A lot has been going on, and I admit that I’ve been slacking on the blog. After the stranger-under-the-bed incident, I moved from Adyar (Shastri Nagar) to a new apartment in T. Nagar. I’m now sharing a three bedroom apartment, with 7 other interns ranging in age from 19 to 32 (that would be me). In our room, you’ll find Michelle and me in a double bed, and Neil in a single. I went from sharing a nice home with Kodiak to having 1 female bedmate, 2 roommates, and 5 housemates. It’s threes company, without any blondes but with some Real World: Chennai and Survivor thrown in.

Since we moved places its been one misadventure after another in dealing with our landlord. When I first arrived in the apartment (last week! seems so long ago!) the young housecleaning guy would sleep in the living room every night, having loud cell phone conversations, occupy the washing machine with laundry for people that didn’t live here, and do some light cleaning here and there. We had little control over who entered and left the apartment, since we only have one front door key for the lot of us. Then we had a little dispute with the landlord over some workers drinking up all of the guys’ whisky (and eating our food and taking someone’s hairdryer and people's clothes disappearing), which of course he insisted couldn’t have happened. After all, the company’s name means “trust” so how could something go wrong? [Keep in mind that this is the same man that manages the apartment building that we moved out of. He also insists that there was no man under my roommate’s bed.]

So now nothing's happening. No trash being taken out, no bathrooms or floors being cleaned, no drinking water being brought in, and they even took away the starter that you need to get the stovetop to work, so we can’t cook. It may all sound like a lot of bellyaching, but drinking tap water isn't a great idea – you should boil it if you want to use it, which we can’t do because the starter is gone. And there’s nowhere for us to put the rapidly accumulating trash of eight people, because the apartment building doesn’t have a dumpster. What to do?

Hey hey, ho ho, 377 has got to go!

Yesterday we marched in first-ever Chennai LGBT Pride Parade. Although India has a long history of socially and religiously recognizing more than two genders, sexual minorities are still discriminated against and can be prosecuted under Section 377 of the penal code (a hold-over from those restrictive Victorian-era British mores).



I made my way down to Marina Beach with Michelle and Fatima (roommates) and Juhi (a co-worker) to the beginning of the at the Triumph of Labor statue. A small crowd of marchers was gathered, surrounded by a larger crowd of reporters for all manner of media. It took a while to get started – especially because every few feet a row of cameramen would stop the crowd to take shots and interview marchers. The heat was unbelievable at 4pm, but the crowd was enthusiastic and everyone had a great time. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Would the onlookers be supportive, or jeer to marchers or worse? There were quite a few gathered just for the curiosity of watching the march, but most seemed to me to be positive towards the group. I did my best to repeat that chants in Tamil, and show my support for equal rights.







I'm borrowing a few shots here from the lovely Michelle. See more of her great shots here.





I love the man peeking out from under the right corner of my umbrella in this photo

This weekend, John, Ryan and I took an overnight train to visit Mysore in the state of Karnataka. It was my first overnight train trip since a European vacation in the summer of '95 (or was it '96?) and I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. We got bunks in the AC 2nd class, which was fairly comfortable since I got a top bunk. A man named Uday was also booked in our section. He happened to be from Mysore and gave us some tips on what to see in the two days we had available, and sketched out a rough map of the sights for us. An hour or so after we left the Central Chennai railway station a porter brought sheets and blankets to our bunks and everyone got ready for bed. I cozied into my top bunk and tried to read a history of India and then dozed off.


Anyone read Tamil?




Mysore is about 500 km west of Chennai; I think they slow the train route down so that you arrive in the morning, rather than the middle of the night. I woke up about an hour before we arrived, in part because I’m just slightly too tall for the bunk. As people walked up and down the aisle to reach the bathroom, they would brush my toes ever so slightly. A creepy, creepy feeling. I tried to curl up enough for my toes to be out of reach, which didn't work so well. So I got up and walked down the car to the open door to watch the countryside go by.

We reached the train station and walked down to the main road to find some breakfast and directions. We sat down at a local place and had masala dosa and a nice coffee for breakfast. John had laid out a bit of an itinerary for us to see temples in Srinangapatnam. I’m not up on the history of the temples, the Mysore battles led by Tipu Sultan and his defeat by the British, but John did great write up on his blog [here].





Kids playing in a dungeon that formerly housed British soldiers


The autowallah's shy daughter

Mysore is at least 10 degrees cooler than Chennai, so we decided to go enjoy the breeze on a rooftop restaurant with a tall, cold kingfisher. Ordering a beer at a restaurant in Chennai is a bit trickier. I think the city's conservative character makes liquor licenses somewhat difficult to come by, and women don't commonly drink either. [More to come on adjusting to gender roles in later posts.]

The next morning we got up early to climb the 1000 steps to a shrine on Chaumundi hill, visited the bizarre Godly museum, saw more shrines and temples, went to the Maharajah’s palace and checked out some market stalls. Sunday night we took the overnight train back to Chennai. Three bunks each made for a slightly less comfy ride home than the ride there, but we made it back in one piece. I think my next weekend trip will be to Pondicherry – the small French outpost a few hours away from Chennai. Cheese! Wine! Yay!

A few photos from the Mysore trip are below, and more are on my flickr photostream.


The Maharajah's palace at night

Chaumundi Hill




Cows selling sodas and water


Selling dry paints in the market

On the move, again.

I had my first taste of Chennai night life on Wednesday night. Hamsa had a small going away party. We went to a hole-in-the-wall Bengali restaurant for dinner, where we were informed (afterwards) that we were eating all wrong. It was my first time to eat a thali (rice and assorted sauces and things to go with it) with my hands, so I was slow and messy. A little bit like a toddler learning to eat again! We were informed after the meal that we’d gone about eating it all wrong. Oh well, I'll have plenty of time to practice.

Afterwards, we went dancing at bar in a hotel near my office. It was salsa night, and we had a great time dancing with some of the guys there and drinking Kingfisher (a famous Indian beer). I’m terrible at following in couples dancing, but my partner was very, very patient. Just before midnight, the lights promptly went on (closing time for bars in Chennai), and Hamsa’s friend drove me home. A very wholesome night out.




Trying to follow his lead... badly


Dance-off between a local salsa instructor and Chennai's own Sock Hat


The Shot Drinker - for the Chennai division of Team Sweet

I arrived home at midnight, and the housecleaner (who sleeps on our floor in the living room) let me in. [We only have one front door key for the six of us; I’m working on changing that situation. If I lock the door from the outside, then anyone in the house is locked in – which seems like a fire hazard, no?] So I went about getting ready for bed. While I was washing my face, I heard some screams outside and then I heard voices in the living room. I thought everyone was asleep, so I went to see what was going on. Apparently, those screams had come from my housemate, in her room opposite the hall. She woke up to find that a man was underneath her bed. She started screaming – and he started screaming, too – as he unlocked her bedroom door and let himself out of the apartment. Zarasp called the logistics coordinator from our office (who has been managing the housing arrangements) and he came over to find out what was going on, as did the caretaker, and the building owner. I stayed up until 3:30 am explaining what had happened, at which point I was exhausted and needed to get to bed.

Aside from the obviously unsettling incident itself, its frustrating to be in a new place and have no idea how best to handle a situation like this. In Uganda for example, I'm not sure that I would file a police report about this, knowing that it might create a lot of trouble for the housecleaner (and maybe jail while being interrogated), potentially far out of proportion to what had actually occurred. I have no idea how these things work here yet, and whether calling the police is "the right thing to do". That's a weird thought for someone who grew up in a place where you would automatically call the police.

Our host organization promptly moved us, so now I'm staying within walking distance of the office as opposed to a 30 minute autorickshaw ride, and am sharing with 7 housemates. Triple rooms all around - like being back in college, eh?

I hear the adhan from this mosque near my house several times a day. Some people complain and think its too loud, but I think its kind of soothing to listen to while I wash my clothes in a bucket at night. I think we're supposed to have laundry service included in our caretaker's fees, but it takes forever and come back smelling weirdly. So for now, I have my nightly routine of washing the dust and dirt of the day off, and washing my clothes in the bathroom. And to think a month ago I was complaining that the laundromat next to our house had closed!


I won't continually nostaligize Uganda, but hearing the adhan also reminds me of the radio piece I worked on last year with Mikkel. (See the post here.)

About 1/3 of all malaria cases in Tamil Nadu occur in Chennai, so while I’d rather not take malaria prophylaxis for 6 months, it really does seem necessary. I took Lariam for my first four months I lived in Uganda and then quit since the risk of malaria in Kampala was lower, and I felt awful. I couldn't be sure that the blue moods, headaches and eventually facial numbness was because of the lariam (or if it was partly due to uprooting myself and moving to another continent far from my loved ones), but I had easy access to treatment so I thought I'd be alright without the prophylaxis.

This time around, I had few affordable choices but to take Lariam, so I’m hoping that things go better than in 2007. So far, I’m just having unbelievably vivid (but still pleasant) dreams. Here’s hoping they stay happy, bright and beautiful and that the numbness stays away!

Things I’m noticing around town:

Most of the houses in my neighborhood have chalk drawings of various designs fresh on the doorstep each morning. It seems to be some sort of Hindu blessing.


Ladies set up tables on the street with freshly plucked, unbloomed flowers in heaps in front of them. They weave them together into strings, which women put in their hair. The jasmine strands smell amazing!

The many uses of a bicycle frame – bike powered goods cart, hand pedaled bikes for people without use of their legs, regular transportation (way too dangerous and daring for me!) for a few people, soda carts and so on.

Rush hour is absurdly hectic. After taking a bus to work that was more crowded than this one, I think I'll probably be taking the more comfortable but less economical autos from now on.

School girls in uniform in the foreground

Tons of varieties of mangoes and bananas, limes both sweet and sour, plums smaller than a ping pong ball, pomegranates, and football-esque watermelons. What is a soppatta? Or muskmelon?

Face creams and beauty products of many varieties for men and women that claim to lighten your skin. Does anyone really think that commercials and ads selling “white beauty” is ok? Some of the countries biggest movies stars, like Shah Rukh Khan, are selling this stuff!

The Chief Minister of Tamil Nadu State is apparently a former movie star - hence the sunglasses in all photos?


Weird safety advisories using Mr. Potato head to convince you to not drink and drive (I have yet to figure out where I can get a drink in this town!), not to speed so that you "live to 100", make sure your home has a fire escape, etc.

I've had decent coffee here, but the cups are far too small! These (from my office) are about the size of a Dixie cup!

Today I met my third housemate, Ciai, a Japanese woman studying public health at Cornell. With John and Zarasp, I went down to the Theosophical Society, a sort of religious center founded in the late 1800s by an American Civil War veteran, with a Russian psychic, among others. Four of us crammed into an autorickshaw and made our way to the grounds, only to find when we arrived noon that the facility was closed to visitors between 10am and 2 pm. To bide our time, we walked down to Elliott’s beach. The scenery was beautiful, but the sand was blistering hot and there was little shade. The beaches here are more popular in the evening, when the sands have cooled and the sea breeze makes the beach feel more comfortable than the rest of this hot city.


We had lunch down around the beach shore. I haven’t been eating much, with the jet lag and adjusting to the heat, so I just had a bowl of “curd rice” - rice with yogurt, green chilies, and mint – and a glass of sweet lime juice. We did an little window shopping around, and then made our way back over to the Theosophical Society. The grounds were very park like, and the dry dust smelled like Southern California. Aside from the library filled with books of interest to scholars of different religious movements, one of the main attractions of the grounds is the world’s second largest Banyan tree. The Banyan has aerial roots, which makes this single tree appear to be a forest of trees.

After closing time, we headed down the road to find another autorickshaw willing to take the four of us. Along the way, I spotted this vendor and the bright golden color of the corn. They cover it with lime juice and chili – which makes the spices the best part of this maize-like corn. Although its called “American corn”, its not very juicy, and not very sweet.

Once we got back home, I decided to investigate the kitchen, to see what kind of tools we have available and what I might want to pick up to start cooking. In the bottom drawer, I found a huge lizard working to keep the roaches in check. Made me feel like I was bag in Uganda again. I’d missed the house lizards!

For dinner, the four of headed to a Japanese restaurant up on the of main roads. (I have yet to learn the names of any of the roads other than mine, and our cross streets, but hopefully tomorrow I will buy a map book.) We shared some Japanese pickles and a fish appetizer, and John wowed us with his knowledge of Japanese. Weirdly, they’d left a Japanese magazine on the table. Perhaps they expect people to have boring dinner companions? My udon was pretty good, but I’m hoping that another restaurant in the city might have more interesting sounding sushi options. I don’t know that flounder and grouper are really going to do it for me!

We caught a bus home instead of a rickshaw, which is a much cheaper option if you know which one to get one. Only 3 rupees per person! The bus was full of women on their way home, and the scent of the jasmine flowed through the air as the bus picked up speed, carrying the scent off the flowers in the hair. Heavenly....

Apparently the cold soba noodle wasn’t enough for Ciai, so we stopped at a food stand to get her a dosa, a bread-like pancake with sauce. I was too full to have one myself, but the bit I tried was tasty like sourdough bread, so I’m sure that I will be back! We bought bananas and papayas from a street vendor, and then made our way home. John had bought a carton of mango ice cream, so we all enjoyed a bowl and Ciai, Zarasp and I hung out in the living room talking until the power went out. Now I’m really wishing that I’d had the energy before I left NYC to climb up into the closet to retrieve my headlamp from inside our tent, because now I’m without and writing this in the dark in my bedroom which is rapidly heating up without AC or a fan! I guess that means that its bedtime.

Welcome to Chennai

Gnome from home, and a new guy I found in my room

I arrived in Chennai after about 24 hours of travel at 1am. It was so hot outside that I began dripping sweat as soon as I stepped outside with my luggage. I looked up and down the line for my taxi, but the only promising one was holding a sign for "Gaprielle" from IFMR. I waited a while and decided to try to figure out if I was in fact Gaprielle. (I figured that I probably was, but had no idea what IFMR was, and would feel really bad stranding somone else at the airport). I spent who knows how much money on a phone call to Kody to figure out which company was supposed to be picking me, and we were off to my new digs.

Arriving at my apartment, I realized that I wasn't sure which unit I was supposed to be in. Eventually we figured it was the ground floor, and one of my new roommates, John, answered the door. Unfortunately, all the bedrooms were locked so we had to call the caretaker over from another property to let me in. An hour later I was all checked in and finally got to sleep. So the adventure begins!

Resurrecting the blog

Tomorrow I leave for six months in Chennai, so I'm resurrecting the blog to share some photos with my friends and family. I'm not quite ready to go again, having returned from Uganda less than a year ago, but it should be an incredible experience. I'll upload some photos once I arrive... wish me luck!

After a fantastic apartment-crawl going away party at our house in Brooklyn (some pics here; thanks Shayla!), Kody and I got up early to make the most of a beautiful Brooklyn day. We hopped on our bikes and took the greenway path down to Coney Island. I’m a little sad that so many of the storefronts are closed (yet to be redeveloped by real estate company Thor Equities), but Coney Island still has its good old-fashioned seediness. Who has ever played shoot-the-freak? It was the day of the Puerto Rican Day parade, and people were celebrating with dancing on the boardwalk, and boomboxes on the beach. We also took in some of the other sites: old Russian guys who spend all their days tanning (and have that beautiful leather glow), a goth trio that seemed out of place at the beach (especially “Goth Igor”), people hiding their beer bottles in plastic bags as they drank under the sun, and families playing at the edge of the water. Kody went down and put his head in while I napped. It was only when we took a stroll down the beach that we discovered that the beach was closed because of a sewage spill. Ewwwwwwww. Why aren’t the lazy lifeguards keeping people away from the water?

We took the water route to head home, riding under the Verrezano Bridge and along the edge the Brooklyn waterfront. It was my first time and I was kicking myself that I’ll have to wait another whole year to enjoy the path again! Once we made it home, K and I attempted to make sushi rolls. I think they didn’t come out too bad for my first time, although they’re not supposed to be three inches across, right?

My last weekend in Brooklyn was perfect. Thank you Kody and friends!