Home

Even tho we have arrived home, I have not finished writing or posting photos. Hard to get it all done when internet is so inaccessible. Stay tuned!

Bat Cave

Sean found out about a bat cave here this morning, so you know what we did. The bats were fascinating. Over 5000, all asleep and hanging from the ceiling. Bats are a piece of cake for us. It was the crawling thru the cave on your tummy that was a bit challenging. The walls and floor were slippery as hell so you could not get a grip on anything. There was a Japanese couple behind us dressed for New Year's Eve. He was wearing a pinstriped suit and those stupid patent leather shoes that look like they are much to long for your feet. She was wearing a silk salwar kammeez and a pair of silver Cinderella slippers, the kind that just have a strap across the front and nothing to hold your heel in. We are talking major caving here! I was wearing my hiking boots and almost turned around and went back because I thought I was going to slip and kill myself.

At the end of the trip, we slithered thru an opening that just barely accommodated Sean's shoulders ( I did not think that it would) and Missy was right behind. Out came the Cinderella slippers and then her lovely unstained outfit. If only I were a real girl!

Dulikel to Pokara

I never understood the term 'professional driver' until today. We have one. Good thing! Picture a series of 'esses' stacked one on top of the other, all the way up a mountainside. Remember the road to Ronda Jesse and Zack? Same thing! Just more traffic, bigger trucks and passing. Lots of passing. Passing on turns, passing when there is oncoming traffic, passing, passing, passing. There is only one road through Nepal so all of the traffic is on it. The only difference between this road and the one in Ronda are the few strategically placed trees and berms that would slow you down just enough so that you could enjoy the terror if you go plummeting over one of these mountain passes. The drive from place to place is 240km by road. It took us 8.5 hours and that included a 1 hour stop for lunch and a 1/2 hour stop to cross a river on a suspension bridge. Normally I would have been terrified to walk across that bridge but today it was a relief just to get out of that car. Our speed averaged out to 30km per hour which seemed to me to be positively flying!

Every muscle in my body aches. My legs from standing on the back seat brakes, my traps from gripping the imaginary steering wheel and my jaws feel like my mouth has been wired shut for a month. Sean is not much better. After taking one particularly sharp turn to find a large truck in our lane (there is really only 1 1/2 lanes anyway) he said 'I think I just pooed a bit'. Shortly afterward he covered his eyes and dove head first into the seat chanting 'NOOOOOO. Stop!' Instead of having the desired effect of braking on the driver, Kechup just turned to look into the back seat to see what was wrong. Seanie won't do that again! At one point when Kechup reached the great old speed of 70 km per hour, I leaned forward to tell him that we really were not in a hurry. Actually, that is a lie... I did not lean forward. The gravitational force had me pinned to the back seat. It was freaking terrifying!

The light spot in the day was when we passed a van with a goat standing on the roof. It is not unusual to pass vehicles with dozens of people on the roofs, but a goat?????? We think that he was being hazed by his buddies. Either that or he was dared! I hope he made it home to collect his bets.

Uttam tells us that they only have two or three accidents a year on this road. What a coincidence.... we passed all three of them today.

At times like these, I wonder about my sanity. At home I insist on ski helmets, life jackets and seat belts. I would have packed my children in cotton batting at birth if I could have. Here I am in a country where safety is the least of concerns. Life is like a candle flame... one slight puff and it is lights out.

Comments

Could somebody please post a comment so that I do not think that the western world has been wiped off the face of the earth!!!!!!!!! Hello? Is there anybody there?

Dulikel

We spent a night in the Dulikel Mountain Resort. A bunch of chalets perched on the side of a hill. And, I mean perched! We are in the foothills of the Himalayas and everything here is uphill or downhill.

I watch the children going to and from school and wish I could bring a video of it back home. Imagine climbing twice the height of Marble, but steeper, twice a day. They are all wearing uniforms and look so clean and neat and happy. Everything is transported on people's backs and everyone we pass on the trail have baskets full of food or water that are perched on their backs with a strap that wraps around their heads to keep the weight distributed evenly. Arthritis is unheard of here and I cannot imagine why. It is nothing to see a person in their 70's pass me on the trail with 50 lbs. on their backs. Boyd, it makes our hikes look pretty Mickey Mouse!

We got up at sunrise and climbed to a lookout point to watch the sun rise over the snow capped Himalayas. Apparently, they have been covered in smog and have not been seen in a couple of months. They cleared off just for us and we watched a spectacular sunrise. I just knew that it would. When we arrived at the top, there was already a group of 8-10 year old boys waiting there for their Tae Kwon Do instructor. We were treated to watching their morning workout. Up until then I assumed that these people did not have as much as us. Silly me! Imagine doing your workout to a sunrise over the greatest mountain peaks in the world!

Potter's Square

We visited a great spot this morning. The ideal spot for me! It was a square where the potters, weavers and paper makers live. I guess they would be called the handicraft caste. Our guide has sensed that we are not interested in seeing any more temples or stupas and has created a tour that he thinks will be of more interest to us. He arranged for me to make a pot on one of the manuel potter's wheels, we visited and toured a paper making shop where the paper is manufactured from start to finish (pretty basic but I was happy to see the woman handling the dyes wearing rubber gloves), several weaving facilities (will upload photos later. Hilary, at least 10 women are crammed into a room the size of your studio with all of their looms and associated needs), and a group of women sitting knitting invited me to give it a try. I think they were expecting to have to show me how it was done and were rather surprised that I knew how. I am pretty sure that our guide thinks that I am low caste because I know how to do these things.

Katmandu

Who would have ever thought when I was doing grade 4 geography that I would ever get to the city that had the coolest name on the planet. I think I am going to like it here. The people here are so quiet and gentle. Very soft spoken and not at all in your face. Altho, Nepal is listed as the 10th poorest in the world, you would never say it. It certainly does not appear to be prosperous, but it does not have the same look of poverty that India has. It is heart breaking, tho, to see people going thru bags of garbage and making a lunch out of the scraps that they find. Dogs, cows and goats are going thru the same garbage but they seem to be at peace. They don't fight with one another over the good bits... very civilized. I realize that we have people going hungry in Canada, but at home we have social programs and food banks. Here there is nothing. You make your own way.

The pollution here is the one thing that has shocked me. The Himalayas are surrounding the city but you cannot see them for the thick, brown smog. About 1/4 of the people here are wearing paper mouth or nose masks. The main cause of death here is respiratory. Pollution only began here in 1991. Up until then the air and water were clean. It only took 18 years to create something that appears to be irreversible. Smarten up and pay attention fellow Newfoundlanders.

And, what do you think of the electrical?

Developing Countries and Airlines

When we were in Peru and used the local airline, we fully expected to board a propellor plane and be handed a helmet and mask. We were more than pleasantly surprised. Jet Airways here in India, makes Lan Peru look like Mickey Mouse! Leg room, polite, well dressed stewards who aim to please and leather seats. Movies from ground to ground. The flight was 1 1/2 hours and we received free bar service and a full meal (free) and they were cleaned up by landing. Air Canada, live and learn!

Look at the leg room in this photo!!!!!!!

Leaving India

I am soooo looking forward to the second leg of our journey. Sean and I are off to Nepal by ourselves. Leaving our Rotary group and our Indian friends will not be so easy. We have made wonderfu, lifelong friends here.

Our group - Elias, our group leader. The teddy bear with the heart in just the right spot. Chris, quiet, calm Chris who has avoided stepping on any person's toes. Dianne and Boone, alias Thurston and Lovey Howell from Gilligan's Island. At first I could not figure out why on earth they would come on such a trip... they really do not seem the type. I can honestly say, tho, that I have not only learned to like them, but have developed a deep fondness for Dianne. She is all right! Then there is Cassandra or Chahalka Cass. She has been likened to the Pied Piper of Hamelin. She always has a slew of kids in tow. Linda, our fellow Canadian, who I hardly got to know. She deserted us for the rat infested hospital to do massage therapy on the kids with polio for the next five weeks. Can't get much more 'giving' than that! And then there are Chrissie and Nancy. Mother daughter team. Soul mates for life. I will miss you two more than you can ever know.

As for our friends on this side of the world... there is Sanjiv our Rotary host here in India. Where can I start? Sanjiv is by far, one of the kindest, most gentlemanly souls I have ever met. He and his wife Jotsna, her sister Ollie and their daughter Pallavi have made our stay here one I shall not easily forget. They took us into their home, fed us and cared for the sick without ever so much as a cross word. Their kindness to all of us has been overwhelming. And then their is Diwan. I need a whole page to talk about Diwan. He walks softly but leaves a big print. When he brought Sean and I to the airport he met us with chocolate bars and a gift wrapped package for Jess and Zack. I wish I could bring him home with us. I am sure he was a prince in his last life.

Religion in India

Whether you are Hindu, Muslim or Buddhist, life centers around religion. The Imams of the Muslim religion have their first call to prayer at 5am. They ring the bells, sound a horn and then broadcast prayers over a loudspeaker through the whole community. And, any neighbouring communities. I can only compare it to Jesse's roosters of Osorno. I wish you were here, Jess, to write a poem. Only you could appreciate what I am talking about.

The Hindus have their 32,000,004 Gods of which we have seen the 4 at least a million times and the other 34 million at least once a piece. Hindus take their Gods very seriously. They go to temple at least once a day and often more than once. Some of these temples are on top of hills or mountains (closer to God) and they make the trek faithfully. Kind of like climbing Gros Morne twice a day to pray. They must be feeling AWFULLY guilty about something! Personally, if I see one more Shiva or Ganesh I am going to throw myself on the first funeral pyre I see!

And then there are the Buddhists (Nepal). Sorry, I have lost interest by now. I find it very hard to pay attention anymore. I do know that they, like the Hindus, believe in reincarnation. I used to think that coming back in another life was a good thing but now I realize that these people spend their whole lives worrying about what they will be reincarnated as.

The idea of Christianity is much more appealing. Die. Do straight to Heaven. Do not pass 'go' and do not collect $200.00. Besides, I have always wanted to learn to play the harp!

Ragu and Suresh

Suresh has been our bus driver for two weeks. Ragu is the spotter - porter. A driver needs a spotter because you need at least two sets of eyes to drive in this country. Drivers are out for themselves. If you come to an intersection and there are four directions of traffic, all four surge into the center with the cars behind them pushing into the open spaces, all blaring their horns at once till traffic is blocked solid. Nobody will give in. I missed the best traffic jam because I was pewking. It happened at midnite while the group was on their way to Sanjiv's, our host's, for supper. They finally got back to the hotel at 3am.

Anyway, back to the boys. While travelling, they sleep on the bus.... one step up from a school bus but a long cry from an CN bus. They have no washroom facilities and I have no idea where they bathe, but they are always clean and smell fresh. They hand wash their clothes every night. I know this because when I arrive on the bus first thing in the morning, I see the clothes laid out to dry. Ragu quickly covers them with a clean towel.

Ragu washes the bus inside and out every morning even though it will be full of dust within the first 5 minutes. You could never believe the dust here. I look more like Medusa than ever with my dust caked hair.

Suresh is paid. Ragu is not. He lives off of tips from the tourists. Tips are split, 2/3 for Suresh, 1/3 for Ragu. the going rate is 100 rupees per day per passenger. That works out to $2.50 U.S per day. That works out to $35 dollars for two weeks and Ragu only gets about $12.50 of that. Two weeks pay, boys and girls. They are considered to be doing well for themselves.

These guys never seem to leave the bus. They have to stay close by because they have to watch our packs. When we stop on the highway ( I use the term 'highway' loosely) they have to go to the toilet and take their tea in the servants area. They cannot have their meals or their tea with us.

And they say their is no caste system in India. The caste system is still very alive and healthy... don't be fooled.

Taj Mahal

Highly over rated! Sorry to have to tell you that Bernie and Stew!

Indian Cooking

Sean and I did a cooking course today. Here are a few recipes for you to try.

Jeera Aloo

Heat a frying pan to very hot. Fry up some cumin seeds in hot oil or ghee, just for a minute. Add some preboiled potatoes that have been cut up into bite sized pieces and fry for another couple of minutes. Add chilli powder, turmeric and salt to taste. Fry for another minute or so and then add some cilantro leaves and some chunky chat masala (substitute Garam Masala). Makes a great appetizer or serve with the next dish.

Dahl Fry

Heat oil in a heavy pan. Throw in some cumin seeds and flick around for a minute or so. Then add chopped ginger and garlic and flick some more. Add chopped red onion and fry till golden brown. Add some (not too many) chopped green chillies, chopped tomato, chilli powder salt and turmeric. Have some preboiled lentils ready to throw in (about 1/2 cup unccoked) and add some chopped cilantro. Then add some garam masala. This is the main base for Indian cooking so instead of the lentils you can add some chopped, raw meat. If opting for the meat you must add a small amount of water and steam for about 20 minutes.

Sorry I cannot provide better measurements, but it is like everything else in India... you just fly by the seat of your pants.

Ranthanbore National Park

Two safari's. No tigers. I knew that, tho. I willed myself not to see any. I just couldn't do that without Zack. The tents we slept in were a great consolation prise, tho. I want those the next time I do the long range.

Garbage

Ma, have I got a project for you! You could never believe the garbage. People drop garbage everywhere. That does not mean that they drop gum wrappers or cigarette packages... it means that there do not appear to be any dumps. Household garbage is everywhere. In our hotel in Sohna, where we stayed for the week we were in Chahalka,they emptied our garbage pail over the balcony. People deffacate on the side of the road in full view of everyone. I have photos to post and will do so when I get back to Katmandu. Not sure you will want to see them but it sure is an eyeopener.

Girl Children

There is a bulletin board in the hospital here... ' Keep your girl children.' Abortion, altho illegal, is widely practised here. Girl children are a burden to the family. Not only do they leave and become the property of the husbands family when they are 12 or 13, but they take a handsome dowry with them. I am glad I did not have that kind of pressure to deal with. Imagine life without our Jesse. Zack, keep your evil comments to yourself!

Saris

A sari is a longpiece of fabric that is wrapped around a woman to form a dress. The end of the fabric is tucked into your underclothing. One wrap and it is tucked in again. The piece is brought to the front and folded accordian style four or five times and tucked in again. The end is then brought up over the shoulder and left to hang loosely down the back. What I want to know is why, when you accidently step on the hem while a woman is moving, she does not unroll like toilet paper?

Rickshaw

We took a ride thru Old Delhi this afternoon. They say that a picture is worth a thousand words so how can I, with my very limited vocabulary, ever expect to convey this experience to you, the reader. The streets are very narrow with just enough room for two rickshaws to pass. There are shops on both sides with people standing outside doing business with the vendors. The rickshaw drivers are running as fast as they can between the people. Throw a few motorcycles into the fray and you have a symphony of chaos! I know that our driver took out a few pedestrians heels. We also got caught on the edge of a few wagons bringing us to an abrupt stop. The best part was when a transvestite copped a feel off of Sean during a traffic jam. Poor Sean, his eyes turned into saucers and he just keep looking straight ahead!

The Sacred Cow

In the Hindu religion, the cow is sacred. This happened about 5000 years ago for sociological reasons. The cows were being killed for meat but needed for milk. the priests of the time declared them sacred to keep then in production.

To watch these girls roam anywhere they want and do anything they want is mind boggling. The owners set them adrift in the morning and they saunter thru the market stealing any food they choose. The shop keepers just ignore them because they are sacred. They wander the highways as tho they own them. When the sun starts to fade in the evening sky they find their way home for the night.

Crossing the Road in Delhi

Do you remember the game called 'Chicken' that you played as a child? That should give you some idea of what it is like trying to cross the road in Delhi, except that 'Chicken' is much, much safer. I must have displayed my trepidation my first time because Chrissy, my well traveled friend took it upon herself to explain to me how it is done. You just hold your breath and step off the curb and using every ounce of willpower that you can muster, you propel yourself forward. The oncoming vehicles anticipate your next step and plan the swerve around you. Doing it at night adds a degree of difficulty. If you hesitate, you are lost.

Life in India

While visiting the home of a local woman in Chahalka, I noticed a baby goat curled up in the hay. It had been born disabled the day before. I watched it try to drag itself to it's mother to nurse while it's twin skittered around helping itself. Nobody helped the poor little thing. It will die. Such is life in India. The strong will survive. The weak will die or wish they had.

Photos

We finally added some photos. Almost caused a divorce so I hope you appreciate them. Sean gets so crabby when I don't catch on after the third explanation!

The hole versus the toilet

Sean can have his South American bidets but I am holding out for the trusty old hole in the floor. When you think about it, gravity forces all things downward, our chins, our eyelids and of course, our bowels. When you squat over a hole in the floor, you are in the natural position to let loose. I hope I am not offending anyone. The big bonus, tho, is that they are hygienic. You don't have to touch anything that anyone else did. Here in India where the word 'dirty' has a whole new meaning for me, it certainly gives me an added measure of comfort!

By the way, this is the toilet in the hospital.

Village Women and Camels

This is not meant in any way to be an insult, but rather the highest of compliments. The village women are very similar to camels. They hold their heads high and face the world with dignity no matter how much shit they have put up with.

Leaving Chahalka

I have to admit. When I first came into this village a week ago, I wondered what in the love of God I had had gotten myself into. I really thought that it would take every bit of gumption that I had to stick it our. Funny what you can get used to. I have become quite fond of this village and it's people. Except for most of the men. They deserve an especially warm place in hell. Except for the nice guy who bought us all cotton candy and Chrissy's little brick layer. Oh, and Rockmudeen (phonetic spelling) the camel driver with the dead camel. He was sweet.

Now, instead of the piles of garbage everywhere, My eyes are drawn to the women in their green and blue and orange and pink saris, posture perfect (from years of carrying everything on their heads), against a bacdrop of beautiful blue sky and acres of yellow mustard. The colors dazzle the eyes. Instead of the dirty faced, snotty nosed children who are constantly demanding our glove, our cameras, our water.... everything they see.... I notice their brilliant smiles.

I have learned a lot about human nature here. We did not need to bring t shirts and soccer balls to make these people happy. All you need is a set of hands to show them clapping games or paper to make them origami. The gifts that we did bring only caused a riot when they were taken from the duffel bag. We had to hurry to the bus to avoid being mobbed. It was not a pleasant situation at all. There were not enough gifts for everyone and I am sure that when the village elders pass them out that they will not reach the correct hands. They will go to those that already 'have'.

Before the riot the community gathered us together and the women of our group were assembled with the women of the village while the men met outside with the males of the village. You cannot mix the two. We were presented with wonderful scarves to hide our hair and faces and the men were presented with turbans. Gifts from people I would have thought had nothing to give. I feel truly appreciated.

Grace

You have heard the words 'There but for the grace of God walks you or I.' Those words pack a whole lot of punch for me now. I hope the Hindus are wrong, because I do not want to come back if I have to walk in the shoes of the souls I have seen in this country!

NID - National Inoculation Day

Today we helped administer polio drops to the children of two new villages. Polio is very prevalent in India. You see victims in the street everywhere. They can be recognized by their useless legs. Some are lucky enough to have only one leg affected and can get thru life using crutches or canes, dragging the limb behind them. Others have both legs affected and pull themselves around using their hands. Remember, there are no social programs here to help the disabled. You help yourself or you die. I wish I could take a photo of one of these victims to publish on this blog, but it is just too up close and personal.

This disease is easily preventable with vaccines. Many parents will not allow their children to receive them because they think it is an attempt for us to sterilize their race. I guess when you are uneducated it is an easy enough thing to assume.

At lunch we went back to the local hospital where our meal was prepared for us. Now, ladies and gents, there was an experience. It was more like a dilapidated warehouse in downtown Toronto. It terrifies me to think that I may get sick here and end up using one of these facilities. Hopefully the black market (thanx, Bonny) antibiotics that Sean crammed down my throat on the airplane are still in my system. To paint a picture, as Sean and I were wandering thru the corridor in search of a washroom, a healthy sized rat leaped from a nearby closet, ran to the other side and then back again. I had already spent the morning in a rat infested alley with some women doing the NID so I was immune. Poor Seanie. He must have been in a cleaner part of town and had not built up his immunity.

Mourning

A child died in Chahalka today. She was the second child of a young couple. She was just 18 months old. She died of dehydration. Our team visited the home of the family to pay our respects, a chore no easier in this culture than in ours. Because we attract a mob wherever we go, we arrived at the house with about fifty people , mostly children, in tow. The family insisted on serving the 10 members of our team Chai and seemed honored to do so. By the time we left, I felt that our effort to ease the pain of the family was an exercise in futility. The mother kept her composure until we were leaving when she fell to the ground and started to sob.

Men in a Muslim Village

What can I say? The subject is far to broad for me to come close to doing it justice. I will paint one picture for you and maybe it will give you an idea. When we are working, everything we do is thru manual labor. The cement is mixed by hand and then passed from person to person, in bowls, till it reaches the bricklayers. Most of the people in the line are women and most are older than me. The Muslim men, dressed in their Sunday best, stand by and watch us and WILL NOT lift a hand to help. They stand there, leaning against one another, speaking Hindi and snickering. We have one young girl, Chrissy, who is just 24 and she has been the target since we arrived. They have been merciless in their taunting. To add insult to injury, they sometimes stand in our way so that we have to move around them with our load. A bowl of cement mixed with rock is not light. It is beneath these men to participate in such work. They live in a village where they are rotting in their own feces but are unable to lift a finger to help themselves. It is as much of an insult to me as a woman as I could have ever possibly imagined. From what I can see, the role of the Muslim man is to lie around all day and smoke the hookah.

The other thing that I notice about these men, both Hindu and Muslim, is that it is quite normal for them to show physical affection to one another. They walk around holding hands and fondling one another all of the time. It is almost sexual. It is perfectly acceptable in this culture but I must admit, I find it extremely disconcerting. Homosexuality is a no no in India, but I cannot imagine how this does not lead to sexual activity. They show more affection than most heterosexual couples in Canada. Ick!

On Being a Muslim Women

I have read all of the right books. I thought I had a good idea about what the life of a Muslim woman was like. I was wrong. Nothing, nothing could have ever prepared me for this! As my good friend Diwan says, 'A Muslim woman is the sandal on a man's foot.'

Women carry the water from the well on their heads, they gather dung into bowls and carry it back to their homes on their heads, they make the dung patties for fuel, they go into the fields and collect brush for burning, they carry the irrigation pipes from field to field and assemble them on a daily basis, they start having babies at the age of 12, they tend the animals which involves milking the cows and water buffalo... the list is endless.

Today several of the women of the village wanted to meet with the women of our group... a great honor indeed. We were taken to the home of one woman where there was a gathering of twenty or more. Through a translator they told us how much they appreciated what we were doing and urged us to finish quickly. A simple thing like using the washroom has become a momumental task for them. As the land is being bought up around the village, they have to go further and further into the fields for privacy. The women in out group have had a taste of how difficult this is. We have no washroom to use on sight and everywhere we go we have an entourage so we just have to hold it till we get back to the farm.

Girls, we do our share of complaining about women's rights and how far we have left to go. I think it is high time we stopped and looked back at the distance we have come.

The Project

Our group of ten Rotarians are here in Chahalka as part of Rotary's mandate to rid the world of polio. This begins with clean water. Three years ago when this particular project began the group built washing platforms for the women to use. Before this, they had been washing the water buffalo next to the well and all of the water runoff containing fecal coliforms would drain back into the well. The following year, a computer center and daycare were built and money was raised to outfit the center with about 20 computers. This year we are building toilets and showers at the edge of town.

When we arrived only the ditch was dug for the footing. In Chahalka there are no cement trucks that pull up to the structure and start pouring. Instead, a fifty year old, gaily painted tractor with a wagon full of bricks arrives and is unloaded by hand. The bricks are then passed, assembly line style to the ditches where they are mortared together one by one. The cement is mixed by hand and also passed, in bowls, person to person until it reaches the brick layers. Then, one by one, brick by brick, the footing is built. In this way the walls are put together piece by piece. We are constructing four walls for our part in the project. When the following group arrives, the next stage will begin. The whole project will be completed using manuel labour. There are no machines involved. A plumb bob is the most complicated tool we have!

Internet in India

Considering this is the IT capital of the world, I think the rest of us may be in trouble. It is VERY difficult to find a place where you can actually get online and you have to turn over your first born before you can. Sorry Jess! You have to give them a photocopy of your passport and have them take a photo of you which costs money before you can get close to using a machine. The hotels are worse because none of them seem to have a reliable connection. I guess I will post the rest of my blog when I get to someplace where they will actually let me use a bloody machine. We are still alive tho, and Sean's bowels are just fine.

Chahalka

The village that we are working in has approximately 750 families. Each family has, on average, nine children. Their homes are built of brick or large stones that are mortared together. Some homes just have loose rock stocked into walls, enough to give them privacy. There are no bathrooms and most are just one or two open rooms. They have mud floors and the furniture consists of a few cots made from rope woven across a wooden frame. The cooking is done on an open fire using dried dung as a fuel. There are water buffalo, goats, chickens and dogs roaming the village. People do not seem to understand the concept of a garbage receptacle and just drop their garbage where ever thy stand. There is garbage everywhere! I have never seen such squalor! But guess what? Everybody is smiling.

Tip

Forgot to say in the blog yesterday that Sean tipped the wheelchair driver a months salary!

Kim's Sick

What was I saying about the giant 'L' on my forehead? I drew the short straw this time. Must have eaten something a little off while trompsing around Time's Square in New York. About 2 hours into the flight I started ejecting things from all orifices. Four hours in I was praying for the terrorists to take it down and by the time I deplaned in Delhi it was in a wheelchair. Nothing quite like being sick at 35,000 feet. And, I was in the center seat of the middle row to boot. I finally curled up next to the loo and stayed their till they let me into first class. I'll stoop to just about anything to get one of those hot wipes. I really can't find anything good to say about the stewardesses on Continental. There was one decent one. She took sympathy on me because she gets airsick. Can you believe that?

The first couple of days are a blur. The two hour bus ride to our accomodations (I won't call it a hotel because that would be misleading you) was hell. By the time we got there I was throwing up stuff left from Christmas. I was really down to the bottom of the barrell. After returning to bed from the bathroom for the 106th time that niteI heard Sean in his squeakiest voice saying 'India, she says. I want to go to India. Let's go to India.' It has become his mantra for the trip.