Monsoon Travels

When you travel by scooter, it is rain or come shine...



Personally, it seems to me that a shepherd with an umbrella can hardly be respected by the sheep.



Roadside

Shepherd Keeping Dry

Pictures Around Rajkot, India



Boy Selling Flowers



Tough Crosswalk

Tea Time


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Storefront Rajkot India

Holy Cow!!  Window Shopping in Rajkot



Electronics Store



Man Just Watching the World Go By

Hey Baby

Meghna and Anuj' daughter Rewa works on her facial muscles in this video.  Everyone now:  'ahhhhhh, cute baby....."

Ganesha Chaturthi

Ok, this is my second big Hindu holiday in 10 days. Last week was the birth of Lord Krsishna. These week is Ganesha Chaturi. The discussion of Ganesha Chaturi is below, taken from Wikipedia.

There are a lot of Gods in India, and I must confess that I can't really keep them straight. It's nothing against Hindu--hell, I STILL ain't sure about the current division of labor between Jesus and God (is Jesus the receptionist that patches you through?) and the Holy Ghost is--well, more than a little odd. All I know is that I like the excitement and noise, and deeply respect the faith of those who believe.

Anyway, Genesh showed up at the Mall the other night with a posse of dancers and drum beaters. It was loud and crazy and fun. Any religion that likes to celebrate is good with me!! So take a look.



Ganesha Chaturthi (गणेश चतुर्थी) , is the Hindu festival of Ganesha, the elephant-headed son of Shiva and Parvati, who is believed to bestow his presence on earth for all his devotees in the duration of this festival. It is the birthday of Lord Ganesha who is widely worshipped as the god of wisdom, prosperity and good fortune.
The festival is observed in the Hindu calendar month of Bhaadrapada, starting on the shukla chaturthi (fourth day of the waxing moon period). The date usually falls between 20 August and 15 September. The festival lasts for 10 days, ending on Anant Chaturdashi (fourteenth day of the waxing moon period).
While celebrated all over India, it is most elaborate in Maharashtra, Goa, Gujarat, Orissa, Karnataka, Tamil Nadu and Andhra Pradesh. Outside India, it is celebrated widely in Nepal and by Hindus in the United States, Canada and Fiji.

Ok, Come Home With Me

Those who know me will suggest that I might not be a neat freak. Things can get a little messy at times. Ok, fine. So I don't always squeeze the toothpast from the bottom. I might have a messy sink from time to time. Big deal.

Thus, you can consider my amazement when the guy cleaning my room at the Fortune Landmark in Ahmedabad went nutso clean-freak on me. He is folding my DIRTY clothes. He is organizing the rats nest of computer/camera/telephone/ipod/hard drive cords I carry. And, as this picture shows, he has turned the bathroom into some kind of amazing room of neatness.
This neatness thing is a bit like baseball--I can't play all that well, but I am a big fan. I may bring this guy back with me.

Morning Paper

I always like to read the morning paper in India, as it gives you a feel for what is going on. Along with the politics, Bollywood, and cricket obsession, there are reports that not only provide a bit of insight into India, but can just make your head hurt. Today's Ahmedabad Times had the following article that could only happen in India. (The language is not my poor typing, but just the different version of English that is used in India):

Trio convicted for suicide attempt, fined 25,000 rupees (about $500)

A city sessions court has punished three persons for their attempt to commit suicide. In this case, Rajesh Patel, his wife Smita, their two children, and their neighbor Sarika Patel consumed poison in a car on the Narol-Naroda highway. A child died, while the rest recovered after treatment….


During investigation, it was found that Rajesh had an extramarital affair with Sarika. Since marriage was not possible, both planned to commit suicide together: but surprisingly Rajesh’s wife Smita too joined in with their two sons.

Expressing surprise over Smita joining her husband and his girlfriend suicide bid (now that’s an understatement) the Court observed that she was repenting for her act, where one of her children had died, but law must take its own course. The court exonerated them of murder charges and upheld that [the child’s] death was not a murder, but an offense of culpable homicide.

The trio was convicted for attempting suicide under section 309 of IPC. Patel was also found guilty of culpable homicide under section 304 Part II.
The court ordered them to sit for the entire day in courthouse as punishment, but refrained from awarding jail term. For Sarika, the court decided no punishment only because she had just got married.

However, the court finds Patel Rupees 25,000 and asked the government to channelise the money to people who run help lines for stressed board students (kids taking college entrance exams).

Going to Baby Krishna's Birthday

We celebrated Baby Krishna's birthday on Thursday. I know nothing about Hinduism, except that there are a lot of celebrations and joy, and they treat Gods as if they are living beings. So this being the birthday of a baby, there were a lot of sweets for the kid--and little trinkets that adorned his body.
India is always an adventure, and it just bubbles over with life. Sometimes it can lead to sensory overload, and make you just want to have alone time in a dark room, but once you get used to it the 'India experience' can be unbelievable.
Here was what our trip to the Temple was like...

In the rain, on the way to the Temple.

Girls from a village riding into town for the fun!!

The 'throne'. With a bunch of cookies brought for the Baby.

Decorated Temple

Not really sure...but it's definitely Indian!!!

Obstacle Course

Driving through an Indian city can be a bit of a challenge, as you have to dodge scooters (women riding side-saddle...pretty impressive!!) cows, scooters, bikes. At least on a holiday (this was Baby Krishna's birthday) there weren't many cars on the road--everything but....

Little Girl

Sitting in traffic at night in Ahmedabad--there is always traffic in India--and this little girl riding backwards on the scooter. It's just so wonderful and fun.

Bar in Burlington

Women yelling to band member: "YOU ARE SO FCKIN HOT Kevin!!!!!!!"
Kevin/BM: "Thanks Mom".

I Spy

Band in the bar just played 'Back in the USSR'. I miss Anna Chapman. All hot Russian women are spys. Why the shock? Has no one watched a Bond movie? Is Barbara Bach still married to Ringo? I don't think

so. I miss her too. And Anna. Lonely night in Burlington VT.

Security

Just got through the Kabul airport gauntlet of faux security:
Step 1: Get out of car 1500 feet from airport. Get patted down. Driver remains in car with luggage, neither of which is searched. Note: Leave weapons in car.
Step 2: Drive 200 feet. Repeat same drill. Get back in car.
Step 3: drive 50 feet. Take bags to be screened. Leave big bags in the car because hand checking will take too long and no one will check the car anyway.
Step 4: Unload bags and walk to next checkpoint with bags. Get patted down again. No bag check. Get on bus.
Step 5: Get off bus. Take bags. Finally inside airport. Get patted down. For first time, bags xrayed at same time.
Step 6: Check in.
Step 7: Go past guy that collects the card you fill out and have stamped on entry. I had lost my pictures so couldn't do the card. Tell guy you lost it. He says 'No card no fly.' I say I must fly as my daughter's wedding is tomorrow. He says, 'Ok, next time.' I am relieved he doesn't ask me just how many daughters I have, as this
excuse has been used a number of times prior. Afghans have weakness for family which I am embarrassed to exploit. Note to Obama: let's send everyone home for a wedding--the Afghans will understand.
Step 8: Go thru first real screen. Security guy: 'Why didn't you take out liquids?"
Me: "No one ever checks."
Security Guy: "Ok"
Step 9: Go through passport check. Follow 5 Russians who get rejected for...being Russian and bringing bedbugs to Afghanistan. Tough shit Comrade, Americansky coming through.
Step 10: Sit in waiting area going deaf from TV blaring Dari MTV.
Steps 11-434: Yet to come.
It's all good. I'm headed home.

Chillin’ In Kabul

This is the first time in 5 years I have been in Afghanistan without security when I go out. My theory is that if I get into a Toyota taxi, I become invisible, especially when compared to sitting in the back of a SUV with a driver and body guard that follows me around. A real side benefit is that, for the first time in a long time, I actually got to interact with Kabul. Among the highlights:

• Having the taxi driver yell at a friend driving another taxi—kind of a Dari 'what's happening' to his friend.
  
• Crossing the street. 'Frogger' was invented after watching people cross the street in Kabul. I decided to wait and not cross between 2 dump trucks. The traffic cop looked at me and called me a big wuss (again, Dari version) and actually half-pushed me in front of an oncoming red Toyota. Luckily the accelerator didn't jam, and I was able to 'run-stop—run like hell' across. I held my arms up in victory upon reaching the other side, looked back, and we both laughed.
  
• Going to 5 ATMs before finding one that worked. To find them, my cabbie just drove along the curb and kept asking people. One kebab cooker actually went inside to ask his boss. Unbelievable.
  
• Sitting down in a restaurant with a Dari/Pashtun-only menu. No English. It is really great to eat places when there are no other damn foreigners hanging out.
  
• Pulling over spontaneously to take pictures of kids scrounging through trash—and having the kids show me their kung fu moves.
  
• Not having every beggar in the street come up to my window—because people in old yellow taxis don't have money, and they don't even see me.
  
• Giving Akim $50 for driving me around all day—more than he would probably make in a week, and having him ask me for more. Afghans are born with a genetic requirement to negotiate—I could have given him a new car and he would have asked for gas money.
  

So I am wrapping up a week in Kabul. It seems normal—but I know better, as the whole damn country is on the verge of disaster.

Top 10 Good Things About Kabul

10. They have Diet Pepsi.

9. The Simpsons are on every night  
8. I put my dirty clothes in a bin every morning, and they come back clean every night—magic.
7. It’s Mango season!!!
6. Watermelon….best ever!!
5. Cheap taxis.
4. 30 Rock is on every night
3. The blimp that hangs in the sky 24/7
2. NBA basketball is on for breakfast
1. Mango Smoothies

Afghan Deal...or Not

I am happy to report major progress on the part of the Kabul Municipal government. Now that the city has near 24/7 electricity, each office has been able to acquire a television set. So, as I spend my days wandering around City Hall, I am treated to a combination of talk shows, news showing Karzai, and cheesy soap operas.


The highlight was definitely when I got to see the Afghan version of “Deal, Or No Deal” while sitting in a guy’s office waiting for him to show up. Luckily, the host of the Afghan version isn’t Howie Mandel, which means this is far less annoying than the original. Instead of playing for $1 million, they play for $1 million Afs--$2,000. And instead of scantily clad women on risers holding briefcases, they just have some guys sitting on chairs with boxes from the Afghan Staples. Osum.

It just keeps getting better…..

Dreaming

Walking through the Dubai airport, it is hard not to notice the way women are dressed. While some are fully covered, most are wearing a hijab that covers their head. The idea that 'Muslim' means 'conservative' just doesn't work in Dubai.
Minding my own business, my attention was drawn to a woman with very tight rolled-up jeans, flaunting a large bootay, 5" platform heels, more makeup than Maybelline, and of course, a hijab. Which reminded me that hey, 'Jeannie', she of belly dancing fame, was a Muslim. She had to be. Magic bottles and flying carpets? Definitely Middle Eastern, and that means Muslim.
So basically, the Muslims just have an image problem. Sure, some wear bourqas—but a lot of other Muslim women seem more closely aligned with Jeannie, who still gives me pleasant dreams!!

13 Hour Days

Back on the road to Afghanistan, and of course all roads to Afghanistan go through Dubai.

The hotel I stayed in while passing through Dubai is really very nice. A lot of folks going through for the night stay there, as it is a stone's throw from the airport. I think it runs about $150 per night or so.

I was picked up at the airport by a hotel driver from Pakistan and what can best be described as a 'hostess' from the Philippines (a pretty woman in her 20s) in a huge Mercedes. While in the car, the hostess asks what I would like to have to drink (water) in my room when I get there, and when we pull into the hotel 5 minutes later she takes me to my room to check-in and the water is waiting.

All of this is dandy, and I enjoy being treated like a low-rung Sheikh as much as the next guy. But then I start talking to my 'hostess' on the way back to the airport this morning, and she tells me she works 13 hours a day, 6 days a week. She makes slightly over peanuts for the job, and sends most of it home. (I think the primary export of the Philippines is people, as they fill a tremendous number of jobs here and everywhere).

Dubai is called a miracle by many—the newest and latest of everything, though it might still prove to be a financial house of cards. But whether it is the Filipino hostesses or the Bangladeshi laborers, I get uncomfortable being treated like a mini-Sheikh when I know that so many are being exploited for my benefit.

Heading Out Can Be a Little Chaotic

For some reason, I like chaos when traveling—especially in the beginning, when I am strong and resilient, and can enjoy the Japanese guy slurping noodles or an attempt to get people off the merry-go-round and Euro-Disney (folks stuck on the benches thought they could stay on and upgrade to horse—guess again frère Jacque). I like it all.

Boarding the flight to Dubai provided a delightful level of chaos, as there were about 30 Indians—many of whom knew each other—that decided seat assignments to be a figment of the western mind, and instead played musical chairs for 15 minutes until all were perfectly situated, and the flight attendants had all taken a valium.

All seemed well until the meal was served, at which point the inclination of many (but alas, not all)of the Indians to order a special veg meal created a huge commotion, as the meals were assigned to seats that had long since been abandoned by their assignee. I just giggled as the poor flight attendants tried to match up meals and people for 20 minutes or more.

I personally think all international flights should be festival seating—would solve a lot of problems.

The trip is off to a fun start!! Well, unless you are a United flight attendant.

 

Places To Visit (In Gray)

visited 57 states (25.3%)
Create your own visited map of The World

Stolen from a Another Post...Sorry

A local United Way office realized that the organization had never received a donation from the town's most successful lawyer. The person in charge of contributions called him to persuade him to contribute.
"Our research shows that out of a yearly income of at least $500,000, you give not a penny to charity. Wouldn't you like to give back to the community in some way?"
The lawyer mulled this over for a moment and replied, "First, did your research also show that my mother is dying after a long illness, and has medical bills that are several times her annual income?"
Embarrassed, the United Way rep mumbled, "Um ... no."
The lawyer interrupts, "or that my brother, a disabled veteran, is blind and confined to a wheelchair?"
The stricken United Way rep began to stammer out an apology, but was interrupted again.
"or that my sister's husband died in a traffic accident," the lawyer's voice rising in indignation, "leaving her penniless with three children?!"
The humiliated United Way rep, completely beaten, said simply, "I had no idea..."
On a roll, the lawyer cut him off once again, "So if I don't give any money to them, why should I give any to you?"

Woman Power!!

As I apparently have a large female following (at least 3 people), and since I haven't posted anything here for awhile, I thought folks might enjoy this. I also recommend Ted.com for people who like to hear ideas. It is a remarkable site.
"Investing in women can unlock infinite potential around the globe. But how can women walk the line between Western-style empowerment and traditional culture? Kavita Ramdas of the Global Fund for Women talks about three encounters with powerful women who fight to make the world better -- while preserving the traditions that sustain them."

Womens' Work

This finding is still preliminary, but I am pretty sure it will ultimately be proven: We would all be well served if we just let women run things. From the Vatican to Afghanistan to Ghana to the Congress, men keep screwing things up. Meanwhile, incredibly capable women are left to clean things up. The time has come for them to just take charge.

These pictures are of some of the women working at the local level in Ghana that I got to speak to recently. I think the pictures reflect the intelligence, commitment and strength that each has. What is more amazing is that they have to overcome huge barriers to participate, but they don’t even think about it--they just ignore or kick down the barriers, and make their communities a better place.

Ghana Drive-Through

These pictures aren’t the best, and there is a reason. They were all taken out the window of a moving Land Cruiser. While bounced and jostled a little bit, I had a wonderful time just pointing my camera out the window, trying to somehow capture all of the wonderful things I was seeing in rural Ghana. Sadly, I missed a lot—the people walking down the road, seemingly out of nowhere; the soccer games in the late afternoon attended by the entire village; the looks on the faces of people when I would wave at them, or Pap would honk and wave.
It was all amazing, and I hope these pictures reflect the adventure I felt driving through Ghana.

Nothing More to Say--Ghana Is Wonderful

Ghana Report

Of course, everyone knows the dangers of Africa. Malaria, snakes, HIV, those guys chasing Johnny Weissmuller, Hepatitis B, those guys chasing George of the Jungle (early Clooney), spiders, starvation, ethnic warfare, being lost in the jungle, head hunters, ebola, Idi Amin, and god knows what. They don't advertise this, but you have to sign a waiver not holding the government of Ghana responsible for your likely demise when you get off the plane.* It's just every man and woman for himself out here. Sadly, it seems I may be joining the list. Having survived all of the above challenges, and those damn crying babies on the plane, I may succumb to….my allergies. How weak is that? Like having kids, you have to build up a tolerance over the year(s), and it seems the JFK to Ghana direct flight has not given my poor sinuses time to adjust. I am holding a handkerchief to my face more than Michael Corleone in Godfather 1. (May be 2—I don't remember much about 1 other than James Caan getting a little on the back of the bedroom door, and Michael's Italian wife sliding off the straps of her slip on his wedding night. In fairness, I think GF1 came out in the early 70s, and such things tended to stick in the mind of a young man). So here I am, sneezing and sniffling through Ghana. No amount of Tylenol Sinus will cure me, though taking 4 in 3 hours last night made my eyes feel like sandpaper, and I think I heard my eyes screaming as I put in my contacts this morning at 6:15 am. It was a high-pitched 'iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii' and ended with an f-bomb. Had to be my eyes. I don't blame them, as it really sucked. Before my head explodes, here are a few notes on my trip to Ghana:

• Easter is a very big deal here. Yet both Saturday and Easter Sunday we worked 12 hour days, because muckety-mucks and citizens alike wanted to talk to us about a local governance program in their community. This reminds me why I do international stuff—in Ohio citizens want to talk about the life threatening risk of a rear yard setback for the neighbor's storage shed. In Oregon, the urban growth boundary MUST NOT be extended beyond the rear lot line of the last guy that moved to town. In a place like Ghana, they want to learn about citizen participation, how to interact with the Council, and how they can participate in a still young democracy. Guess which place is most intellectually invigorating?
• More about Easter. Joyous is the best word, although I almost called the cops on the damn fools that showed up outside my window at the hotel Sunday morning at 5:30 am with their drums, whistles, and trumpets to gather people up to march….somewhere. This was a perfect opportunity to get up and take some pictures, but I made a calculated guess the second coming was not going to happen, and chose to stay is bed for another 30 minutes—at which time I had to get going because we were advancing the cause of democracy, and Easter could not stand in our way. 
• People dance everywhere as part of church. I am told (but cannot confirm) that people are leaving the Catholic Church for the Pentecostalists because there is a lot more singing and dancing in the latter. Amen to that. All I know is that my Lutheran peeps seem not to be in a big growth surge out here—I don't remember my time with those guys as something I could describe as joyous. Anyway, it seems healthy to think of God as fun and good, and these folks have got it down. 
• As noted, it was Easter and there was singing and dancing, a lot of it outside in parks. And everywhere you go there is music. People seem to be genuinely happy. Pap, who is my new spiritual guru, tells me that money has nothing to do with happiness, and that the poor of Ghana, of which there are many, can still be happy. Now he tells me—in fairness, I just want enough money to fly to Ghana and other places any time I can to see people enjoy themselves despite being poor. And I have come to prefer cold rooms and hot showers. Not quite sure how I reconcile this. 
• Had a meeting late this afternoon. 20 minutes in, a woman sitting under the air conditioner turned it off—I mean, it was only an 88/88 day (heat/humidity) and we were suddenly trapped in an airless room with 20 of our closest friends. 45 minutes later I was drenched and ready to pass out. (Had the barber in Accra not cut off all my hair and beard just a few days ago in anticipation of the heat, I likely would have died). It looked like we were ready to wrap up, when a composite of every bullshit citizen I have ever had to tolerate stood up and killed us with a 20 minute diatribe on some damn thing—he didn't speak English, though I wouldn't have listened regardless. I kept mumbling 'Please make it stop' to no avail. Apparently some traits are universal. Tomorrow I intend to tell the Mayor not to allow any citizen input at meetings, lest he lose his mind. (Ok, not really, but holy shit people of the world, get a grip).
• This is anecdotal, but this seems like a very young country. Damn, half the women under 25 seem to have a baby strapped on to their back, and there are young people everywhere. Maybe this is because I just came back from the bar across the street (medicinal purposes—treating my sinuses—yes, Tylenol and liquor=dumb/liver failure, but I am in the 'bush' and certain compromises are necessary—I feel like Hemingway) where everyone was young. Anyway, who knows? Remind me to check it out when I find an internet connection.
• Oh ya, my new spiritual guru is NOT a good driver. (I suspect his ancestors weren't either). He seems to like to go up hills on the wrong side of the road. But I am good with it—he drives thousands of miles a year, and when in Africa…..but to paraphrase George of the Jungle, 'watch out for that CAR.' (This should resolve any questions in your mind—yes, I do this solely for my own entertainment, and yes, I make myself giggle. It is not my care that zillions of people—or the 4 people that read this (I think my mom quit) have no clue what I am talking about. I am writing to a niche market—me. Thank god there is something on the internet I find useful to read and ponder). 
• We drove through some serious bush today. I half expected a lion or tiger or bear giraffe to jump out, but alas, we are not in that part of the country. We damn near ran over some goats though, and a couple of chickens barely escaped. Yep, not much different than driving to Walkerton, Indiana. 
• Speaking of goats, there is one outside the hotel running free and bleating. Meanwhile, there must be a 10:30 pm sound ordinance (I always wondered what Bruce Henry would end up doing) as the bar across the street has shut it down. Dammit Bruce, the curfew applies to the goat too!! Good thing I am seeing the Mayor in the morning. Somebody's catching hell.
• South African dramas are the worst—and just about the only thing on TV. Stupid, laughable and poorly done, with a star who seems only to pose with a cigarette and blow smoke. I miss John Forsythe.
• The above reminds me—virtually no one in Ghana smokes. No one. There was no one even smoking at the bar. Osum—or a Phillips Morris (or their new made up name) marketing failure.
• A 6'9" athletic looking kid was walking down the street toward me tonight. Trying to do my part, I have signed him to a letter of intent to IU. No need to thank me Tommy Crean. Enough with the guards—you need some size, dumass. I mean really, Butler? And we're sitting? WTF?
• The family jinx placed on Bobby Huggins continues. Apologize for blowing off the second grade at Montgomery elementary in 1992 Hugs, or me and my ancestors (you know who they are) will keep the jinx alive until: 1) you quit greasing your hair or 2) you wipe that sneer off your face. And sober for god's sake. 

I apologize. No TV. No internet. Deep in the bush. Facing almost certain sinus death. This is what you get.

Will someone please get that goat under control?

*Ok, the statement asterisked is not true. I want to apologize to the government of Ghana, and the really nice guy at the Ghanain embassy in DC who found my visa AND gave me 2 brochures on Ghana with at least 90 minutes left to catch my airplane.