Pictures are Up

I've finally uploaded the rest of the pictures, so here are some of the more memorable photographs from our trip.

Kumarakom's Lazy Backwaters

Dixie and I don't usually agree on things, but this one is a no-brainer: we've never been to a place like Kerala before. Every stop we make has a totally different ecosystem than the last. The final leg of our trip, which brought us to the famous backwater region of Kerala, was no exception.

The shores are dotted with resorts, but it's not so developed that you can't imagine what it must have been like before the locals decided to open their doors to tourists. In fact, as we were being paddled around the backwaters, we were treated to a good dose of village life. As in Venice, boating on the canals is a major means of transportation here. Unlike Venice, the waters are also used for bathing, washing and fishing.

On the morning of our second day in Kumarakom, we made a trip to the Kumarakom Bird Sanctuary. As at Periyar Lake, the wildlife continued to conspire against us: we could hear the distinct calls of many different birds, but see only a handful of birds in the canopy above. This is the difference between a zoo and a wildlife sanctuary, I told myself, and all in all, this is a good thing.

After a couple hours on foot, we decide to try our luck on boat. Actually, we met a ranger who scoffed at our attempt to view the birds from inside the forest. He said we'd get a better look from the water as the birds left the trees to feed on the fish and insects in Vembanad Lake (India's longest lake), and without pausing for our reaction, he called an oarsman who was paddling down a nearby creek over for us (yes, it was really that easy). 

He was right...it was much better to be back on the water. From the lake, we could watch the birds circling above the canopy and then leaving in flocks as they set off across the lake. The larger birds, cormorants and herons, were easy enough to identify. Ornithologically speaking, it was pretty cool.

Thekkady and the Periyar Wildlife Preserve

Dixie and I were reluctant to leave Munnar, but time was tight and we still wanted to see the Periyar Wildlife Reserve at Thekkady and the backwaters at Kumarakom. Biju, still softspoken after 2 days with us, took us down the slopes to Thekkady. We passed a number of spice plantations and stopped at a small roadside store to use what was probably the cleanest bathroom south of Mumbai. There we were interogated by a 10 year old boy named Sachin (last name not Tendulkar, I confirmed), who thought it was ridiculous that we had come all the way to Kerala only to spend a day or two at each place. We pretty much agreed with him.

Our day in Thekkady was packed. Our first stop was to a small trail on the edge of the sacruary's forests. There, Dixie and I hopped onto the back of a very mellow male elephant for a short ride. Our guide asked for my camera so that he could document the ride. It turned out that our guide was both an adept photog and a master at getting our elephant to stop and pose with his trunk up. However, like most South Indian men, he wore a loincloth wrapped around his waist instead of pants, so I was a but disconcerted when I noticed that the camera wasn't in his hand anymore ("does that thing have pockets?").


After a somewhat underwhelming visit to a private spice garden, we headed to the sanctuary to ride a boat across the Periyar lake. The boat is supposed to be the best way to see wildlife in the park, but expectedly, catching glimpses of wildlife is hit or miss. Unfortunately, the boat followed the same path as it has countless other times, so most animals have probably started to avoid those areas. It also rarely went close enough to the shore for us to really get a great look. I had asked Biju to join us, but he refused -- not out of overpoliteness, but because "it's boring". Still, we managed to see herds of bison, deer and a couple wild boars. The other passengers, who had been oversold into thinking they'd see tigers were understandably disappointed.

After the boat trip, we raced to our hotel to check in and get some Ayurvedic massage treatment. Though the treatment was fairly relaxing, it left my head and back coated with some sort of herbal oatmeal. I hardly had a chance to rinse it off before we hurried to our last stop of the day: a night-time Jungle patrol.

Our party included two other couples, a forest guide and a rifle-carrying ranger. Having the gun-toting guard, combined with the waivers we signed (will not sue if mauled by tigers), made us wonder what we were getting into. What we were getting into was in fact a routine patrol that the rangers do every night to look out for poachers (of wildlife and the valuable snadlewood trees that the forest is home to). We were handed flashlights and set off at 7pm, just after the sun had completely set and we were scheduled to end at 10pm. Even though we were only walking several kilometers on the sanctuary's perimeter, our pace was slowed by the lack of visability (we had to keep the flashlights off most of the time) and by our frequent halts to scan the surroundings with flashlights for wildlife. Again, we saw deer and boars, but also got to hear the sound of the jungle at night. I'll admit it was a unique experience, even if the waivers and rifle proved unnecessary.

Munnar

Once we got far enough away from Cochin, we started to get glimpses of fog-covered mountains and lazy rivers. These were the same images that caught our attention in the National Geographic magazine article that persuaded us to arrange this trip to Kerala.

It was well after dark before we finally reached Munnar. This worked out really well since we were totally surprised by the view that surrounded us when we woke up the next morning.

Munnar is essentially a hill station that developed during India’s colonial period when the British established tea plantations here. The tea plants, which actually form waist-high hedges, make Munnar’s hills bright green with a look as if someone ran a comb over them. We stopped at a tea museum, which had a running factory inside it, to see how tea is transformed from a green and decidedly non-tea-scented leaf into an oxidized, brown ball that represents the finest CTC (curled, torn and crushed) black tea. However, the most amazing step in the whole process occurs before the tea even reaches the processing plant. Plantation workers, typically women, scale the steep slopes to trim the endless rows tea plants (tea plants are one of the few crops in India that produce a product year-round). The women wear a thick rubber tarp like a skirt to protect their legs from the hedges and don’t seem fazed by the fact that their job seems more like rock climbing than agricultural labor.

After traveling to a number of scenic viewpoints, we ended our day by taking in a very small-scale Kathakali production. Kathakali is the main form of dance in the south of India, and it is marked by incredibly intricate costumes and equally intricate movements (all of which have very specific meanings). The show started at 6:30, but we arrived early to see the performers go through makeup and the setup of their costumes. The makeup is a thick face paint that completely covers the performers’ faces. The costumes take forever to put on, and I got to thinking that the costume was more complicated than it needed to be (in the same, ignorant way that lets me wonder why sarees need to be wrapped and re-pleated each time instead of just pre-sown so they are ready to slip on). In any case, between the costumes, the cacophony of the percussion instruments and the odd, almost scary expressions of the performers, I learned that Kathakali is probably my least favorite form of entertainment.

Cochin

We landed in Cochin, the former Portuguese port city of Kerala, yesterday after an overnight train journey to Mumbai and a short flight to Cochin. Getting a good night’s sleep in the sleeper coaches is hit-or-miss. I had a fairly restful night, but Dixie’s bottom bunkmate was a roof-kicker, whose fidgetiness gave her no peace. Still, as soon as we landed in Cochin, we were both ready to go.

We were met at the airport by our driver, Biju, and taken to a Chevy SUV (or “MUV” for “multi-use vehicle” in India). The accidental upgrade from the small Tata Indica we had booked was a pleasant surprise. Though English is more commonly spoken in South India than in Gujarat, Biju’s English was just passable enough for us to communicate.

Although we had planned to go directly to Munnar, we decided to spend the morning in Fort Cochin and Mattancherry. Fort Cochin sits on the Arabian Sea, or some in-land extension of it, and has a rich colonial past. The Dutch Palace and several places in Jew Town (that’s the official name) were closed because it was a Friday, so we headed to the northern harbor where fishermen use giant Chinese fishing nets to pull fish from the Arabian Ocean.

The Chinese fishing nets, or “Cheenavalas” as they’re known locally, are a tourist attraction of their own; so much so that fishermen continue to man the nets during the off-season in the hopes of getting tips from the tourists. The nets seem to be hoisted every 5-10 minutes, though the fisherman may have been pulling them up more frequently to give the tourists some more action. I chatted with a fisherman who showed me his team’s meager catch (5-6 fish, instead of the usual 50+). Thirty percent of the catch goes to the owner of the net, and the rest gets split between the five fishermen who man the net. Following our short discussion, he invited me to help raise the net (with a tip to follow, being implied). Despite the counterweights on the net, it still takes four fishermen (or three fishermen and a tourist) to pull up the net. For our efforts, we caught just one fish.

We left Cochin after lunching on some Keralan fish curry and iced and hot teas at an artsy and tasty restaurant called Teapot. Just like every other person at the restaurant, we found it through Lonely Planet .

Our drive to Munnar was a slow one, mainly because I kept asking Biju to pull over so I could snap photos. We made an impromptu stop at what turned out to be the Maharaja of Cochin’s former palace, and then later paused to soak in some spectacular views on bridges and mountain switchbacks. The area immediately outside of Cochin is developing rapidly. Large new houses and hotels are being built in the Spanish-style that defines many of the older buildings as well, and every other house seems to be newly built. It’s a sign that Kerala is trading in its reputation as a backpacker’s paradise.

Last days in Ahmedabad

I can't believe we're heading home in less than 2 weeks. I've only got 2 days left at CMF and 3 days left in Ahmedabad.

Dixie and I are heading to Mumbai on an overnight train on Wednesday night, and then on Friday morning, we take a flight to Kerala. Jamshed and Kersas Masa have helped us plan a really packed 5-day trip, but being the idiot that I am, I'm having a hard time looking forward to it since it marks the end of our India trip!!!

In any case, here's the plan:

- Fly into Kochi (Cochin) and go straight to the hill station of Munnar
- 20-22 in Munnar, seeing plantations, villages, waterfalls, etc.
- 22-23 in Thekkady, hopefully seeing plenty of wildlife at the Periyar Wildlife Reserve
- 23-24 in Kumarakom to boat on the backwaters of Kerala
- 24-25 back to Kochi to see the old fort city and spice trade center of Fort Cochin

*Aside: I'm distracted by a hawk that is trying to drive away a flock(?) of pigeons outside my window.

I think I'm going to need to back-fill this blog when I get back home. I've jotted down on paper a good deal more than I've been able to put up here. I've even fallen behind on uploading pictures because Picasa refuses to connect to the web on this laptop.

Boh Gharmi Lageh Cheh

The only thing that makes me even slightly ready to leave is the weather, which only gets hotter between now and May.

Dheroli and Chacher

Early on, I remarked that India was a land of extremes. A couple weeks ago, I saw Mumbai’s antithesis: the villages of Dheroli and Chacher. Despite the presence of a few tractors, most farming here is done the old-fashioned way: with bullock-pulled plows/carts and manual labor. The area is peaceful, picturesque and incredibly green.

To get there, Abhay (our project assistant) and I took a series of buses to Bordeli and then took a car for the last 30-40 kilometers. On the drive, we passed fields of cotton, castor and corn, acres of the greenest banana plantations, and a series of overloaded trucks, bullock carts and rickshaws. I was glued to the window and so absorbed in the scenery that I hardly noticed the lack of shock absorbers on our rented van or the blaring old Filmi music our driver insisted on blasting on his old cassette deck.
The main purpose of our trip was to meet with some of SEWA's members and conduct a few focus groups for the price information project. We wanted to learn how they’re using the futures prices we’re giving them to make their planting or selling decisions, and what we need to do to improve the program in subsequent seasons. On the price information project, not everyone participating would be considered poor, so there was some variety in the livelihoods of the people with whom we spoke. In fact, the largest farmer had almost 30 acres of land. Some of the homes in the village are mud huts, while the house where we held the Dheroli focus group was 200 years old and was owned by Prameenbhai, one of the larger and most experienced farmers. Despite the diversity in the group, each village seemed more like an extended family (and to some extent, it probably was).

Most of our questions centered on how farmers make their planting, growing, harvesting and selling decisions, as well as how the market is structured (places where they sell their crop, to whom they sell it and whether the process is an auction, private negotiation or something else). I've noticed that if I ask a yes or no question, people are reluctant to give a negative answer, perhaps feeling that saying 'no' would offend us. This is sometimes obvious when the 'yes' response is inconsistent with other things they've already said. There's some literature on this, which I won't get into.

Even though we asked them a continuous stream of questions for two hours, everyone was extremely gracious to us. Villagers came to meet us promptly, and of course, the tea flowed abudantly. The Sarpanch of Chacher village (the chairperson of the village's governement) told me "you are most welcome here anytime." Which is nice, since I might want to retire there one day.

Happy Birthday, Mom!!!

You must laugh now

This afternoon I gave a presentation on CMF and two of our current projects at a workshop hosted by Saath. The workshop was held at the Nehru Foundation, which has an amazing, green campus. I'd occassionally get distracted from the other presentations by a monkey that was sitting cross-legged in an eerily human manner, on a tree branch right outside the window next to me.

The presentations were in Hindi, Gujarati and English, though everyone made slides in English. This was my first time presenting with a translator and it made for an interesting experience. At times, the translator would paraphrase what I said and then translate what was on the slide. In a couple of cases, he actually got ahead of me. I wonder what exactly he was saying at times, as it didn't sound like what I had said.

All this reminds me of a story President Carter told when I heard him give a speech at Stanford back in 2003 or 2004. Shortly after leaving office, President Carter was touring some villages in Japan. He had some downtime during the visit and a local school approached him about speaking at their graduation. Not wanting to disappoint, Carter accepted and proceeded to craft his speech. After four years in office, Carter was used to giving speeches and having them translated. He was also aware that humor didn't always translate well, so he chose only one joke, which he whittled down to its most basic form.

At the graduation ceremony, President Carter gave his speech as planned. When he got to the joke, he listened as the abridged English version became even more brief when the Japanese translator recited it. The crowd roared with laughter -- a much better reaction than the joke had ever received before. President Carter was startled by the reaction and he approached the translator afterwards to find out exactly how he said it, so that he could improve the English version in the future.

At first, the translator was hesitant to say anything. Carter pressed on, eager to know how to ellicit such a positive response again in the future. Finally, the translator admitted, "When you told joke, I tell the audience 'President Carter said a joke. Everybody must laugh now.'"

Incensed!

It’s been a busy few weeks packed with several field visits to the Ahmedabad slums and villages in rural Gujarat. Something has been eating at me all week. And it isn’t whatever was in my bed at ‘Hotel Sketchy’ in Bordeli during my village visits last week.

It’s Shilpaben, a middle-aged woman who lives in the predominantly-Muslim slum of Juhapura on the southern side of Gujarat. To call Shilpaben a working mother would be quite the understatement. On top of working all day to provide for her family, Shilpaben helps prepare meals for some of her community’s most malnourished children as a member of Saath’s Jeevan Daan (literally “Gift of Life”) program. Just as a quick aside: Saath is one of the MFI’s that we’re partnering with, and their Jeevan Daan program helps mothers prepare more nutritious meals for their families, particularly by helping them understand which foods are both cheap and nutritious.

All day long, Shilpaben makes incense sticks, rolling them individually by hand. In a single day, she makes about 3,000 of them, which she sells to a wholesaler who packages them into boxes of 12 and then sells. For every 1,000 sticks that Shilpaben makes, the wholesaler pays her 12 rupees (about 25 cents), so she earns about Rs. 36 per day (75 cents). The wholesaler, on the other hand, sells boxes of 12 sticks for Rs. 10-15 (about 20-30 cents)…more than 70 times the price he pays Shilpaben!

As a result, Shilpaben is living on less than a dollar a day instead of potentially $50 per day (the price all 3,000 sticks at the wholesaler’s price). I’m both outraged and confused that a seemingly simple problem exists here (though of course I don’t know the whole story). Even if Shilpaben is a much better incense stick maker than incense stick saleswoman, isn’t there some amount of time she should spend trying to sell her sticks to consumers? Wouldn’t the incense sticks still fetch a good price if they were tied with a ribbon instead of put in a box? And if everything from milk to soap is sold door-to-door, why can’t incense sticks be too?

In India, a photo can be worth a lot more than 10,000 words

I was just going through some of the pictures from the weekend frisbee game and a few of the pictures stand out. Even though the kids are awesome -- both their spirit and their skills at frisbee -- the ones that I keep thinking about are the ones Dixie took of the children's chaperone and of Rajbhai.


I have mostly avoided snapping pictures of others out of respect. They probably think I'm just another tourist and I'd never want them feeling like a tourist attraction. But Rajbhai, the gentleman we met at the snack stand after our frisbee game, noticed that we had a camera and sheepishly asked if we would take his picture. This isn't the first time we've noticed how meaningful something that is so commonplace for us, such as seeing your own picture, can be for the less fortunate here.

So on my next trip to India, perhaps I'll bring a Polaroid camera and dole out the feel-goods. Yea, it's not improving anyone's health, food security or financial stability...but it is a super easy way to give something memorable.

Early Morning Fun

If I had to list the things I least expected to be doing in India, near the top would be: appearing as a backup dancer in Shahrukh Khan's next film, learning to drive on the streets of Ahmedabad, and playing a game of ultimate frisbee. Well, I couldn't even handle the beginner moves at Basement Bhangra, so SRK will have to go it without me. And if I'm alive and writing, I certainly haven't gotten behind the wheel in India yet.

As it turns out, every Sunday morning (at 7:30am) some of the kids from the underprivileged areas of Ahmedabad come to a field next to Ghandiji's Sabarmati Ashram to play a bit of ultimate frisbee. The idea was the brainchild of some of the folks from Indicorps, who figured they could give kids from the poorer areas of Ahmedabad something to look forward to each week by getting them interested in a supposedly-non-contact team sport. So after one failed attempt the week before to wake myself early enough to get there, I—along with Dixie—grabbed a rickshaw and headed across the city.

I was assuming we'd find a pretty informal game with maybe enough kids and volunteers to field the two teams. I definitely wasn't planning on running drills or seeing 8-yr olds throw forehands and backhands. About twenty-five to thirty boys and girls showed up, some as young as six years old, some in their teens. We had enough in each age group to break them into groups depending on their size and skill, which was a good thing since the little ones would probably have been lifted off the ground if they had tried to catch the heat being thrown by the older kids.

It was quickly obvious that these kids had been practicing their throws and drills for a while. As I understand it, the goal is to eventually organize a friendly tournament in Ahmedabad to give them a competitive outlet. The older kids in particular seemed to really enjoy the competition.

While I migrated from running drills with the older kids to throwing to the youngest group, Dixie sat out most of the morning with a sore ankle, but snapped a ton of pictures for us. Our favorites are posted on our Picasa page: http://picasaweb.google.com/kaizad.cama/RunningSlideshow20082009. Predictably, the kids flocked to Dixie, especially the girls. The kids were excited to be in front of the camera, some of them striking their best Indian actress look or picking up nearby clay pots with which to pose. In fact, it wasn't just the kids who were excited to have their pictures taken; their chaperone, and even an old gentleman named Rajbhai, who stopped Dixie later that morning at a snack stand, asked for their pictures to be taken. We have no way of tracking down Rajbhai, but happily for the children, Dixie has developed the pictures for them (she'll do anything to get kids' love…it's like an addiction!).

I'm not a morning person, but this made for a really memorable (if slightly exhausting day) even before starting our planned afternoon trip to see the ancient stepwell of Adalaj. I'm hoping we'll be able to go a few more times, but we're doing a lot of traveling on the weekends for the remainder of our trip. For anyone spending a weekend in Ahmedabad, it's definitely worth checking out.

The future and spot of price information

I worked more on our futures/spot prices project this week. I'm blown away by the ingenuity of the program and its potential, but the concept is fairly simple.

An overwhelming majority of the world’s poor rely on agriculture for subsistence. For these households, output risk and price risk constitute major obstacles to asset accumulation. Because farmers operate on thin margins and are often in debt, negative price shocks can have devastating consequences. The small farmers at the origin of the supply chain --the people who are the most vulnerable to these shocks-- face a host of difficult investment decisions with significant consequences for themselves. Farmers’ choices about which crops to sow, when to sow them, whether to invest in high-yield seed or fertilizer, when to harvest, and when and where to sell the output can mean the difference between meager subsistence and profitability.

Unfortunately, small-scale farmers in developing countries like India often have only imprecise knowledge of market prices, and even less ability to predict prices into the future. These inefficiencies at the origin of the supply chain also affect overall agricultural productivity. The recent increase in commodities prices presents both challenges and opportunities for developing countries: food prices have escalated, but on the other hand, farmers could potentially earn more. Realizing the opportunity, however, depends on markets functioning well and, in turn, on individuals making efficient decisions about planting, harvesting, and selling their crops.

This is where our project comes in. Our goal is to supply future price information to farmers on their specific crops so that they can make more informed predictions of which crops will be most profitable in the coming seasons. Additionally, after the harvest, we will provide spot prices at their various local markets for the crops they are selling. This lets the farmers know which market to take the crop to without wasting money shipping their crops from one market to the next (typically, small farmers pool their resources to hire a truck).

Having more efficient production and distribution benefits farmers by increasing incomes for those who depend on agriculture for their livelihoods, and benefit everyone, by reducing wastage, increasing output, reducing prices, and potentially lowering volatility. 

In 2003, the Indian government legalized futures in all agricultural commodities, leading to the establishment of two large exchanges in Mumbai. These unfolding changes are spurring dramatic growth in futures volume and the range of contracts available, with large farmers gaining access to trading and market information.

The futures market is at the center of a vigorous policy debate in India. In particular, critics of the commodity exchanges often claim that futures speculation has caused increases in the price of food grains. Although a government commission appointed to investigate this claim came back with mixed findings, it is not surprising that futures markets have come under fire in India.

I'll write again soon with more details about how we're actually diseminating the price information.

It probably won't get hot until March

The First Ten Days

I’ve just about finished two weeks at the Centre for Microfinance. I’m splitting my time between three projects that are going on here. One is looking at whether giving farmers information about crop futures prices (via a billboard in the village or via a text message to their mobiles) will have any impact on their planting decisions, or whether spot prices at local markets will have an impact on where they take their crops to sell. The second project is looking at how different methods for teaching financial literacy affect the take up of the material (which is hopefully manifested in future financial decisions). The last project is trying to create a viable rainfall insurance contract that farmers want.

Each project offers a different side of microfinance. The financial literacy project obviously tackles a core issue for the poor that keeps them under-banked and outside of the traditional financial sector and MFIs, and leaves them vulnerable to predatory alternatives. The weather insurance project deals with risk management at the policy level and consumption smoothing at the member level. And finally, the project on price information looks at technologies that can improve the playing field for the poor by giving them the information they need to make more strategic decisions.

So far, the most interesting days have been the two afternoons that I was able to spend with some MFI clients outside the slums of Vasna and the Old City. We organized two informal focus groups with members of Saath, a local MFI with a strong emphasis on savings and asset building. Our goal was to better understand the members’ baseline financial literacy so that we could design a curriculum appropriate for them. The first group we met with consisted of mainly housewives while the second group was made up of rickshaw drivers and owners of small- or micro- businesses such as kite vending, scrap metal and egg wholesaler.

Most of the focus group attendees are illiterate, but extremely saavy. Alex Counts (the founder of the Grameen Foundation) talks about this survivorship bias that leads the poor to defy stereotypes and misconceptions about their capabilities. Those that are somehow surviving poverty must be smart, resourceful and brave – traits that seem to aptly characterize the people I met.

Despite their minimal schooling (especially among the women), they showed a higher-than-expected baseline financial literacy. One reason for this might be the length of their experience with Saath, as they certainly seem to have Saath’s emphasis on savings engrained in them. When asked what they would do with a small windfall of cash (eg. a small inheritance or an especially good day at work), most said they would save it to protect against a bad day’s earnings in the future. I was especially impressed by one lady, Vastuben, who said she would not only save the money, but use her additional savings to obtain a bigger loan through Saath. On one hand, it seemed risky for her to essentially double-down on her savings. On the other, it reminded me of a PowerPoint slide that Vikram Akula (founder of SKS Microfinance) showed. In his presentation, he showed that the poor were often able to get ROIs between 30% and 230%. Of course plenty of microbusinesses fail, but his point was that microbusinesses tend to produce better margins than traditional businesses because they can keep their costs down through the use of family labor, low infrastructure costs and no taxes or legal costs. So, assuming his assertion is true, that could make Vastuben a pretty astute money manager.

Udvada, Navsari and Sanjan

On Sunday, we made a day trip out of three places in southern Gujarat that have historical and religious significance to the Parsees: Udvada, Sanjan and Navsari. When we departed in the morning, only the Iranshah Atash Behram (one of the nine most sacred temples to Zoroastrians) was on the agenda, but the other two were pleasant, if somewhat rushed, additions.

In the Zoroastrian faith, eternal flames must be kept burning at Atash Behram temples and Atash Adaran temples (the two types of holy temples for Zoroastrians). The temple in Udvada is especially significant since it holds the oldest of the holy fires, one that has been kept continuously burning for at least 1,300 years. Apparently, it also holds significance as a sort of Jersey Shore for Indian Parsees, with everyone and their mother there; we ran into Dixie’s aunt and uncle as well as my aunt’s two close friends, all visiting from Mumbai. Udvada is actually a quaint coastal town that would make for a pleasant vacation spot even without the religious significance. The fire temple is built in the style of Persepolis with its winged bulls on each side of the main staircase. The main building is under renovation and the fire has been relocated to a smaller temple.

Sanjan is another coastal town not far from Udvada where the original Parsees landed in their boats after fleeing Iran 1300 years ago. They sought and received refuge from the local king and have proudly called themselves Indian ever since. Sadly, despite the importance of this place to the Parsees, our visit was a bit underwhelming. One pillar, erected in 1917, in the middle of an overgrown garden commemorates the Parsees landing and the fire temple (an Atash Adaran) hardly gets any visitors.

Luckily, we ended our day on another good note with a stop at Navsari, the ancestral home for my dad’s side (before Ahmedabad). This was my first time seeing Navsari and its old, narrow, meandering streets. Despite its size, the city has a very neighborly feeling to it. Like Udvada, Navsari is home to one of the other Atash Behrams –one that is arguably even more interesting. Thought it sits in the middle of the city, it is located on a slight hill and has enough space around it that it stands out prominently from its surroundings. The walls are made of marble and one slab, facing the inner sanctum of the temple, supposedly has a naturally-occurring image of a revered priest, Dasturji Meherji Rana. We arrived after sunset and it was dark inside (artificial light is not allowed inside the temple), but the vague outline of a figure—which I first mistook for a bass-relief carving—was not enough to either confirm or disprove the claim.

Second Class Ticket, First Class Ride

This weekend we took the train from Ankleshwar to Ahmedabad, a four hour journey. Second class chair car – no AC – the only way to travel! Actually, it is the only way to travel when you don’t book your ticket far in advance for a holiday (Republic Day) weekend. But the truth is, the scenery from the train blows me away and the ride is a lot more fun than going by car.

Our train car has pairs of padded bench seats facing each other. The leg room is only enough so that if you sat up perfectly like you were taught in second grade, maybe your knees wouldn’t touch your neighbors’. However, with the number of bags that were stuffed half-under most of the seats, this isn’t possible…nor does it really seem to matter. In India, your concept of personal space changes. The poor old lady across from me has her bare feet up on the bit of seat space that she found next to me, and this is an upgraded situation for me – she originally propped her feet up on the seat space between my legs until I offered her some space beside me instead.

Space in the perpendicular direction is quite a bit worse. Each bench is ostensibly for three people small (based on the fact that there are three seat numbers on the seatbacks), but there are four people sitting on our bench and four on the bench across from us. That’s actually a bit better than average for our train car, as far as I can tell. At the moment, Dixie is on one side of me (the tickets we reserved weren’t together, but we arranged a 3-way trade that would make Brian Cashman proud). On the other side is a mother and her child who didn’t have tickets for the seat but were gifted it by a kindhearted guy who now has four inches of a seat corner to call his own. Across from me is an older gentleman, who (like most of us) also has given up some of his properly-reserved space to the aforementioned old lady and her two relatives. He has the typical look of the well-educated older generation. Lastly, there’s the family of three – two old women and their granddaughter/niece – who are headed to Rajkot. Their extremely calloused feet (for which I have a front row seat), and their presence on this car despite the age of the two women, suggest that they are less than well off. They’ve got a lot of luggage with them and they’re wearing gold jewelry in the form of bangles and earrings (often a form of savings for the un-banked poor), so I tell Dixie that perhaps they are moving house.

Despite the fact that we’re all jostling passive-aggressively for space, the Rajkot-bound family offers us some of their fruit: first bohr at the beginning of the trip and then some grapes towards the middle of our journey. They’re also quite intrigued by the hair claw that Dixie clipped to her purse and the book she’s reading. They discuss each of the objects amongst themselves before leaning forward to take a closer look at the claw (it’s nothing special, and I think they eventually conclude the same), and then take the book out of Dixie’s hands to leaf through it together. I’m taken aback by both their forwardness and their generosity and I’m thinking three months will hardly be enough to get to know India.

My India Mobile Number

I've got a local cell phone in India: +91 9898[six] 35361

 

Just remember the time difference (1pm on the West Coast means 2:30am here, 1pm on the East Coast would be 11:30pm here).

I've added captions to a number of the pictures at http://picasaweb.google.com/kaizad.cama/RunningSlideshow20082009.

Kaizad 0 - Surat 7

I've posted some pictures from Kite Day (January 14th) in Surat (Gujarat) at http://picasaweb.google.com/kaizad.cama/RunningSlideshow20082009. As expected, the native Indians were able to send each one of my kites floating into the stratosphere by cutting my string with theirs (the kite string is coated with crushed glass so that it can cut other strings...and my fingers).

I wanted to take a video of the excitement, but there's no way my camera's zoom was going to be good enough to capture the action. Perhaps someone can find a video of kite cutting and post it in the comments?

On our way to Ahmedabad.

Catching up

Today we're in Ankleshwar, a small town that neighbors Baruch (to me, it resembles an old European village more than anything I could compare it to in the US -- but even that comparison is pretty feeble). I've been jotting down a few notes on paper every once in a while, since I can't get to a computer every time I see something blog-worthy. Here's a few observations from the last two weeks:

1/5 (or 5/1 as it's known here) - For better or worse (I'm not sure yet), extreme poverty isn't in plain sight as much as I remember it being. We arrived late at night (on the 2nd), so we didn't see the giant shanty town outside the airport. If there are 'two Americas' (i.e., a rich one and a poor one), then there are at least five Indias. If you saw the way an upper-middle class Indian lives and then saw of the way that some of the poorest live, you'd have a hard time believing that they live in the same country, let alone the same street in some cases.

1/6 - Between being with Dixie and getting involved in microfinance, I've developed a much stronger appreciation for India (in advance of this trip). A bit to my surprise, I'm really comfortable living here.

1/8 - Ran into the Byramjis, family friends from NJ, in Mumbai. I thought I was going to be lost in this sea of humanity, but I guess now I'll have to abandon plans to let my appearance go.

1/12 - Saw a film (Gajini, with Aamir Khan) in an Indian movie theater for the first time today. More importantly, I went out and got 2 samosas during the customary break for intermission (Indians enjoy 3-hour-long movies, but like the rest of mankind, can only go so long without food and bathroom breaks). I may not have been able to appreciate the movie to its full potential (I can't really understand much Hindi, and it was too close a copy to 'Momento' for my taste)...BUT the movie redeemed itself in the end. The last scene was shot at Aamir Khan's home in Panchgani -- right next to Mount View, where we had stayed. I recognized it immediately (despite the fake sign reading 'School for Orphans') and when the last shot panned over the Krishna River valley, we got a bit too loud and unnerved the other theater-goers with our excitement.

Pictures from Panchgani and Mumbai

A small sampling of the pictures we've taken to date... http://picasaweb.google.com/kaizad.cama/RunningSlideshow20082009

Twelve years

It's been kind of nice to not have a working cell phone or internet connection for the last couple weeks. Still, I thought I'd pop into an internet cafe in Mumbai to post here.

Dixie's cousins, Farida and Vizak, have been accompanying us around Mumbai. A lot can happen to a city in twelve years, and I feel like this is a very different Mumbai than I remember. First, India's economy is much more open than it used to be and its culture is more cosmopolitan (at least in big cities like Mumbai). Having eaten my last hamburger at In-and-Out on the day we left and having enjoyed French food for a week, I thought I might be saying good-bye to good Western food for a while. Not the case -- unlike my last visit, international food, international brands and international people are everywhere. Nonetheless, we've tried to stick to local food as much as possible and we've been treated to some of the best dhabas, cafes and restaurants around (courtesy of Vizak, who fills in for Yelp quite handily in a country where Yelp doesn't exist).

Mumbai's bustle makes Manhattan look like Modesto. It's an amazing city, but you feel like you could get swallowed by it as soon as you leave the flat.

Together with my aunt Dhun, we also spent four days in Panchgani, which is where my mom and her siblings grew up. Panchgani is still a relatively quiet and picturesque place -- it's the Yang to Mumbai's Yin. Maybe it was the familial connections to the place, or maybe it was the natural beauty of Panchgani and our old property there (even though it fell into disrepair long ago), but I didn't want to leave. I have 450+ pictures from the few days we spent there, and when I finally get my laptop properly connected, I'll let them do the talking.

We still have another week of traveling before we get to Ahmedabad to start work. Better sign off. It's lunch time and I hear there are some battatawadas with my name on them.

Landed in Mumbai. Very excited to begin this trip. It's been 12 years.

On the plane for India. When we booked the Paris vacation, it didn't occur to us how much we'd have to switch gears now.