Rough Ideas

With possibly one noted exception, everyone here is after your money. I’ve been witnessing the most crude and subtle forms of manipulation and extortion, and this is all going on with no apparent shame.
Even when confronted, the few I did confront oppenly admitted that’s the way it works here. You’re a tourist, and being ripped off is some kind of rite of passage. Some of it isactually so big I refused to believe people would have the audacity and shamelessness to do it.

To me, the experience was utterly confusing. It becomes incredibly difficult to really understand the level of neediness, and make out the people desperate for help from those who don’t necessarily need it.

Fortunately the lesson only cost me around #25 in donations and over-spending. But that, for India, is a subtantial amount.

Since I have also been cheated out of a substantial amount of money at home at the same time, having not been paid my last salary, it raises the question of sustenance, big time.
I’m not sure why I always choose to trust people to the point where I’m a lot worse off. I seem to only see the good in anyone, till break point.

I guess I have a choice now, to learn this lesson. But still, distinguishing between what is actually going on and what I feel, is not something I’m good at, in all and any area of life, and I’m not sure how to learn to make a distinction.

I’m out of here tomorrow, and glad of it. Off to pack.

“A charming fishing village where you can hang out for days”…

Loads of tourists. Loads of French people. Totally different from the city! You can’t walk 3m down the street without being offered something - but sometimes you can. It’s a bit confusing to say the least, and it took me a couple of days to adapt to yet something different.
Money is everywhere, mostly in shortage, if that makes sense. Everything has a price, even though people are quite happy to let you walk off without paying if they know where you stay.
Strangers treat you like friends, but it seems that presupposes you will help them in some way, buy something perhaps.
But I think I’m at last feeling comfortable with the way things are here!

I’ve not really managed to talk to tourists, but I’ve spent a good few hours talking to the inn keepers. They’ve been really good to me, and I’ve enjoyed their company.
I was taken round the treasures of the town and explained the architecture. There’s a number of temples here, some of them, carved monolithic structures, all incredibly beautiful and of amazing architectural designs. (I won’t be doing them justice by a brief description, so check Category: Going to India! Travel Log  |  1 Comment

I still can’t put it on on my own. The cleaner helped me after I had taken it off to go swimming!

That’s not the silk sari, as I still don’t have the blouse - it’s an everyday sari.

I went to a department store a bit like Littlewoods and C&A rolled into one. A really lovely assistant took me in, helped me choose my sari, matching ready-made blouse and underskirt. We went to the till, I paid, then she grabbed a friend and the two girls took me to the fitting room to dress me. Then they took me upstairs and chose for me really shiny jewellery (REALLY shiny!!). They painted my nails right there between the aisles. And put rings on my toes because I’m married. It was like a great celebration and everyone was full of friendly appreciation. Then the girls took me back downstairs, where we had our photo taken by the security who had a camera. He took one with mine too! Then I was introduced to more girls and finally, we parted effusively.

I felt again overwhelmed and walked a little along the road (the pavements are not really walkable here, everyone walks on the road).

After I recovered, I tried to get an auto to a park that’s in the guide book. But I didn’t have the book with me, and no one knew it. I ended up at the Ghandi Memorial. I asked the driver to wait, but instead he park his auto and escorted me, carrying my shopping….. We tried to talk a little, with little success as he only spoke Tamil.

But we were both happy.

I’m beginning to realy like Chennai. It’s a bit like Marseille. Just the traffic is not quite as mad there. With a good sense of play and a big grin, you can do more or less anything.
Travelling alone, I’m discovering how important
it is to talk to as many people as possible, not to feel isolated - and what wonderful fun that is!

The girls are getting ready for a meal after a long day so I might as well fill you in with today’s adventures!

The day started slowly. I got talking to the cleaners this morning, to get to learn a few words. It was great fun, and started the day with a good smile!

The plan was to visit a park South of the city. We’d all slept in and set off late on foot, after a trip to the local supermarket. It’s quite funny how the electricity fails on a regular basis, so you can’t see what you want to buy till it comes back on.

We walked along a very long street lined with shops and bazaars, taking our time to browse, then had a meal in what looked like the equivalent of the French Routiers: a quick stop for men to nourish themselves before returning to work. People eat standing around or sitting on one of the few plastic stools on the shop front. There’s a tap and small steel sink to wash on the outside wall, where the dishes are also done.
They were a bit puzzled, but we were welcome.

We walked further and meandered down side street, down what appeared to be a lower class, but not poor, neighbourhood. Banana leaves merchants, fruit merchants… They were friendly, and not at all demanding our cust0m like on the high street.

Further down we got accosted by a spightly elderly lady. She wanted to know where we came from and what we did there. She told us she was a retired school teacher, and owned those shops over there. She asked what god we worshipped. She worshipped Jesus, she said. We tried to learn a few more words of Tamil from her.
I’m struggling remembering so much, names of people, things and places… Had tea from a little snack shop, and set off again, only to realise we were too late for the park’s short opening hours.

So we diverted and went to the Marina Beach instead.
As we got closer, it got poorer. Right near the shore, houses were replaced by grim-looking 4 storey-high housing projects…. A few people sarted asking for money.
The ocean was in front of us, beautiful and blue.
We carried on along the shore, and the blocks gave way to huts thatched with palm leaves.
The kids were made up to see us, and women on the doorsteps of their houses waived to us.

“Hello, what is your name?” “Hello how are you?” Again and again. One family wanted their picture taken. Kids were lined up and made to behave. Then they wanted to give us their address. We got talking, making them laugh with our eagerness to say all the Tamil we knew, so much so that we got invited inside for coffee.

I felt really honoured to share a little slice of their lives. We chatted and laughed for a long time… it turns out these families are Christian families from Kerala. The children are educated at the local Catholic school. In the end we were shyly asked to help with our host’s 5 year old son. We said we’d sponsor the school.

As we walked North, the huts disappeared. Instead, there were shelters of plastic sheeting on the beach… We got accosted for anything, pens, money, by people who were clearly desperate. Kids, young men, and a grannie holding on to me. Lots of eye problems.
We started to wonder how to get out of it, but the only way was onwards, pushing people away as kindly as we could. No. Ignore. No. Ignore.
Fortunately, we soon came to steps back onto the main street, via a quiet avenue with a very wealthy looking church… EJ took the opportunity of having less people around to peel oranges and give slices to the children, and grannies living on the pavement by the church.
To see the 2 grans so grateful for a slice of orange got straight to my heart.

When we finally got back to the main street and wealth, only a few paces away, I just wanted to cry…

But that’s the way it is here. And we walked all the way back to our rich people’s dwellings, and I had a hot shower in luxury.

I don’t know what to make of it all.

I noticed tonight though, that I was quite eager to leave the hotel and set off along the street alone, feeling a lot more confident than I had the last few days.

One more day in Chennai, on my own, then I head off South.

Arrived a little late, just after midnight. Getting out of the airport was nice and relaxed, even if it took a long time.

Not sure where to start after that…!
So much has happened already. EJ and Sophia picked me up and we were chauffeur driven to her boss Vesanthi’s house where we are to spent the night. At nearly 2am, the city is still quite busy, it’s humid, there’s people sleeping on the street, potholes. Salaman doensn’t understand where he’s supposed to take us, but in the end we get there, which gives me a little extra tour! The bed is spacious enough for 3, but because everyone is asleep we don’t know where we can find water to wash. Fortunately, I have wet wipes and the next morning we are told where the working tap is, so we can fill the washing bucket in the bathroom.

First trip: we are taken by Vesanthi to Kanchipuram to buy silk saris for EJ and Sophia who have to attend a wedding. She gives instructions to the shop keeper and leaves us there. We’re given coffee and spend a good hour touching and choosing amongst many dozens of saris.

Then we get an auto rickshaw to one of the three huge temples there and get an educational tour even though we don’t want one, and tourist blessings in 3 shrines, dedicated to a deity each. Blessing is by donation.
The real religion happens in a place where only Hindus are allowed.
The auto was instructed to wait and takes us back to town, where we have a “meal’ in a ‘hotel”. This means we are eating with the locals in a street cafe. And the bus back to Chennai.

We’re hadly in town that we are phoned to go to Vesanthi’s daughter in law, so she can sort out the tailor for the blouses.

I get measured up for a sarwar too, and the whole tailoring, lined sari blouse and sarwar will set me back RP185. We’re going to pick them up tonight.

Again, I am staying with EJ and Sophia at their hosts. They live in a modern house, with Western fittings. There is hot running water, into a bucket.

Today I’m tired. I’ve been left to roam around alone, and struggle a little. I don’t want to venture very far today, I feel a bit dosy. I find a Western cafe till the shops open, then have a meal in a local self-service. Food is wonderful. I can order more or less anything knowing I can eat it, as everything is vegetarian. And it tastes so good….

Later I checked in my hotel and had a kip. Very western. It has a shower!! It almost feels strange.

I noted the past day how out of place Westerners look, there’s so few of them. I imagine i must look just as exotic and stick out like a sore thumb, but I don’t really feel like that. When I looked down at my feet yesterday, waiting for a bus somewhere, it surprised me to see them so white… it looked odd.
I feel more nervous in the presence of Westerners. Making mistakes is ok when there’s none about…!!

I need to log off now and go to the Nokia shop to see if buying a local sim card will allow me to upload my moblog. Right now it’s not working.

Bye!

“It’s vile here!”
No worries, I reply, I’m going for adventure. And yes I’ll go for the less expensive of the two hotels.
“I’m serious - ”

Right.
I start to imagine a city straight out of a post modern film, hot, stinky dirty, Bollywood style.

It’s Monday, one week to go, and I still feel the ache in my arms from the jabs.
I’m not sure if work got to me or the jabs messed it all up a little more - one thing is certain, nasties send me bonkers. I know that from bitter experience.

I marched up to Trop Med and waited my turn, to explain that I lose it when I take drugs. The nurses looked kindly at me and I couldn’t help wonder how much they thought I was making it up… “What about alcohol?” (Well that’s ok! But strange things do happen that I’d rather not describe for them)…
- I know when to take it and when not to. Same with caffeine. I know when to take them to my advantage. I use that. With things like jabs and malaria tablets, I can’t choose when to take it. That’s why I’m concerned.
-We’ll call the doctor.

The doctor explained that nobody could force me to take anything, and at the end of the day, it was my decision.

My decision was to spend £12 on 4 Malarone tablets, to try them and, more to the point, to show willing! As if anyone needed my willingness.
Malarone is the latest and dearest form of Malaria prophylaxis. There are less reported side effects. At £3 a tablet, my trip would set me back by £130.

I walked out, clutching my zipped plastic bag with the little white cardboard box inside…. My body saying ‘no way, girl, no way, you’re not going to swallow that!”
But, at least I went and saw.

Later that day, more research begins.
It seems homoeopaths don’t agree. From what I gather from my quick scan through googled pages, orthodox homoeopathy treats the person, as usual, and doesn’t advocate any prevention treatment.

I decide to go with my intuition, and stumble on a page that feels right.
Demal 200. I speak to the UK distributor, in Southport. He tells me malaria tablets are only prescribed in the rich Western world… He couldn’t get them, working in Malaysia as an engineer, and his colleagues told him about this product. It was so good he became a distributor.

Weighing everything, I decide that’s the product I want to go with, plus a second to deal with viruses, in particular dengue fever.

Tamil Nadu is not a hotspot for malaria. One page shows a dramatic drop. It’s pink on the hotspot map. The more I look, the more products feel the right way to go.
As for the Malarone, I may as well flog it on eBay. But till I do, it’s free to a good home.

One week to go, and I still haven’t got a clue.
I can point where I’m going on a map, and I have vague ideas about the currency, temperature - and the power sockets! I heard stories from those who went there, but that’s about it.
I have got a plane ticket, a passport and visa, and nasty antibodies floating around in my blood. Now what else do I take?
Time to stop formatting this blog and to start reading my Rough Guide for a few tips…
My guess though, is no matter what I read, nothing can prepare me…!
Like Martin says, just go there and see.