Tuesday, December 27, 2016

Vegetables! Etc!

22 Dec.
Pics and Blab by Dave

Over at indiablog2016.blogspot.com I have a new set of pics.  Just click on the link to get to the blog.

Not just vegetables, but fruit as well!

Ok...I know this isn't a blog full of Buddhas, or temples, or people in colourful clothes or exotic locations.  This is everyday.  What you eat and the hard working people who get this to you and who you should appreciate for their hard labour.

Stores here have lots of veggies and fruit available.  Some you recognize, some you don't.
We were lucky enough to discover a distribution centre in the next town, Dambulla, and spend a little town maneuvering around in the place to pick up some pics of the incredible work that gets done to move those veg! 
First, I've got some pics of veg & fruit in a variety of little side of the road stores.  After, I have a number of pics of the distribution centre.  There are quite a few pics here, but I found the place fascinating!

Sunday, December 25, 2016

A Letter to Dad on Christmas Day

It wasn’t until I was on the top of Sigiriya Rock that I remembered you always wanted to come back here.

I was sitting alone on a ledge when a Sri Lankan family joined me. One of them, a young woman, started to talk to me. “Don’t you have any friends?” I told her my friends were down below us, exploring. It was her first time visiting Sigiriya as well – because of Christmas, they have a two-day holiday, and so they could come. She asked about Christmas and my family, and I told her I miss my family, but that my dad was here more than 70 years ago, and so I was having Christmas with him instead. She must have wondered why I turned away.

I could see your airfield in the distance, where your bombers once lumbered down a rough landing strip, barely clearing the tops of trees as they took off on their missions across the Bay of Bengal. Knowing you, you would have climbed this rock back then, maybe many times. I know you would have had the same view back towards the base. I tried to put my head in the mindset of a twenty-five-year-old man. Were you hardened by war already? Or were you able to drift into reverie, like me, despite the fear and the losses you faced every day? 

Today I climbed up on steel staircases firmly rooted to the cliff. I clung to sturdy railings, hand over hand. You would have balanced on boards held by ropes slung across that cliff, and used worn notches carved 1600 years ago to clamber up the stone to the citadel at the top. It would have been dangerous, but danger defined your life when you were here. This would have been the easy kind.

Sigiriya, 1943, taken from an RAF aircraft. The back of the photo is stamped "Top Secret".


I know why you wanted to come back. This country is beautiful, and bountiful, and deep.
You never had the chance to return, but I’ve come in your place. I miss you, Dad, but I’m more happy than I know how to say, that I can wish you a Merry Christmas from a place you loved. I think you would have been happy, too, to know I am here.


With the greatest of love,
Your daughter, Anne



Dad and his crew at Sigiriya Air Base, in front of the Liberator he flew. He is in the back row, 2nd from the right.

E.J. Mullins served in Sigiriya with the R.A.F. 160 Squadron from July 15, 1943 to August 1. 1944. He died in 1980, when he was younger than I am now.

Friday, December 16, 2016

Annes on a train

 Pics & text by Dave

These are just a few pics of the Annes on our train trip from Nuwara Eliya to Kandy.  Due to a problem with another train ours was delayed about an hour and a half.  Absolutely gorgeous country to sway (sometimes a fair bit too much swaying) your way through in third class reserved seats.



Waiting around in the dirt at the Nuwara Eliya station.
(the station was being worked on and the whole floor was dirt)


I meant to add these pics.  They're from the train from Ella to Nuwara Elyia two days earlier.




Wednesday, December 14, 2016

Valleys and Peaks

Jaipur, Rajasthan
December 2
Story by Maggie



Yeah, there are ups and downs to travel anywhere. Those, for me, are intensified in India.

I hit the biggest trough yesterday. The power had failed in my Bundi room the night before in a rather strange sequence of events which saw the turning on of some lights causing others to turn off, then some switches working and others not, until finally nothing worked except my headlamp and my electronics, which had enough charge to get me through the evening. I reported the outage in the morning. The guesthouse guys set to work to sort out the problem.

I was sitting on the bed, writing or checking email, when a couple of pops came from the set of switches on the wall. Apparently the power was restored. Yes, the various switches operated the  corresponding lights. But the electrical socket, which was also switched, didn’t seem to work; no power to my three chargers (laptop, iPad, and camera), all of which had been attached to the wall through a surge protector I’d brought from home.

The young man-of-all-trades around the house came in to help out. This guy was a real sweetie, serving at meals, cleaning the rooms, explaining the difference between the black-faced monkeys (“no problem”) and the red-faced monkeys (“chapati thieves, very bad monkeys”). And he was the spitting image of Prince. Since I was generally the first up for breakfast, we’d become buddies. So here’s young Prince, in his electrical genius mode, poking bare wires into electrical sockets – who need plugs anyhow, they’re just window dressing – connecting odd looking extension devices to the the wall. And I’m thinking, jesus, it’s bad enough not to be able to charge my stuff, but now Prince is trying to electrocute himself in my room!  He kept telling my not to worry. Ha!

Finally he smiled triumphantly and pointed at my chargers, saying, "They’re broken." Great good news!

Of course I didn’t believe it. Until I tried plugging in to sockets in Anne and Dave’s room. A power surge had wiped out my surge protector and everything attached to it. (Good thing my devices were not attached, or I might have lost them too.)

Here’s the thing. The days here are hot and long and there’s a certain amount of stress connected with living not just on the road, but on these roads in particular. The mantra to “breathe” through discomfort isn’t especially helpful when each breath is an assault on the senses. I don’t mind, since, as I wrote to a friend, I didn’t come to India for a rose garden, but I’m not too proud to say it takes its toll. By 8 or 8:30 each night, I’m ready to retreat to my room, to my writing, my photos, Facebook, my mindless mini-games, my podcasts. And then in the morning, fresh, I like to talk to John via Messenger. Just seeing his smile sets my day right. As of noon yesterday, I had 40% charge on my laptop, 15% on my iPad, and 20% on my camera. I felt about as lonely as I’ve ever felt.

We spent much of the day walking through the markets of Bundi, drinking chai from Krishna’s famous stall, treading up and down stairs to rooftop restaurants for soda water and lunch. I felt a pit of grieving in my belly all day, uncertain if and how this would resolve, and how I would face another 2 months without a steady dose of connection from home.

Late in the afternoon, I realized that while I had no way to charge my laptop, I could charge my iPad and my camera through a USB port in any charger or other device; I didn’t need specialized charges for them. I would be dependent on Dave’s equipment, but I could work with that. My funk lifted.

This morning early, we took a car to the nearest train station, 40 km away in a town called Kota, and caught the train to Jaipur. Jaipur is a modern city of 3 million, and the plan was to find an electronics store where I could get something that would charge my MacBook. For anyone that doesn’t know India, that might sound easy. You know, find an Apple store, or some big-box electronics giant. Yeah. Most of the “stores” I’ve encountered in India – granted, I’ve been in the old parts of small towns – are nothing more than cubbies, 3 cubic meters of space crammed with dusty merchandise. Think dollar store, but tiny and with no front wall, and visualize a hundred of them, side by side. You don’t go into these shops, you stand on a step at the front and ask for what you want. I don’t believe I have seen so much as an extension cord I would trust in one of these stores, much less a MacBook charger.

Serendipity would have us sharing a booth on the train with an IT worker currently living in Philadelphia, home here to visit family. He told us to find a store in a big mall, not in the market, where stock was unreliable. He said any big electronics store would have something that would work for me. He also said that Apple was not allowed to do business in India at the moment due to the company’s practice of dumping out-of-date stock here. Fortunately, the good part of his story turned out to be true.

When we arrived at our guesthouse in Jaipur, our sweet host, K.P., put in his opinion about how to solve my electronics problem. Oh his map, he indicated an electronics section in the market, which would mean a row of the 3-cubic-meter shops as described above. We asked him about a mall, and he showed us where it was on the map, but said we wouldn’t get what we need there. We decided to go with the American-experienced advice. We took a tuk-tuk to the most space-age-looking shopping mall I have ever seen. It looked as if Dubai had come along and dropped off some architecture. This place was royal blue glass and steel, all curves and arches, rising out of the dusty desert. We were welcomed in by uniformed guards. We entered a world that makes Metrotown look shabby. Dazed, I asked in a clothing store where an electronics store would be. The woman consulted with her co-worker, and said there were no electronics stores. I left the store and noticed a sign pointing up the escalator, saying “electronics”. Up we went. There were four electronics stores, one specifically an Apple store. Remember, Apple is not allowed to do business in India.

I was able to buy a new laptop charger, but not an iPad charger. The charger has Indian plugs, but they slide off and I can replace them with Canadian plugs when I get home. I can charge the iPad and the camera through the USB ports on the laptop. I’m good to go!

We wandered around a bit, through a food court that offered Peri-peri chicken, KFC, Dunkin Donuts. We didn’t eat. We checked out Marks and Spencer. We tried for an ATM, but none of them worked. Finally we left and caught a tuk-tuk back to our guesthouse. I plugged in my laptop and away she charged.

What euphoria when you regain what was lost! I’m back in business. And I plan to be very, very careful with my equipment.

Monday, December 12, 2016

Mirissa Beach, Sri Lanka

December 8
Story by Maggie
Pics by Dave


I’m in a plastic chair planted in the sand at a beach-front shack called the Nissan Restaurant, where the colours are Jamaican-flag red, green, and yellow, and the soundtrack is Reggae. The dudes serving are 20-year-old surfer types, shaggy-top haircuts and a demeanor the definition of cool. Could be any beach-bum beach, anywhere.

It was a shock stepping out onto the sand yesterday, into the land of bikinis and board shorts, after a month in which I didn't see so much as a bare ankle or shoulder. I thought I'd taken a risk, wearing a tank top, but I was way, way overdressed.

Other than the café workers, most of the beach is occupied by foreigners in every shade from white to copper, pink to lobster. In the midday, young women stretch out on lounge chairs. I would have done that, too, back in the day. Now I stroll the beach under an SPF umbrella and slathered with sunscreen. The sun creeps in, regardless, and I have tan lines on my shoulders.

We saw sunset from the beach last night, and watched the guys move tables right down to the high water mark. Candles set on tables sparkled the length of the bay as darkness set in. I leaned my head back in my chair, and there was the quarter moon, directly overhead. The tropics!

Each beach restaurant — there are maybe ten of them — set out the evening's seafood on a big wooden platform or in a glass cabinet. I ordered tiger prawns, grilled, and you’d think they’d have been good but they weren’t. I am grateful I didn’t get sick.


 




A dinner for someone

At the end of the beach, at the end of the day.

Sun setting over the 'party boat'.

Cricket on the beach





Thursday, December 8, 2016

Food

Story and pic by Maggie,
Pushkar
Monday. November 14

Pilgrims fill the streets of Pushkar at this, the holy festival. Early each morning they crowd the food stalls, eating vegetables and rice from little bowls. The traditional bowls are made of molded banana leaves and are discarded on the ground when the meal is done, where they disintegrate. Chai is served traditionally in unfired clay cups that smash when dropped, to be ground back into earth. Modern equivalents are abundant now, banana leaves replaced with styrofoam or tinfoil, and clay cups with waxed paper cups. What still prevails is the custom of dropping them on the ground once used.

Discarded banana-leaf bowls, mostly

Western tourists don’t begin to compete in numbers with Indian visitors to Pushkar. But while the Indians take their meals at food stalls, westerners are treated to a seemingly endless choice of beautiful rooftop restaurants where the breeze blows (when it blows) and the street noise fades a little (though you might be lucky enough to find the place next to a loudspeaker on the next building that blares Hari Krishna chants from dawn till dark).

These rooftops are all pretty much the same: a life-threatening climb up five steep and flights of stairs to a shaded roof with pots of greenery and a dozen or so big tables with cane chairs. The menus are also the same: twelve or fifteen pages of heavy laminated card, everything in English. Breakfast choices fill several pages, and include porridge, muesli, toast, lassis (yoghurt drinks), pancakes (which are actually crepes in most cases). Each of these is offered in many varieties, and every variety is listed on the menu. I’ve found a standard breakfast that suits me well: porridge with mixed fruit, a plain lassi, a couple of cups of chai. All this costs me 250 rupees (the equivalent of about $5.00 Canadian) and holds me until supper time. Dave seems to lean towards pancakes or crepes for breakfast, and Anne tends to choose something savoury such as this morning's hash browns, which consisted not just of potatoes, but a variety of vegetables.

In the heat of the day, we seek out a garden café, also in abundance here, usually attached to a simple hotel. We sip fresh lemon soda (a squeezed lemon and a bottle of soda water) and have maybe a plate of pakoras.

Again at supper, we find another rooftop. Dinner menus (everywhere) include pizza, pasta, Israeli food, Mexican food, and oh yes, a small selection of Indian food. Mostly I’ve been eating Indian food, and it’s been delicious. A thali (a platter with rice, chapatis, and several steel bowls of curries) will run from 150 to 300 rupees, depending on the place, but the quality and quantity doesn’t seem to vary much.

I thought food in India would be over spiced for me, but here it’s been perfect, if anything on the mild side. It could be that these places tailor their food to Western tastes (ya think?). One night the thali had no spice at all, very disappointing.

Pushkar is supposed to be strictly vegetarian, but some of our rooftops serve egg frittatas. There is no alcohol allowed in the town. We are slipped cocktail menus at a couple of places, but it wouldn’t feel right to drink here. We’ll leave that to the hoards of young Indian men who were carousing in the streets all night last night.