join in the fun as much as he could. Sure, it was a little gesture, taking him on my shoulders and walking a few hundred yards but it put a smile on my face.
Darn kids got me hooked right off the bat.
The adoption center where we slept for the night had about ten bedrooms and was very nice. There are office rooms, five or six bathrooms, balconies and a roof “deck”. From the roof, you could see for a long distance. It was fun trying to figure out what the shapes on the horizon were.
As sunset approached about 8 PM or so, you could see in the very far distance a thunderstorm developing.
Lightning lit up the clouds and it was like a fireworks show. I never heard any thunder, until the next morning when it rained steadily for about a half hour then drizzled on and off until we left for Rourkela that afternoon.
The rest of the night was spent getting to know my fellow travelers better and I made it to bed about midnight and crashed onto my bed surrounded by mosquito netting. I slept deeply and awoke about 7:30 the next morning in a nasty REM sleep haze, did some work, ate and awaited our rides to train station and eventually Rourkela.
As I mentioned before, we took a three hour train ride from Ranchi to get to Rourkela and that in itself was an experience. The train station in Ranchi was packed with people waaiting at the entrance. We pulled up, our porters took our bags out of the car and we waited for the train to come at 4:05 PM.
While we were waiting, a noisy rally developed right before our eyes in the middle of the street. Two huge bullhorns attached to the top of a truck belted out a man’s voice. A half dozen or so other cars followed him and they just stopped right in front of the train station. People got out and danced to the insanely loud Indian music coming from the bullhorns. I’m not sure what the rally was about but it took up the whole road and the other bystanders were watching too. Very interesting experience to be a part of.
The train platform was filled with stands selling all sorts of trinkets; people laying prone, sleeping directly on the concrete; and dogs roaming the tracks.
We jumped on the train with all of our luggage, argued with a man about what number train car we were actually in and settled in the for the trip.
The landscape between Ranchi and Rourkela was gorgeous, filled with green fields, massive rocks jutting up from the hground and rolling hills. Trees and shorter bushes sporadically punctuated our view alongside the tracks.
Even though trains run by these people all the time, the residents of the fields and homes near the train tracks still dropped everything and stared at the train as we passed. The children would wave to us in unison with their brothers and sisters while the adults just vacantly looked back at us.
We made half dozen or so stops on the entire trip and Barbara, Caroline and I were able to grab an empty set of seats to ourselves. I slouched down in the cushion of the air-conditioned car and stared out the window nearly the entire trip, fascinated by everything I saw. People were working in the rice patties while dogs and cows roamed the countryside.
The sun set while we were on the train and we entered Rourkela under darkness.
Okay, so we’re back to where I actually am now – Rourkela. We just got in this evening, had some dinner and now the rest of the group is a bit scattered as I type this in my hotel room. Not much has happened yet except for a nervous taxi ride from the train station to our hotel. As soon as we stepped out of the Rourkela train station, the beggars surrounded us. Making motions to their mouths, looking back to men on bikes who obviously had a financial stake in this, the children look pitiful but I couldn't feel much sympathy for them. It’s a ploy and this is essentially their job. They see a group of Westerners and they use their leg grabbing gimmicks to squeeze money out of us (or our pockets if you're not careful). I know those children were actually in need of food, medicine, whatever. But right then and there, the sympathy wasn't in me.
Of course, to give any one of those children money would be to invite dozens more to surround you. Not a very safe decision to make in a foreign land. Barbara was surrounded by two dozen men when she paid the porters. Only about six porters helped us but you show that money in the public and it's like a moth to a flame.
Whoops, forgot about the taxi ride. Porters loaded our luggage into taxis and the other group members got in. Except me, who was riding in the front seat of one car with only the driver of the taxi and a bunch of our luggage in the back. We were following another taxi filled with our group members when we left the train station area.
Within about ten seconds of leaving, the car loaded with Miracle Foundation people takes a quick left and my driver…keeps going straight. I motion to him to follow the car that had just turned and he says to me, “Shortcut.”. My mind rapidly went through the What-ifs of being kidnapped in India but the anxiety never really took hold. Within a few minutes, we rounded a traffic circle and saw the other car. I breathed a quiet sigh of relief and felt a bit foolish for being so cynical.
And that’s my first two days in India. We’re up early tomorrow to head to our orphanage here and it’s guaranteed to be another incredible day in this country. I’m soaking up every last bit of information my eyes and questions can gather and it’s been amazing so far.
Alright, my mind is mush now. I’ve barely slept in two days, had no coffee whatsoever and I need to order some food to get me straight again. I know there are typos in this post but I can’t bring myself to find them.
Thanks for reading. If you want to read more, say a prayer to the Indian internet gods.
PS The videos I shot really give you a great sense of what I'm writing about. When I get to a faster internet connection, if I get to a faster connection, I'll update this post with videos.
I am currently in the city of Rourkela at about 10 PM and the city is buzzing. Rourkela is south of Ranchi, which is where Sooch Village is. There is so much activity right outside of our hotel that I can’t get over it. People are selling food, small stores of every variety are open for business and the stench of a burning odor hangs heavy in the air. The hotel itself is square shaped, with a pool, courtyard, religious shrine and other statues in the middle of it.
And, the train must be close because I can see and feel it.
Since we last talked, I had just gotten to Sooch Village. Before that, I spent 7 hours in a Delhi Hotel before flying to Ranchi. Let’s catch up.
Arrival in Delhi
The 15 hour plane ride wasn't too bad, aside from a three-hour weather delay in Chicago. I slept, ate a little and watched some TV on the in-seat monitor.
I was anxious when I stepped off the plane in Delhi as I forced my way through hundreds of Indians waiting to pick up their relatives. Anxious enough that I didn't even hit up the duty-free liquor store right there by baggage claim. In my world. that is anxious.
I found the Pre-Pay taxi stand quickly, gave the man behind the glass the address of the hotel, taxi fare and I was off. Actually, it didn't go quite that smoothly. The taxi fare was 250 rupees (~$6) and I gave the man behind the glass 500 rupees. For some reason, between watching my luggage and making sure he wrote the correct address down to give to the drive, I forgot to ask for change. Of course, the man kept the change. Welcome to India.
The car I rode in was quite small. It wasn’t short so much as it was skinnier than the cars I'm used to in Austin. The 10-minute ride to the hotel was uneventful aside from a few young boys agitating a good size roadside fire. I wasn't able to see much of my surroundings because it was pitch black outside but I caught some things.
From that first ride to my hotel in Delhi, some themes of the trip were already apparent. Mutt dogs roamed the roads, people huddled around fires and cars were honking their horns constantly. And I mean constantly. The horn in India is used as a heads up to the bikers, motorcyclists and pedestrians that you’re coming up behind them. Horns come in all sounds too. High pitched, booming, squealing. It's an automotive harmony.
Driving in India is a continuous game of chicken. Drivers are constantly passing others by shooting over in to the oncoming lane and zipping back into theirs. I have seen more cars coming at me head-on than I ever will for the rest of my life in America. It is completely common to be inches (literally, inches as in two) away from a massive truck in the oncoming lane as you veer back into your proper lane. I had to stop in the middle of a conversation because I was entranced by the giant red truck barreling towards our car. The front of nearly every car here says "Good Luck" somewhere on the windshield or bumper.
With so many different modes of transportation going at so many different speeds (stopping in the middle of the road is a speed here), you’re constantly weaving around people and vehicles. Indians seemed to have developed a sixth sense about traffic and when to get out of the way because they don't even break concentration when they move. They hear the horn and move accordingly.
So, I get into my hotel room in Delhi about midnight. I walk in and there is a 42-inch plasma television hanging from the wall. Don’t get me wrong – the hotel was very nice. But I was definitely taken a back by such a large TV juxtaposed with the small beds that were in front it and the fact that I only have a 17-inch TV at home. Plus, there was still a hole in the wall from when they ran the cable wire. 42-inch plasma but not a touch of spackle for the wall? Land of contrast indeed.
My flight was at 8:50 AM so I had about 7 hours or so in the hotel room. I ordered room service – French fries and tomato soup – and I got both of them in about ten minutes. By both, I mean I got a plate of French fries and a bowl of tomato soup with fries in the soup. I guess the man on the other end of the room service line got confused with my order.
I was able to sleep on and off for about three hours. The other time, I was checking out Indian TV. I watched some music videos, Indian Fear Factor and a bit of the news. One news story was about a candidate for office that was trying to mimic the way Barack Obama had reached out to young people with technology. I came all the way to India to hear about the upcoming US election. “The Barack Obama Effect”, they called it.
I took a car to the airport the next morning just before 8 AM. I got to the airport, showed the guard at the door my e-ticket and he let me right in. One Kingfisher Airline employee grabbed my two bags I was going to check and sent them through the x-ray machine. Then, I went to the short ticket line just a few feet away and checked my two bags. Interestingly enough, the woman who gave me my boarding pass and checked my bags was also one of the stewardesses on the plane.
While I was waiting for the bus to take us the runway (it’s one of those airports), I asked a man where I could find terminal A. He asked if I was on the 8:50 AM flight to Ranchi, I said yes and he said he was on the same flight. My new best friend.
A short bus took us directly the plane on the runway, where we got off and boarded the plane. It was a small plane but certainly wasn’t super small. It had about 20 rows of seats, with a pair of seats on the left side and three on the right side. We took off a short time later and after an uneventful plane ride I land in Ranchi. One interesting note about the plane ride was that for most of the ride, there was a fog put out in the cabin right above our heads. It didn't fill up the plane but it was thick intitially coming out of the plane wall. Not too sure what this was but nobody batted an eye so neither did I.
I land in Ranchi about 10:30 AM and see our travel coordinator Barbara there to greet me. She sorts out some weird passport issue and we jump in our car and head to the city.
Before we got to Sooch Village, we needed to do some shopping. Here is where the driving got really nuts. People are in and off the street, the “lanes” are pretty skinny so the cars, bikes and people are packed in together as you drive. Here's a clip that does the traffic congestion a bit of justice.
I saw a man peeing on the side of the road, lots of food stands and plenty of cell phone ads on the way to the “Big Bazaar” where we would be shopping. This is a five story store with groceries on the first floor and rounded out with men and women’s clothes, electronics, housewares, furniture and pretty much most things you see if you imagined a Wal-Mart type store with fewer choices and much less square footage.
Guards at the entrance to the store wanded us down and let Barbara and I pass through. A minute later, I walked back outside to grab a picture of the front of the store. I lift up my camera and, well, take a look.
Yes, I found out the hard way you cannot take pictures at this store. They took my camera, wrote the date, make and model on a piece of paper and handed both the paper and the camera back to me. I quizzically looked at the three men who it took to write this and walk back into the store with my camera.
After about an hour, we had picked up our necessary items which included a brown kurta (shirt) for me and a pair of sunglasses. As we were choosing our items, a man came up to me and asked if I would pose in a picture with his daughter. Right there. Next to the glass storage containers. Of course, I did it and I will probably mention it again on this blog because it was a pretty cool thing to have happen to you during your first half hour in Ranchi.
We found a small restaurant and grabbed a quick bite to eat before heading out. Before we left, I needed to the use the restroom, asked the man where it was and headed underneath the stairs to find it. I'm doing my thing in the urinal when I look down and see, ahem, my pee coming out of a tube and going into a hole right next to my foot. I look at the urinal. I look at the tube with pee coming out. And laughed right there in the bathroom. I really might as well have just peed in that hole.
We made it to Sooch Village a short time later, after about a half hour ride through Rourkela. I have a great clip of the ride but satellite internet in India only has so much bandwith. Sooch is a bit outside of the city, surrounded by walls separating the orphanage from the rest of the community. The wall isn't ideal at the moment but necessary unforutnately.
It’s a small community surrounding Sooch – people tending to animals and breaking rock for 2 rupees a day. 40 rupees equals one US dollar so, yeah, they’re not making much for incredibly tough work.
My first afternoon at Sooch Village was spent meeting the staff, playing with the children and making sure we got every sponsorshop video recorded that we needed to.
The kids are absolutely fantastic and I won’t say much more because you really need to see them for yourself. You just have to. Trying to put the joy on their faces into words simply does not work. Come to India and see for yourself.
We played with the soccer ball that evening and ate ice cream. There was a young boy named Pardeep whose legs were very sore, rending him unable to walk. All of the children ran for the ice cream from their houses and I took Pardeep on my shoulders and we walked to get ice cream and watch the other kids kick the ball around. I felt immense joy from being able to help Pardeep join in the fun as much as he could. Sure, it was a little gesture, taking him on my shoulders and walking a few hundred yards but it put a smile on my face.
Darn kids got me hooked right off the bat.
The adoption center where we slept for the night had about ten bedrooms and was very nice. There are office rooms, five or six bathrooms, balconies and a roof “deck”. From the roof, you could see for a long distance. It was fun trying to figure out what the shapes on the horizon were.
As sunset approached about 8 PM or so, you could see in the very far distance a thunderstorm developing.
Lightning lit up the clouds and it was like a fireworks show. I never heard any thunder, until the next morning when it rained steadily for about a half hour then drizzled on and off until we left for Rourkela that afternoon.
The rest of the night was spent getting to know my fellow travelers better and I made it to bed about midnight and crashed onto my bed surrounded by mosquito netting. I slept deeply and awoke about 7:30 the next morning in a nasty REM sleep haze, did some work, ate and awaited our rides to train station and eventually Rourkela.
As I mentioned before, we took a three hour train ride from Ranchi to get to Rourkela and that in itself was an experience. The train station in Ranchi was packed with people waaiting at the entrance. We pulled up, our porters took our bags out of the car and we waited for the train to come at 4:05 PM.
While we were waiting, a noisy rally developed right before our eyes in the middle of the street. Two huge bullhorns attached to the top of a truck belted out a man’s voice. A half dozen or so other cars followed him and they just stopped right in front of the train station. People got out and danced to the insanely loud Indian music coming from the bullhorns. I’m not sure what the rally was about but it took up the whole road and the other bystanders were watching too. Very interesting experience to be a part of.
The train platform was filled with stands selling all sorts of trinkets; people laying prone, sleeping directly on the concrete; and dogs roaming the tracks.
We jumped on the train with all of our luggage, argued with a man about what number train car we were actually in and settled in the for the trip.
The landscape between Ranchi and Rourkela was gorgeous, filled with green fields, massive rocks jutting up from the hground and rolling hills. Trees and shorter bushes sporadically punctuated our view alongside the tracks.
Even though trains run by these people all the time, the residents of the fields and homes near the train tracks still dropped everything and stared at the train as we passed. The children would wave to us in unison with their brothers and sisters while the adults just vacantly looked back at us.
We made half dozen or so stops on the entire trip and Barbara, Caroline and I were able to grab an empty set of seats to ourselves. I slouched down in the cushion of the air-conditioned car and stared out the window nearly the entire trip, fascinated by everything I saw. People were working in the rice patties while dogs and cows roamed the countryside.
The sun set while we were on the train and we entered Rourkela under darkness.
Okay, so we’re back to where I actually am now – Rourkela. We just got in this evening, had some dinner and now the rest of the group is a bit scattered as I type this in my hotel room. Not much has happened yet except for a nervous taxi ride from the train station to our hotel. As soon as we stepped out of the Rourkela train station, the beggars surrounded us. Making motions to their mouths, looking back to men on bikes who obviously had a financial stake in this, the children look pitiful but I couldn't feel much sympathy for them. It’s a ploy and this is essentially their job. They see a group of Westerners and they use their leg grabbing gimmicks to squeeze money out of us (or our pockets if you're not careful). I know those children were actually in need of food, medicine, whatever. But right then and there, the sympathy wasn't in me.
Of course, to give any one of those children money would be to invite dozens more to surround you. Not a very safe decision to make in a foreign land. Barbara was surrounded by two dozen men when she paid the porters. Only about six porters helped us but you show that money in the public and it's like a moth to a flame.
Whoops, forgot about the taxi ride. Porters loaded our luggage into taxis and the other group members got in. Except me, who was riding in the front seat of one car with only the driver of the taxi and a bunch of our luggage in the back. We were following another taxi filled with our group members when we left the train station area.
Within about ten seconds of leaving, the car loaded with Miracle Foundation people takes a quick left and my driver…keeps going straight. I motion to him to follow the car that had just turned and he says to me, “Shortcut.”. My mind rapidly went through the What-ifs of being kidnapped in India but the anxiety never really took hold. Within a few minutes, we rounded a traffic circle and saw the other car. I breathed a quiet sigh of relief and felt a bit foolish for being so cynical.
And that’s my first two days in India. We’re up early tomorrow to head to our orphanage here and it’s guaranteed to be another incredible day in this country. I’m soaking up every last bit of information my eyes and questions can gather and it’s been amazing so far.
Alright, my mind is mush now. I’ve barely slept in two days, had no coffee whatsoever and I need to order some food to get me straight again. I know there are typos in this post but I can’t bring myself to find them.
Thanks for reading. If you want to read more, say a prayer to the Indian internet gods.
PS The videos I shot really give you a great sense of what I'm writing about. When I get to a faster internet connection, if I get to a faster connection, I'll update this post with videos.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Monday, August 4, 2008
Now the Real Trip Begins
Chicago O'Hare...more boring than it looks.
The routine, three hour flight from Austin to Chicago is over. I'm waiting at gate K16 at the Chicago O'Hare airport for my 7:15 PM flight to Delhi.
O'Hare is a madhouse and so were the American Airlines terminals in Austin. Bad weather earlier in Chicago canceled a few flights bound for Austin, which in turn caused delays at the other connections the planes were eventually supposed to meet back in Chicago.
All in all, I'm quite happy to be sitting here with no place to go for a bit. It's kind of nice compared to the angry faces I'm seeing everywhere else I look.
Off to do some research on jet lag. Do I stay up all night on the way there so I can slip right in to the normal Delhi sleep pattern? I'm sure it's not that easy.
You know it's a long day at the airport when the fact that a plane is just boarding elicits cheers from the passengers.
Yep, I'm Actually Going to India
I'm all packed and ready to roll. At least I hope I'm all packed. I'm one of those travelers who always suspects he forgot something.
Actually, I have to be all packed because I'm already sitting in the Austin airport, awaiting my flight to Chicago O'Hare. From there, it's about a five hour layover and then I board the (gulp) 15 hour flight to Indira Ghandi International Airport in Delhi.
I've got a window seat on the Delhi leg, which I hope is going to be the best spot. I couldn't imagine being stuck in the third seat of a five seat row directly in the middle of the plane. The window seat means more pictures too so I hope I can get some good ones.
As far as entertainment goes, I have my laptop, which is loaded with TV shows, movies and a ton of music. It also has over 1,000 original Nintendo games on it so that should help kill time. I brought a couple of books too.
Well, this is it. The first leg of my trip to India begins in about an hour. Wish me luck.
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