tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52197062688325762682024-03-05T06:19:20.471-08:00At Home in MumbaiHeatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217862775219452499noreply@blogger.comBlogger38125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5219706268832576268.post-62982445535758764142015-07-03T04:19:00.001-07:002015-07-03T04:19:20.867-07:00Children of India<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The longer I'm in India, the more I appreciate the genuineness of the children. This little guy was sitting in front of his family's store/hut perfectly content playing with some gravel and rocks.<br />
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Around the corner a group of children were frolicking in the pesticide smoke.<br />
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Children go to school only half a day. These are taking advantage of their last free moments and the absence of the guy who normally cranks the mini-ferris wheel. </div>
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These beggar boys were supposed to be asking for money but the preferred to ask for their photo. As soon as I showed them this picture of themselves, they whooped it up and strutted their stuff for each other.</div>
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This young man had a winning personality and ran over with a bundle of kites when I rolled down my window looking for some. </div>
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He swam his heart out trying to race our paddle powered boat.</div>
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Oblivious to all sorts of dangers and life impediments, the children of India find know how to find joy in the moment. </div>
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Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217862775219452499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5219706268832576268.post-56829525758987931032015-01-12T02:00:00.001-08:002015-01-12T02:03:56.257-08:00Capturing the Moment<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Sometimes a picture captures the essence of a situation better than words. Here are some of my favorite moments from this past month.<br />
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His entire attention was focused on eating a giant sugar cane stalk. This is the moment he finally stood still.<br />
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The driver of this tourist bus must be a magician. How else could he possibly get motion out of this relic?</div>
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Two hard-working men with under-appreciated skills.</div>
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These fellow Taj Mahal visitors relished my request to take their photos.</div>
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She came to the festival to dance but had to endure an annoyingly long speech.</div>
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A family traveling on the freeway at 50 mph.</div>
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Finally, this stunning street girl was selling good luck offerings but beamed when I gave her my last granola bar. </div>
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Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217862775219452499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5219706268832576268.post-40390201499940766232015-01-05T08:11:00.003-08:002015-01-05T08:11:55.923-08:00Experience Created<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Adjusting to living in India hasn't been easy for me. All my pet peeves are common social norms here - being late or not showing up at all, no organization whatsoever, talking loudly through movies, saying whatever sounds good even if it is far from the truth, general uncleanliness accompanied with random public peeing. How that last one became such an accepted option remains one of life's greatest Indian mysteries that I witness several times a day.<br />
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While this might be an interesting place to visit, it is a challenging place to live. Ty's day-to-day interactions happen with well-educated and Westernized Indians while mine centers around non-English speaking village migrants who are struggling to make ends meet. Frustration fills my days. I realized I needed to get out of the house more and create a different experience for myself. So when Andrea invited me to come along and teach blind boys to swim, I wagged my head and changed my life.<br />
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First of all, the boys are adorable. I have never, in my entire life, seen any children so well-behaved and so kind to each other. My first glimpse captured them guiding each other and laughing together.<br />
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Curious to know how one goes about teaching the blind to swim, I watched the warm-up exercises and tried to help move arms in the right circular motion but ended up accidentally tickling the same one below who couldn't stop giggling. </div>
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We clap to guide them in a straight line and holler 'ready' at play time for them to throw the ball to us. Let's just say most of them are better swimmers than me and can throw like a pro!</div>
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Any immersible amount of water terrifies the average Indian. There are no bathtubs and most have never learned to swim since swimming pools are not common and the ocean/river waters are too polluted. Just getting them used to being in water is a great accomplishment. But their blindness means they rely on their hearing and that disappears when they put their face in the water to blow bubbles and swim. </div>
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They taught me what it means to bravely try new things. I found this little guy sobbing as he sat on the side of the pool. He wanted to swim so badly but he was too terrified to get in. I hugged him tight and slowly got him into the water more and more, but it wasn't until he heard his best friend's voice that he jumped out of my arms and gleefully spun around with his buddy. His friend had been within reach the whole time but without sight, he had no idea he was there.</div>
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It was really hard to feel sorry for myself after I met these boys. Their Happy Home for Blind Boys teaches them all kinds of crafts and skills that enable them to succeed in life. They were the best rehearsed Christmas choir! Their teacher and pianist are former blind boy students whose lives were changed by the gift of music.</div>
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They tat cotton to make thread and linen cloths, they create beautiful ceramic pieces, they paint, and even piece together the most incredible mosaics. They ride the train home every Friday and back every Sunday night counting the stops and fighting the crowds all by themselves. I don't think they know they aren't supposed to be able to do these things!</div>
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What really inspires me, though, is their sense of humor. We had a Christmas party after swimming one day and when Christian mistook the ketchup for his bottled water, there was no stopping their giggles.</div>
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When this guy whispered to me it was his birthday, I broadcasted it. All sang enthusiastically with the volunteers belting out "happy birthday, dear Asit" because that was the name on his hat. All the boys knew his voice and just as loudly sang, "happy birthday, dear Suresh" but busted out laughing when they heard us call him Asit. Suresh could barely ask how long he'd been wearing the wrong cap because it was so funny to him.</div>
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I love these blind boys. I love them because they taught me how to see - how to see that there are better ways to handle life's frustrations. And when I forget that they can't see and tell them to 'look! They are setting up the party!' or yell 'watch out!' they smile and giggle at me instantly forgiving. They are a bright spot in my week. I think I can safely say, experience created.</div>
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Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217862775219452499noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5219706268832576268.post-51990164507838734662014-12-01T05:46:00.002-08:002014-12-01T05:46:55.378-08:00Home Blessing<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Two amazing members of our branch are Rubina and Mansi - vivacious mother and daughter. This picture of them competing against each other at our branch activity shows their fun personalities.<br />
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They are strong women who joined the church together. Though the men in the family (husband and son) are not interested, these two keep each other going through hard times. Ty was just assigned to be their home teacher so last night we went together to pay a visit.</div>
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They live in a warren of housing set aside for government workers and we played our own version of Marco Polo for a while before they rescued us and led the way. The address was something like: 1st floor, building 60 near the school and across from the auto rickshaw stand. Mailmen are first rate detectives here!</div>
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We arrived with all of our Utah home teaching habits - apologize for coming on the last day of the month, don't stay too long, bring treats, offer to help, give a brief message, leave quickly and let them enjoy their night. Instead, we were treated to the Indian version - come whenever traffic lets you, stay many hours, feast on their food, accept their help, listen to their incredible testimonies, linger longer and plan 5 other times to see each other the next week. </div>
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This is the entirety of their home. Mansi is being instructed where to find the only two glass glasses which are reserved for company. All they own are in those cabinets and in the one underneath the bed where Ty & I sat. Never did they apologize for their house like we tend to do (sorry for the mess, excuse the old furniture, etc), but they told us how grateful they were to have it. They know someone who is looking for a house but sadly, he can't afford one in their neighborhood. </div>
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We were treated to such kind hospitality - they went to great lengths to make sure we knew we were welcomed and that we enjoyed visiting their house. The orange chips are spicy for Ty and the light ones are not spicy for me and the cookies are sweet for everyone - Mansi explained this to us as we sipped our cold soda purchased just moments ago because they don't have a refrigerator.</div>
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We laughed and enjoyed great stories while getting to know each other better. For the first time since he was 10, Ty sat on a seat high enough off the ground to swing his feet :) Okay, it's the brother's bed but it doubles as a couch during the day. The rest of the family sleeps on the floor together.</div>
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Ty tried to give a short message on prayer, but Rubina has a giant testimony on the power of prayer - "I pray all day long and have many conversations with God. He helps me. I know He does." Indians have the gift of speech and we heard the best home teaching message on prayer and scripture reading "All my coworkers know I read my scriptures. I come to work early and that's what I do first thing always I am found reading my scriptures. No one bothers with me. They say, 'don't bother with her - she is reading her scriptures!' so they leave me alone. Every day it is like this only."</div>
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As we slowly made our exit over many pleas to 'come visit any time - no call required!' and planned to meet up again later on, I looked at those two women with their beaming faces so happy that we would come to share food with them in their home, and thought it should be called Home Blessing instead of Home Teaching. </div>
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Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217862775219452499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5219706268832576268.post-8818344222209761552014-11-28T04:07:00.000-08:002014-11-28T04:07:01.750-08:00Around the Apartment<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Here's an insider's look at expat apartment living in Mumbai. Bungalows (houses) are rare in our area so most people live in high rise apartment buildings. This is ours - we are on the top floor of a very long elevator ride which I use to make friends with fellow neighbors. We share a common "garden" with about 10 other buildings but it's only open for a few hours in the morning and a few hours in the evening.<br />
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As you enter, you stop at the security gate for them to raise the bar. Visitors have to tell the apartment number of their guests or take their best guess.<br />
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You pull under a covering to an open lobby with a security desk and your choice of 4 elevators. The guards always wave and stand up when we come through but more importantly, they stop anyone else from coming up to our floor without signing in and wearing a security pass.</div>
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There are four apartments per floor but often one person will buy two on one side and made a massive home. Our front door is on the left and is one of the plainest. People "build-out" their entrances with paneling, stone work, paint, furniture, plants, or temples. Shoes are left outside the door. We arrived home to a pile of shoes and knew the air conditioning repair guys had finally shown up! But what we really need is a double door like the one on the right so you can stay safely locked in while checking out the many people who make it passed security. Assault is, sadly, prevalent so you need to be very cautious about who you let inside. </div>
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Garbage collection happens twice a day - 10 am and 4 pm. You simply put anything you want to throw away just inside the door to the stairs and two guys ride up and down in the elevator with big cans to haul it away. In four months, I've only seen them once. These guys are pros!</div>
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The main areas of the house...Most of the oh-so-lovely furniture came with the apartment but we spruced it up a little with some artwork, bookshelves, and a piano to save my sanity ;)</div>
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The kitchen sealed the deal. We looked at dozens of apartments that all had narrow galley kitchens that lacked ovens and dishwashers. Pretend you hear an angelic choir singing because that's what I did.</div>
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Through the kitchen is a small laundry area where all our drinking, cooking, tooth brushing, and vegetable washing water sits. We use two 20 liter jugs a week which a delivery boy replaces as soon as we call. Through this room is my least favorite invention - the duct rooms.</div>
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Each room in the apartment has an individual AC compressor and and each sink has a mini hot water heater - a geyser - which take up a lot of space and create unwelcome heat. The geyser is the small white thing on the left and needs constant resetting (not a normal thing - just an old thing). To activate your hot water, flip the black switch UP - the red light indicates power is on. One cold shower and you learn really quickly to remember that step.</div>
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We had the hardest time finding a dryer that actually dries. People line dry their clothes here in these duct rooms (which are roasting hot) or out a window or on a balcony. The problem is that each duct room is wide open to the outside which translates into dust, dirt, and pigeon droppings. We finally found a good sized dryer but it's a steam dryer. Somehow it pulls the water from the clothes, converts it to hot air to dry the clothes, and then collects the remaining water in this container underneath which needs to be emptied every so often.</div>
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Down the hall we have three bedrooms, an office, and four bathrooms that each have a door leading into dusty, dirty duct rooms.</div>
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This handy gadget dehumidifies the air and gives my hair a chance to look normal around the house. Two of them work 24/7 and both are full each morning when we wake up. Light switches are another really tricky experience. The few electrical outlets are located halfway up the wall on some of the light switch panels, but you have to remember to turn on the outlets or nothing will work - not even the air conditioners. Indians find it wasteful to leave the sockets on so workmen, cleaners, or even guests will switch them all off but I don't notice until my phone isn't charged or dinner isn't cooking or the house is roasting hot. The dial turns on a fan and the little circles on a switch mean there's another switch somewhere in the apartment that operates that same light. There are SO many switches that we still have no idea which one does what or where the twin is. When Ty locks up for bed I can hear "click, click, click, click, click,click" as he searches for the winning combo.</div>
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I've saved the best for last - the perks of long elevator waits and 10 minute rides while you stop at every conceivable floor - the roof top terrace! The flight of stairs just inside the front door lead to this oasis.</div>
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This wonderful little place we've found to get away from the craziness of India is finally starting to feel like home and that's made all the difference. Now, bring on the visitors!</div>
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Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217862775219452499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5219706268832576268.post-29294545592196011592014-11-17T17:31:00.000-08:002014-11-17T17:31:03.255-08:00A Secure Job<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The terrorist attacks on Mumbai in 2008 inadvertently created a lot of jobs. Security guards were suddenly en vogue and every store, restaurant, hotel, office and apartment building hired them by the dozen to stand at their new gates, collect at their entrances, and to sit in their elevators. Years later, the rituals are firmly entrenched while the actual security part is highly questionable. Most seem really bored and uninterested like this guard at the cell phone store.<br />
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We walk through 'security' check points many times throughout our day, we beep and buzz as we step through metal detectors, my purse is scanned and physically rummaged through, a hand wand is ceremoniously waved in our vicinity, but no one has ever given any of the beeping or flashing red lights a second thought.<br />
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For example, a trip to the mall requires everyone to pass through security gates at the street, security guards outside the main doors, and airport style security checks at every entrance.<br />
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The men go through metal detectors to the left, beep loudly, step on a small platform, get wanded, beep several more times, and walk away. Women go to the right, bags are inspected then scanned while the women enter a curtained booth for a wanding experience, beep several times, and walk away.</div>
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Once you're inside the mall, each store has their own security guards with places like the movie theater and grocery stores having a second set of security personnel, metal detectors, booths and wanders. No store will let you enter if you have shopping bags or back packs. A purse is okay, but all other items have to be checked at a counter either outside the store or just inside the door to the store. It is a serious deterrent for shopping - you think long and hard about whether you REALLY want to browse through a store when you know you have to stand in another line to check in your bags and then again to claim them once you leave.</div>
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Any purchase you make inside the store, HAS to be stamped by the security guard on your way out. Oh, and by the way, photography is forbidden. </div>
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It is virtually impossible to return things, but if you want to loose your patience and several hours of your life, you need to present a stamped receipt that every employee in the store will feel impelled to study and ruminate on it. If you pay in cash, a second worker has to circle and initial the change given back to you verifying that you actually received it - or more likely, that they didn't keep it.</div>
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Even the little grocery stores in our tiny town have metal detectors and bag-check counters. I avoid the Dmart that's popular with the Indian shoppers because you have to wait in an additional line to have your purse zip-tied shut. The cashier has to snip it open at check-out to make sure you haven't swiped something while shopping. This is the Haiko where I do most of my shopping - you can see the clumping of people at the entrance as they wait to get in. You have to grab your grocery cart before entering and hand it to a security guard while another one watches you beep your way through a metal detector before handing your cart back. I keep trying to side-step the metal detectors but while our elderly guard may not care that you beep, he really cares that you attempt to avoid beeping.</div>
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When we first arrived, I was constantly getting chased down for not getting receipts stamped or for walking around a security check-point. Now, I rarely give it a second thought. The other day I actually caught myself chasing down a distracted receipt-stamper to get my verification in ink - my very own gold star for a safe and legal shopping experience. No security guards at a restaurant, store, office, or apartment?!? Why, that feels completely unnatural and is the reason why the security guard's job is the most secure thing in India.</div>
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Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217862775219452499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5219706268832576268.post-15373696433976682982014-11-12T03:58:00.003-08:002014-11-12T03:58:27.442-08:00Let Me Tell You 'Bout My Best Friend<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Relationships between boys and girls are considerably different in India than in Western countries. Schools and activities are strictly segregated so unless they have siblings, girls grow up associating only with other girls and boys grow up hanging out with other boys. Dating is non-existent, but longed for, and the young single adults in our branch (we have a lot of them) dream about how wonderful American church dances must be - not only do you get to <i>talk</i> with a girl/boy but you get to <i>touch</i> their <i>hand</i>! One of our YSA girls actually went on a "date" with a visiting returned missionary this week. They met at KFC and had a fast food dinner (very little talking and definitely no hand touching) that sent the entire branch into wild marriage speculations, massive amounts of grinning, and knowing head-wagging. She will never be able to talk about anything else!<br />
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So the stigma of boy/girl association is quite prevalent, but nonexistent when it comes to guys hanging out with guys. One of the bigger surprises for me were the shear number of guys who ride on motorcycles together. It's so common that when you don't see two guys riding together, you're surprised and hope they are on their way to pick up a friend.<br />
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It's also fairly common to see three guys scrunched together on a motorcycle.<br />
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What really shocked me into asking piles of questions, were the frequent sightings of guys holding hands. It turns out that holding hands or walking with an arm on another's shoulder indicates a relationship so close that you would trust your life to that person. It's a sign of a bond stronger than brotherhood and it's envied by those who don't have it. Indian men are proud of their friendships.<br />
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Normally on a Sunday, we have a substitute driver so Sabby can spend the day with his family and at his own church. This particular Sunday, though, Sabby decided to drive us. He had never seen Ty in a suit before and was very impressed. As we got out of the car, Sabby had a favor to ask, "Sir, could I have a photo with you? And will you put your right hand on my right shoulder - just like this - and hold your brief case in the other hand? Very nice, Sir. You are looking very smart. This is most excellent, Sir. My friends will not believe that this is me!" </div>
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And that is how Ty got his new best friend. Sabby, who I'm certain <i>would</i> lay down his life for Ty, never gets tired of telling me how wonderful 'Sir' is and how blessed he feels by God to work for him and just yesterday he texted me, "I will also be by Sir's side. I'm very happy to be at his service." It would be ridiculous if it wasn't so sweet. There isn't a moment where Sabby doesn't jump to Ty's defense and extol all his virtues. No wonder Indians are proud of their relationships - they have this friend thing perfected.<br />
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Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217862775219452499noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5219706268832576268.post-80175858165108427102014-11-04T00:49:00.003-08:002014-11-04T00:59:02.256-08:00A Hindu Funeral<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I walked past this structure several times when we were at the beach a few weeks ago without paying it much attention.<br />
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Later, Sabby (our driver) walked by with me once and casually said, "Ma'am, this is for Hindu funerals." Stunned that it wasn't some sort of picnic pavilion remnant, I made sure I had heard him correctly, "Do you mean that this is where people cremate bodies?" Indeed, that is exactly what he meant. My Western sensibilities had just assumed cremation took place inside a building that had a closed incinerator. Fascinated by my lack of knowledge, the entire branch started teaching me about Hindu funerals.<br />
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After much animated debating between themselves, this is what they decided I should know:<br />
1. When someone dies, they are cremated within a day - the quicker the better.<br />
2. The relatives and friends wrap the body in a sheet, cover it with flowers, and walk in a procession down the street to the nearest cremation center.<br />
3. Sometimes there is a lot of crying and emotion in the procession (which is mostly men).<br />
4. Someone with an offering walks in front.<br />
5. The family stacks loads of wood to make a base (considerable debate about which type of wood - I think pine might have won...).<br />
6. The body is placed on the wood base with most believing that you took the sheet off to view the face during cremation - a kind of good-bye moment.<br />
7. More wood is piled on top.<br />
8. A family member lights the wood (no agreement on who gets to do this) and everyone stands back to watch. They all vehemently agreed that standing back was VERY important because the brain will 'pop' and you don't want to be a part of that (vigorous head wagging).<br />
9. After the body has finished burning, the ashes are gathered and carried to the nearest body of moving water. It seems they prefer rivers but any water that isn't stationary will do. This is the reason all cremation areas are built next to rivers or seas.<br />
10. The ashes are scattered over the water - none are kept in a vase or container (I asked and they thought it was the most backwards suggestion - who in the world would want to keep ashes in a container in their house?!? That idea was so ludicrous to them that they couldn't think of anything to say (a first) nor find the strength to wag their heads). Oddly, no one seemed to mind the fact that in addition to all the excrement and garbage already polluting their water, there were also human ashes (lots of them!) in the mix.<br />
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Armed with my new-found knowledge, I started noticing cremation sites all along my normal route. The beige building in both pictures is the same one from different views. I have seen this so many times and never knew what it was.<br />
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Some neighborhoods do use incinerators - their tell-tale narrow black smoke stacks can be seen all over the city (now that I know what to look for). The first one is a very popular one.</div>
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And sure enough, off to the side about a half mile down the road from one, there was a procession.</div>
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Without Sabby, I'm fairly certain I would have missed all of these things. To people in India, it is a normal part of their lives - they think nothing of it. They were surprised at my ignorance and amused at my curiosity and I am left wondering about what else I'm missing. One more down, about a hundred left to go!</div>
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Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217862775219452499noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5219706268832576268.post-50284329683685582042014-11-01T04:46:00.001-07:002014-11-01T04:46:06.695-07:00Water Worries<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
One of my biggest worries when moving to India was the water. An article in the newspaper shortly after we arrived confirmed that worry. It stated that "Mumbai flushes up to 80% of untreated sewerage directly into the sea" causing fish to stop breeding within 4 km and forcing fishermen "to go up to 150 kms to catch fish." Samples of sea water have excessively high fecal bacteria. Drinking water consistently contains unsafe levels of e coli and many other undesirables. Every time we come across any body of water, we see people going to the bathroom in it among piles of garbage and debris. It's enough to make you clutch your bottled water and say a prayer of gratitude!<br />
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Water delivery is a thriving business. We use bottled water for everything - cooking, washing perishables, drinking, brushing teeth - and within 15 minutes of calling, a couple of guys show up at our door with three 20 liter containers for about $4.50. They are a welcome sight! Remembering not to open our mouths in the shower is harder than you'd think and you can always tell when you've forgotten. No one enjoys the consequence of having 'a funny tummy.'</div>
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Most people don't have the luxury of affording bottled water - in fact, many don't have any kind of running water. In an effort to discourage new slums from being formed, a law was passed a decade and half ago that banned running water from being installed in those communities. Ones like this one that have main water lines running right through them simply tap illegally into the line.</div>
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Others run hoses from water lines and residents collect water and fill their personal water barrels. </div>
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Nearly all residents in Mumbai have times when water is available - usually only twice a day for an hour at a time. Someone has to be at the house then to fill up all the containers. Church members talk about how their day is scheduled around water times. In larger apartment buildings like ours, the building has a massive water storage container in the basement which they fill up at the appointed times so residents have water whenever they turn on their taps. Some buildings have their water storage on the top like this one.</div>
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I'm always surprised at how resilient and resourceful the people are here. The things that I think of as a challenge (not being able to use the tap water), they see as a blessing (just having tap water). India is certainly putting my perceptions into a new light.</div>
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Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217862775219452499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5219706268832576268.post-3760033994713054172014-10-29T07:25:00.002-07:002014-10-29T07:25:55.568-07:00Branch Beach Activity<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
On one of India's many holidays, our branch decided to have an activity 3 hours away at a beach. For weeks the chatter at church was solely on this grand adventure which grew in exuberance as the members found out we would be traveling by an air conditioned bus instead of the more prevalent no air kind. Indian people are ridiculously late to things - several hours, a day, or even a week or two are shrugged off as normal - so a 20 minute lecture on timeliness was adamantly stressed. No one wanted to miss this incredible chance to go on a holiday for free and proved it by being at the pick-up spots before the sun rose. So many unplanned members showed up that the bus had no room left. No problem - they all piled in anyway three to a seat while Ty & I willingly sacrificed our place and followed in our car. It was an excellent choice as a number of members were repeatedly sick from the travel conditions.<br />
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The three hour drive through the countryside was quite the experience. The national "highway" turned out to be a narrow two-lane road so full of potholes we never reached 30 mph. No one stays in their lane (the picture below on the left is supposed to be two-ways) and every few minutes we'd have a traffic jam when oncoming traffic forced drivers to merge into their own side of the road.<br />
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The countryside was full of brightly colored houses (bungalows) that were beautiful and unique. I finally understood why all the Indian trucks are painted like they are - the drivers come from the countryside villages and miss the vibrant colors once they are in the concrete city.</div>
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Some of the members had never been to a beach and all of them were thrilled with the opportunity. But I was surprised to see that none of them brought swim wear - they all just wandered right out into the ocean in the clothes they were wearing and would wear for the rest of the day. They thought the pony and cart rides up and down the beach were 'fantastic!'</div>
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But by far the highlight of the day were the games. To be honest, when I heard they were playing games after lunch at a nearby restaurant, I assumed people would rather swim and that the children would be impossible to keep from the water. I was oh so wrong. The adults completely ignored the children - they were so excited to play the games from their childhood that I think they forgot they even had children! Their favorite is kabbadi - the state's national sport. You have two teams that take turns crossing the center line to try and touch an opposing team member while continuously chanting "kabbadi". If they manage to touch someone and get back safely across the line, the person they touched is out. If not, if they are tackled or pushed out of bounds, then they are out. Huge debates were a standard part of every turn.</div>
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Ty's huge size made him a mvp for his team and a dreaded opponent for the other. After he mistakenly dragged two players over the line instead of just touching them, the other team ganged up on him.</div>
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The huge success of the branch activity and the kabbadi games have continued to be a hot topic at church to the point that an investigator family who attended requested Ty to baptize the dad. It seems he was very impressed with his size and his gaming strategy :) I can't wait to see what they come up with for the next event!</div>
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Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217862775219452499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5219706268832576268.post-43980246750837567022014-10-20T07:58:00.001-07:002014-10-20T07:58:12.041-07:00One Good Man<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We have become really attached to our driver, Sabby. I would never survive India if it wasn't for him taking care of us and handling all the crazy things that we don't understand. So when I found out his birthday was coming up and that his family hasn't celebrated it since he was 10 years old (his dad died on his birthday that year), I knew we had to do something special for him. We got him a gift and made him a chocolate cake covered in candles and told him to take it home and celebrate with his family.<br />
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He still hasn't gotten over that simple thing. He didn't want to disrespect his dad, so the entire family waited up the night before until 12:03 am to sing and eat the cake. He talks about how that was the greatest thing anyone has ever done for him. So when my birthday rolled around, Sabby showed up with his family, a lovely chocolate cake, and sang their hearts out for me - all because we made his birthday special.<br />
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They traditionally feed each other a bite of cake and would not have a piece until Ty fed me a bite and then I had to feed him one. They were so sweet! It was a big sacrifice for them to come do this.</div>
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So when I saw a chance to do something nice back, I took it. This past week Sabby had to send a substitute driver because his children came down with the Dengue fever which requires daily trips to the hospital to check the platelet count. I was running errands in his neighborhood and asked if I could drop off some ice cream for the children. I expected to just hand the ice cream to him, but he surprised me once again and insisted I come up to his apartment.</div>
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This is his entire apartment. Behind the curtain is a very small stove and refrigerator and a mattress that his mother and adopted niece sleep on. The picture is taken from the doorway. Everyone sleeps on the floor in about the spots where they are sitting. Lol, they all stood in their sleeping spots for me, except for the two extra extended family members who sleep in the hallway because there isn't any room left inside.</div>
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I also found out that in addition to caring for his niece and nephew (who he adopted when they were small children), he also cares for 2 of his wife's nephews from her village (the hall sleepers), and then these three cute nieces who live too far from a good school. But, he assured me, they only stay there Monday through Friday. This good man feeds and cares for all of these people in this tiny place (10 of them!) plus others that live in his wife's village. I was suddenly very embarrassed by the size of our apartment and the fact that there's only two of us...</div>
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As if Sabby wasn't already saintly enough, when he heard I was stopping by he went out and bought chips and a soda so he would have something to offer me. They all stood/sat watching me eat. No one else would have any with me - they considered it rude to eat with such an important guest. Sabby even called the entire family home and placed me in the seat of honor next to his beautiful mother. You can see my tray reflected in the mirror along with Sabby's son Mavrick who, despite feeling miserable was a great host himself.</div>
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They were so honored that I would come visit them in their tiny home. They treated me like a was a queen! When I finally convinced them that I needed to go and that they needed their rest, I was walked down the hall and introduced to neighbors as "Madam." They were so proud that I would come visit them. And here I thought I was going to do them a good (but quick) deed and they ended up showing me what it means to be a good person. India is full of surprises.</div>
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Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217862775219452499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5219706268832576268.post-83806962952203266892014-10-17T04:12:00.000-07:002014-10-17T04:12:23.881-07:00Mumbai Mobile Creche<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There are some good-hearted people in India helping to make a difference through Non-Governmental Organizations (NGOs). The poverty and living conditions either spur you to do something about it or to eventually to see it as normal. I discovered a group of women who spend several days a week at a school for migrant children and knew I needed to be a part of what they're doing.<br />
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This little 3 room school was built by an NGO to help villagers who had come to the city in search of work. It serves as a daycare and a way to supplement the public education the children are supposed to be going to but most do not. The parents work at construction sites and the families live in a small sections of these tin barracks.<br />
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We come in and teach basic lessons in English, do an activity, feed them a snack and give them a chance to develop small motor skills. Some of these children could not even hold a pencil when they arrived. It's amazing how fast they catch on!</div>
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These kids just steal your heart without even trying. There are about 20 children in this small room and they think nothing of sitting all intertwined. In fact, I think they are happier that way! Every chance they get, they pile on top of you.</div>
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They LOVE getting their photos taken. They crowd in front of the camera and demand, "Deedee! (Teacher) PHOTO please!" Then they will not leave until you show them their photo and then they crack up and want you to take even more photos. In the four weeks I've been going, I must have hundreds of pictures. In one, the children have made lanterns to decorate their classroom for Diwali and in the other they get the rare treat of playing with bubbles for Diwali.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsLs4aPJdDsEijAPNh5-lb41ePW6lkqf8-6nAYHiDEMnvDvjpc0XKBW0VELD6Q7Vyo3k_t0b2iJiHbBBYctESHPgJ9mLAyQdQS7hbL2bDHeyEZMgeaMhSjrux-G3WmvOZq3GUuRiDtQVg/s1600/IMG_7920.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsLs4aPJdDsEijAPNh5-lb41ePW6lkqf8-6nAYHiDEMnvDvjpc0XKBW0VELD6Q7Vyo3k_t0b2iJiHbBBYctESHPgJ9mLAyQdQS7hbL2bDHeyEZMgeaMhSjrux-G3WmvOZq3GUuRiDtQVg/s1600/IMG_7920.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKQxMNxybFpgOMEcIvx8QzTsFKRPVDX07wBzp4cIYpbJ5z-9nDqF3XK-uKn2hALrO5Y-usqbIjnL7q8XIUH1Z5zthnhAEvBRE7Wm65zJ2C3I_xU2qMqfKQJNOnxyZd2uslYJyG8tdYIy8/s1600/IMG_8208.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKQxMNxybFpgOMEcIvx8QzTsFKRPVDX07wBzp4cIYpbJ5z-9nDqF3XK-uKn2hALrO5Y-usqbIjnL7q8XIUH1Z5zthnhAEvBRE7Wm65zJ2C3I_xU2qMqfKQJNOnxyZd2uslYJyG8tdYIy8/s1600/IMG_8208.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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Here are two of my favorite girls. I love making them laugh :)</div>
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The time spent with these kids are the best hours of my week. Their happy attitudes brighten my day. With any luck, these children will avoid a life of begging and living on the pavement. I'm hoping the English they are learning will give them an advantage in life so they can keep these adorable smiles!</div>
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Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217862775219452499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5219706268832576268.post-80836561346738225972014-10-08T01:46:00.001-07:002014-10-08T01:46:33.562-07:00Learning the Old Wives' Tales<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
As we continue to settle into life, I'm discovering things aren't as mysterious as I sometimes assume they are. Take these pictures for example:<br />
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They are all about an hour away from each other but I started noticing that they are popping up more frequently. I assumed "beanbag" was a code name for someone and wanted to know what it was since there really isn't any graffiti here. I finally asked my driver who this "beanbag" person was. He said, "Ma'am, it's just that if you want a bean bag chair this person will bring it to you." Oh. It's an ad.</div>
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Disappointed as I was to discover beanbag wasn't a person, other Indian habits have more than made up for it.</div>
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This cute little baby is the newest addition to our branch. The mother (and baby) showed up at the General Women's Broadcast with cotton stuffed into each ear. Assuming she had ear problems or even surgery, I asked what was the matter with her poor ears. All the Indian women informed me (very passionately) that the cotton was for her recent delivery. "The ear is an opening into the body, no?, and the body cannot have anything coming into it after pregnancy. It's very bad for the mother and for the baby. They are very fragile at this time." A lot of head wagging confirmed this feeling. So for 8 more months, this new mother will stuff cotton into the opening her ears have caused in an effort to prevent poor healing from delivery. She will also tie a bandage tightly around her stomach or it will stay looking pregnant, she will block her baby's ears with mufflers so his body opening doesn't do him harm, and avoid putting herself into any water. That last one made perfect sense to me so I wagged my head with the best of them. The water here is very polluted.</div>
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As the ladies continued to chat and share birthing myths, one asked a young mom if she was going to shave her baby's head next month when her daughter turned one. Shocked because her daughter has such beautiful black hair, I discovered that they believe a girl's birth hair needs to be removed in order for her hair to grow in properly - not a boy's. Sure enough, when I peeked in at the migrant school daycare, the one-year-old girls have their heads shaved and the older ones were growing theirs out. </div>
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Someone with a bad cough and fever told me they only lacked vitamins when I suggested they should see a doctor. In general Indians don't drink anything while they eat (the food cannot digest properly if you drink and eat) and will only drink warm water (room temperature). They find chilled water to be nasty and tell us that it makes our blood coagulate. They worry over us expats and our neglectful behavior in drinking cold water throughout the meal. "This is very bad for you, sister!" </div>
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No amount of reasoning or explaining will change their mind. You just have to master the perfect head wag to convey that you don't agree but will stop arguing anyway while you wait for the next Big Reveal you never suspected.</div>
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Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217862775219452499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5219706268832576268.post-83285508307856149692014-09-21T20:57:00.002-07:002014-09-21T21:08:24.120-07:00An Indian Stamp<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's a common joke that when the British ruled India, they introduced bureaucracy, and when they left, the Indians perfected it. And what perfection!<br />
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Ty has been trying to lease an office space for several months. After negotiating basic details and the price, he had to sign a Letter of Intent stating officially that he wished to negotiate a lease and listing all of his requirements. The owner responded and signed saying what he would be willing to do. After that was agreed upon and validated on company letterhead, a copy of his passport, his visa, and a photograph were added. THEN the actual lease agreement could be drawn, checked by lawyers, and sent away to be stamped.<br />
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All along we've heard about the Company Stamp. Every company needs one and usually only one. Apparently it is a powerful tool that validates a document and ours is held in Delhi with the accountants. So every time we need something stamped, which is surprisingly frequent, we rush the papers to Delhi and have them expressed back. With the lease signing pending, and lots of stamping to be done, the Company Stamp was hand carried and put in Ty's possession. I expected something grand. I imagined it as an official seal pressed into the paper. This is what arrived:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVSdU7ZmHcnCGgte1oJiqA34WYP79cRzwXHqcnv5zqD752BQ_XYikdWycDctM-b-fq5PShUnoSDBCqNgsPGIxiLR671MYS_2CW9QfvTT-fnOs-3DdOGF6pSNSSOZux8SpgDOfScJ0u-80/s1600/IMG_6533.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVSdU7ZmHcnCGgte1oJiqA34WYP79cRzwXHqcnv5zqD752BQ_XYikdWycDctM-b-fq5PShUnoSDBCqNgsPGIxiLR671MYS_2CW9QfvTT-fnOs-3DdOGF6pSNSSOZux8SpgDOfScJ0u-80/s1600/IMG_6533.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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With the pitiful stamp in hand and the lease signed, the next step was to register the lease. To do that, both parties, and all their brokers, had to appear in person together at the registrar's office in the district where the owner's lease was originally registered. Thankfully these legal offices appear to be open 24/7. Our appointment was at 7:00 pm across town and by 7:30 pm an Indian miracle occurred as everyone had finally arrived for the thumb print to be added next to the photo.<br />
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The all-important stamp was produced and flourished without any of the pomp or circumstances that we had hoped.</div>
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The lease is now completely official! We can proceed to the next bureaucratic hurdle - the Foreign Resident's Registration Office (FRRO) where we can apply for our Personal Account Number (PAN) and finally, finally get cell phones and a bank account. I'm pretty sure at some point next week, our registered lease will end up in one of these many "files" that overflowed from every possible corner. This one was in the waiting room where the ever present cricket game was showing.</div>
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As we left, Ty said, "Wait! I need to get the company stamp back. I don't want to forget that!" To which our broker laughed and said, "Don't worry! I had one made last week so I could stamp things."</div>
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Where there's Indian bureaucracy, there's an Indian way around it!</div>
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Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217862775219452499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5219706268832576268.post-85884328200557740892014-09-20T02:58:00.001-07:002014-09-20T03:02:39.266-07:00To Give or Not To Give<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Slums make up 47% of Mumbai so it's impossible not to witness scenes of poverty wherever you venture. How to "fix" India is a favorite discussion topic but that's really all talk - no action. At some point during your week or your day, you will get a knock on your car window and you'll have to decide what to do about it.<br />
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Beggars, in all their variety, try to earn a living by asking for money from people in cars. It's always at the busiest intersections where the signal lights are long. The disabled, the mother's with babies, the "holy" men, and the children forge through the congested traffic tapping on car windows with empty milk bottles or canes, needing very little help to appear pitiful. Chopped off limbs or dirty bandages will be waved in your direction and babies will be smacked to produce compelling tears.</div>
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Picture taking is a sure invitation and all the beggars will gather at your window demanding money for the picture you just took. If you are white, your skin color declares your relative wealth and they never leave the window until the signal forces them away. This undeterred women was trying to convince the bus driver and all his passengers to give her rupees.</div>
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The beggars live on the pavement and set up veritable villages under the city overpasses creating bottlenecks and opportunities.</div>
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It's usually the children who are sent out to navigate unfriendly traffic and customers while the women socialize and tend the plethora of small babies. We've been told many times that the mafia is behind this scheme and that the beggars themselves keep very little of what they make. Still, the face pressed against your window is a real person. </div>
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What do you do while your driver locks the doors? Do you pretend you don't see? That's the most common response. Do you act like you're sleeping? That's not unusual. Some favor handing out water bottles or chocolates instead of money. It lessens the guilt but comes with its own problems of crowd attraction and carrying enough supplies. Signs posted around parks order you not to give to or encourage begging. Begging is a problem all over the city. Occasionally I've seen people crack their windows or lean out of a bus to give a few rupees to a disfigured beggar but not to any others. There are rumors that people have been purposefully maimed in order to make a profit begging.</div>
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As I witness another roadside camp being set up and children pushed into a life that is not their choice, I force myself to look them in the eye when they knock. I don't know what else to do or how to "fix" this situation - but I know I don't want to encourage it. I also know that when I sadly but firmly shake my head no, I want to convey that's it's the principle, not the person I'm saying no to.</div>
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Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217862775219452499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5219706268832576268.post-42247431861832698332014-09-12T07:49:00.000-07:002014-09-12T07:52:02.195-07:00Festival Time<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Upon arriving back in India from a brief trip home, we witnessed our first Indian festival. Like many things here, I'm not so sure I fully understand what's really happening.<br />
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The Hindu people worship many gods but select one as their main god. Ganesh is a favorite choice as he represents good luck and this is his 10 day festival. Numerous small shrines pop up for the occasion and families go out and buy a special Ganesh idol to take home and worship for a few days.<br />
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Sales are brisk and families eat only veg to show their willingness to worship while the idol is in their home. All over town groups or individuals sponsor large Ganesh statues where people can come make an offering (money, flowers, and food) and receive a blessing. Awards were given to the largest, most decorative, most visited, and most eco-friendly Ganesh statues in the city.</div>
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Then, on either day 1 1/2, day 3, day 5, day 7, or day 10 (depending on how long you want to fast from meat) with day 10 being reserved as the most exciting day as the giant statues are all immersed, the family loads up their personal idol and makes a festive trek to the nearest immersion point located at a natural body of water.<br />
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They unload their family idol onto a table where they worship and say their good-byes to Ganesh. Boisterous singing, chanting, drum banging, chalk throwing, all serve to express their feelings.</div>
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When the family has finished, the statue is blessed and handed over to one of the men waiting to take it out in the water for immersion. Our lake had the added threat of crocodiles.</div>
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It is loaded onto a floating dock with other family's idols and one by one each idol is gently submersed in the water and brought back up only to be lowered down permanently. All of the idols are left to live out the remainder of their lives in the water. Environmental concerns have prompted people to favor plaster-of-paris versions that will dissolve in a matter of hours, but with so many thousands of idols being left in the lakes and oceans the amount of dead fish and pollution resulting from this tradition is astounding.</div>
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The good-byes finished, the family wraps up their celebration with some fruit and candied offerings before heading home.</div>
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All the large tents are dismantled and people resume normal life waiting for their next big festival which happens in two weeks. That's when the lady god Durga will get to celebrate 9 nights of dancing and have her chance at immersion. </div>
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Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217862775219452499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5219706268832576268.post-77389440678251290102014-08-16T05:21:00.001-07:002014-08-16T05:21:41.832-07:00Home Sweet Home<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
For two months we've been living at the hotel's extended stay apartments in a cozy two-bedroom waiting out one delay after another that's prevented us from moving into the apartment we found back in May.<br />
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Some people choose to live at the hotel permanently but it's very isolated, expensive, and lacks a washer/dryer. Plus it feels like a hotel. With two weeks left before leaving to take Danielle home to college, our relocation guru showed us a few new apartments that were cheaper and available immediately. A week later we have a lovely new home with an actual kitchen, neighbors, and shops within walking distance. Oh, and several scary showers that we scrubbed for hours before being able to photograph them. Some things you just don't want to remember...</div>
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The apartment came furnished with the basics which helps because the plan was to bring as little as possible with us in our 7 suitcases and rely on India to supply the rest. We discovered that we tend to live very differently - the things we use daily just aren't a part of Indian life. Here they cook on a single portable burner and don't use ovens. Some are starting to use microwaves but if they have a refrigerator, it's a very small half-sized one. Things like saran wrap and ziplock bags just don't exist. Frying pans are everywhere but baking pans, cookie sheets, or muffin tins are not available. Even bathing and sleeping habits are very different so the towels are small and thin (for fast drying) and most use a single flat sheet to cover the family as they sleep together on the floor in the un-airconditioned multipurpose room. Mattresses, blankets, and good pillows are just not must-haves for them.</div>
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Basically, the items that millions of Indians use are very cheap and plentiful, while the items foreigners use are imported, expensive, and difficult (or impossible) to find. A few emails later, our angel daughter boxed up some fitted sheets, good-sized bath towels, ziplock bags, baking tins, food processor, kitchen-aid mixer, crock pot, and dishwasher tablets. These unspeakably precious items have been sitting at the airport customs department waiting for us to move into the apartment before delivering them. Oh happy day!!! </div>
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That made the mold and the cat and the pigeons that we inherited seem like small things (at least for a day).</div>
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With the pigeon problem being tackled, the cat being rounded up (he is very elusive), and deep cleaning underway, Danielle packed her bags and said good-bye to her Iron Man sheets and our new home.</div>
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She has been a huge blessing - bringing laughter, friendship, and elbow grease to all sorts of crazy situations. It doesn't seem real she won't be there when we get back, but I will always think of her sitting in her new "spot" - the one she claimed on the day she said, "Now THIS place feels like home!" - and right between the fantastic American-sized refrigerator and an actual oven :) </div>
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Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217862775219452499noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5219706268832576268.post-88330661373855702732014-08-07T19:36:00.000-07:002014-08-07T19:41:41.757-07:00Tomorrow Land<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
People want to know, “How is India?” Crazy doesn’t begin to describe it, but these two examples might.<br />
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We bought cell phones upon arrival which, incidentally, do not come with cell phone service. That requires a completely separate store that you should never approach without a complete set of “must haves.” You must have your cell phone, your passport, your visa, your proof of living address (registered and stamped by the police), your proof of ability to pay, and your proof of employment.<br />
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With those in hand, have your driver take you on a 20-25 minute drive to a very small cell phone service store and hope someone speaks understandable English. Once you’ve waited in line for about an hour, the paperwork takes another 30 minutes and a passport photo to complete. Lucky you must leave the service store with a partially working cell phone – out-going calls only – until an employee visits you at your residence to verify that you actually live where you just said (and proved) that you live. If that person fails to type in a verification code within 24 hours, your service is cutoff and you have to go back to the service store. The one hour line should have given us a heads up….<br />
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Living at a hotel’s extended-stay apartments, someone is ALWAYS at the front desk to verify that you live there. Always. We were rejected 5 times for non-verification before we gave up waiting in the same line 20 minutes away and tried a completely different cell phone with new phone numbers but the same results. After one month of unspeakable frustration, our Indian friends called and used their Hindi on them. It involved a lot of yelling. We have now been mostly connected for one month. I really must learn Hindi.<br />
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Over a month ago, Ty went chair shopping. He needed a comfortable chair for his temporary home office.<br />
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On a Wednesday we sat in all the chairs at Hometown and found one that Danielle said was “sic!” The sales person wanted us to take the floor model but it was wobbly. We opted to have one delivered. Ty said, “I need it this week.” The guys said, “we can deliver in 10 days.” But that wasn’t this week… so the guy had a pow-wow with another guy in Hindi and then said, “We deliver Saturday. If no come, then come next day.” Got it. If the chair doesn’t show up Saturday, it will show up Sunday. Perfect – the front desk guys will be there all day. Ty tells all of them that he’s bought a chair and to please let him know when it arrives.<br />
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Every day Ty stops and asks the front desk guys, “Has my chair come?” They say, without fail, “No, sir. There is no chair come for you.” A week and a half later, still no chair. The front desk guy takes pity and offers to call the store. He discovers that the chair has always been scheduled to be delivered after 10 days. The beaming front desk guy informs us, “It will be delivered tomorrow, sir!”<br />
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One week, and seven daily queries later, the chair still has not appeared. We get another Indian friend to call. She is told, “No one answered the phone when we came to deliver.” Dang that cell phone verification failure! Now the chair is due to arrive on the day we move into our new apartment - almost exactly one month later then the original delivery date. We take the gamble and change the delivery address. We arrive at the apartment to find a note on the door, “Hometown was unable to deliver. Please call.” They actually showed up but on the wrong day. Still no chair but a little hope because it actually almost happened. These ads all over the city are starting to make sense...<br />
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Our Hindi speaking friend calls and reschedules for the next day. I cannot believe our luck when I open the door and see two guys from Hometown with a big box. The chair has arrived! They come in and open the box and I leave them carefully setting out the bevy of pieces on the floor. A few minutes later they want me to sign for each and every piece of the chair and then they put on their shoes and head for the door. “Wait!!! You need to put it together!” “Sorry. We warehouse. Installer come. You must call.” Never in a million years will I make that call. The chair is here – 23 pieces feels like a miracle that we can assemble.<br />
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Ty tackles the chair the following morning. He has most of it done when the doorbell rings. Of all the crazy things in this crazy place that often makes no sense to me, the installers (who we never called) have voluntarily showed up to assemble the nearly completed chair.<br />
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With the move into the new apartment we have inherited a host of situations where someone will come “tomorrow” – the installation of internet, dryer installation, glass shower partition, electrician for the air conditioner, microwave repair man, water purifier serviceman, pigeon net installer, new cell phone verification (we have to do the phone thing all over again with a different carrier who has signal in our area). All these people were supposed to be here Tuesday - Monday’s Tomorrow. Today is Friday and the list of unseen tomorrow-ites is piling up despite our team of 4 Hindi friends calling and yelling several times a day.<br />
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How is India, you ask. Let me tell you, INDIA IS A BEAST!!!! It will toy with you, frustrate you, confound you, make you want to do unspeakable things and then.... it will surprise and delight you in ways you never imagined. That's how India is.<br />
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Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217862775219452499noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5219706268832576268.post-38827487548550139802014-08-03T10:18:00.002-07:002014-08-03T10:18:55.012-07:00Two Amazing People<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There are some people you should meet. They are a few of the members of our little branch who have quietly been an inspiration to me.<div>
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Marisha is the one in red helping someone's little girl eat some food from our branch president's farewell potluck several weeks ago. She comes to church with her aunt and uncle who care for her and her younger sister despite the fact that money and food are scarce. Her mother is there but the situation is not good.</div>
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The entire extended family live in a tiny one-room shanty where Marisha works hard doing all sorts of chores. She is low man on the totem pole and bears the brunt of the daily tasks. She melts my heart with her quiet smile and unassuming ways. While most of the branch was eating and enjoying each other's company, I happened to go by the kitchen. There, from the doorway, I saw Marisha working while a few other adults chatted. She had a twig broom and with some difficulty was sweeping up the mess of scattered rice and food from under the tables and all over the floor. When I asked what she was doing, she said in a near whisper, "This is God's house." </div>
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I love Marisha and the lesson she taught me.</div>
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Syam is the first counselor in our branch. His wife Radica struggles to come regularly with their son Rithvik. </div>
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Radica and Rithvik showed up at church after an absence and with Syam's help we managed to get Rithvik to come to nursery. Primary and nursery are just becoming structured and organized according to the handbook. Our departing branch president (in the middle) would run a nursery himself when he could because the other members are new converts and need to be in class learning the gospel. The next week Rithvik came with Syam to nursery again. When I came in for singing time, he had many questions for me.</div>
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Syam: "Sister, what can I do to help the nursery."</div>
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Me: "What do you mean, brother - Do you mean toys?" (We had a broken car, one wooden spoon, and 3 crayons)</div>
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Syam: "No, sister. I found the nursery book and read it last week - the one from the Church website. It talks about lessons. I want my son to know these lessons. Could I work in the nursery? I have read 3 of the lessons and taught them to my son this week."</div>
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Me: "Wow. You did? That's amazing! Are you really offering to work in the nursery? That would be wonderful!"</div>
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Syam: "Yes, sister. I had no idea that you could teach small children the gospel like this. I want to teach my son the gospel. And, sister, I need to know where I can find that cleaning song you sang last week. I have been trying to sing it every night so my son will know to help clean when you sing it at church, but I don't know all the words. Tell me, sister, where can I find this cleaning song."</div>
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I could have kissed his feet - my jaw was low enough. Today Syam and Rithvik sang the cleaning song without any help :) </div>
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These are just two people whose faith and Christlike service have inspired me in this faraway place where I thought I would be the example.</div>
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Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217862775219452499noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5219706268832576268.post-46786764149494948322014-08-03T07:45:00.001-07:002014-08-03T07:45:42.170-07:00I Know Nothing<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
When I first moved to India, someone gave me the best advice - assume you don't know anything. My American sensibilities dominated how I perceived things and I've discovered, for the most part, that I've assumed the wrong things. More and more I learn how little I know about India and the people here.Take, for example, the traffic. Driving is a crazy experience!<br />
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The first thing that greets you morning or night is the sound of horns. They honestly never stop honking. They do a little tap when they drive along side someone. They do a double tap when someone starts drifting into them (there are no "lanes" per say). They send off a stream of taps when someone makes a move to turn in front of them. They start their impatient honking when they think the red light should be turning green and they want the cars in front of them to go anyway. They <i>lay</i> on the horn when you're in front of them driving slow and you don't move aside with their polite honking. It's definitely a loud language that they like to "speak" often.<br />
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One of my first resolutions was to find a driver that did NOT honk, because as bad as it is when other cars are honking, it's far worse when your horn never stops blaring. To top it off, all the trucks have "Horn OK Please" on the back, as if drivers needed any encouragement!<br />
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In all seriousness, I told Sabby, "Someone should start painting 'Horn <b>NOT</b> OK Please' on trucks." He laughed and laughed. He thought I was so funny and said, "Good one, ma'am!" </div>
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It was several weeks later when we were sitting at the front of a red light and an impatient autorickshaw driver way in the back honks a sad little horn trying to get people to run the red light. </div>
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Me: "Sabby, you need to get a really crazy sounding horn that lets people know you mean business - nothing wimpy like that guy's."</div>
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Sabby laughing: "That would be fantastic, ma'am!"</div>
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Me: "Let's do it, Sabby! Let's get you a really original horn."</div>
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Sabby: "Ma'am, that is not allowed."</div>
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Me: "What do you mean, not allowed?"</div>
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Sabby: "The government, ma'am. People tried to have different horns and it became very loud. Nobody liked it. The government had to make sure the horns stayed inside the bounds otherwise people would have very large and very loud horns."</div>
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Me, realizing things could actually be a lot worse: "Oh. Then while they were at it, the government should have made a law where they couldn't honk so much."</div>
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Sabby: "Well, ma'am, it's the problem of the trucks. They cause big problems. They don't care about cars. They stop where they want and they drive where they want very slowly. They cause big traffic problems. No one can move around them. The government had to make a law so they would move."</div>
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Me: "You mean the government made a law that you have to honk your horn at them?</div>
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Sabby: "Yes, ma'am"</div>
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Me: "Are you serious?!? Is that why the trucks all have 'Horn OK Please' on them?"</div>
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Sabby: "Correct, ma'am. There is a very big fine they are paying if they don't have that painted. Now everyone paints it. They don't want to give cops an excuse for a fine. There is also a big fine if you honk and the truck does not move. Now everybody honks."</div>
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Oh. Once again, I thought I understood but found out I really knew nothing. So I started looking at all the trucks who had to tell people to honk at them or pay a large fine. I looked at them as if I knew nothing. </div>
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And I decided the honking didn't bother me anymore. In fact I told Sabby he could honk anytime he wanted, within reason, of course.</div>
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Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217862775219452499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5219706268832576268.post-125195288223962012014-07-25T23:26:00.001-07:002014-07-25T23:32:23.616-07:00Home, Sabby!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The traffic in India monopolizes all conversations. It is a beast, most days. Every variety of vehicle darts through traffic searching for an opening that often doesn't exist. There are few main roads where traffic moves intermittently at a relatively fast pace (the key word is relative!). The side roads have been taken over by encroachment (people building their huts or stalls on the sidewalk/street) and navigating through those is impossibly slow. You can be an hour or more late and safely say, "traffic" with a head wag and literally no one will be mad you weren't there on time. Well, except for Westerners. We like our schedules and our punctuality and expect wine where there is no water.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhiADlp3U9lMpDpTaE_hghTHFs1uVcUZoBIH2prIBnAlS585kgcBV0CG2I8BlsdjQCYVBVtct3xBjG-_NRtI92kzZiViW-sHNB4D2Me76XrKtN5pGK2z18eVQIOrT8IdoeKEmEjDUOalg/s1600/IMG_3344.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhiADlp3U9lMpDpTaE_hghTHFs1uVcUZoBIH2prIBnAlS585kgcBV0CG2I8BlsdjQCYVBVtct3xBjG-_NRtI92kzZiViW-sHNB4D2Me76XrKtN5pGK2z18eVQIOrT8IdoeKEmEjDUOalg/s1600/IMG_3344.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
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Motorcycles - or 2 wheels as they are frequently called here - are the fastest way to get where you're going. They plow through stopped traffic and congregate at the front, they take to the "sidewalks" (more like a foot path) to move around slow cars, and they weave in and out of traffic "openings" that no sane person would consider. They have a bad reputation as dangerous and as the cause of most accidents until it takes you 1 1/2 hours to go three miles in the car (an actual experience). Then you harbor secret feelings of envy.</div>
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Those who can afford it, hire drivers to avoid the frustration of traffic and absence of parking. They run around $300 per month plus about double for the use of their car. Those who can't afford a driver ride in autorickshaws piling in their entire family and several packages. Its a cheap way to travel - about $.50 to go 5 miles - but they are slow and terribly wet during the rains.</div>
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We've been on the hunt for the perfect driver and have tested out more than 20 in our search. When we first got here, I wanted a driver who was patient, didn't honk his horn, who didn't weave in and out of traffic, and who spoke English. After a month all my priorities changed! A driver who speaks fluent "horn" (but doesn't necessarily use it), who can be the first to jump into a sudden opening in traffic, who turns to the right confidently (there are no turn signals for this - you just have to stick your front end into the mob of oncoming traffic and go!), and who knows when to take the side streets is worth his weight in gold! Meet Sabby - who more than meets his weight in gold.</div>
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Sabby owns the car service we've been using to go to Church. Most of his drivers don't speak English but Sabby does. When he offered to be our driver, we grabbed the opportunity. He is my cultural consultant. I ask him a dozen questions a day (like "why is this cow just walking down the road! Shouldn't someone come get it?") and he patiently explains India to me. Plus, he thinks I'm funny. He laughed about the cow and told me that you don't try to move holy things. He thought I was really funny when I suggested that some holy grass could move the holy cow somewhere less inconvenient.</div>
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Everywhere we drive, I spy a hundred things I don't understand. Sabby never gets tired of my questions. "What in the world is that guy doing?!? Doesn't he value his life???" Sabby laughed and said, "Yes, ma'am, he of course wants to live. There just isn't room for him in the vehicle and he must work." So I check out the guy who wants to not only live but to work as Sabby flies past him.</div>
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But the best part of having a driver comes when you need to find an item. You rarely need to find a store since there are precious few buildings that we would consider stores and every soul in India knows where those are. But if you need to find something basic like scotch tape, or a gift bag, or some bubbles for nursery, or a butcher your driver is the one who knows the exact spot in the hodge-podge of cubicle sized vendors where you can get your item at a good price. And when you are thoroughly exhausted from hunting down all those random places, you can say "home, Sabby" and he will smile and take you there the quick way.</div>
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Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217862775219452499noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5219706268832576268.post-9446201696035886742014-07-21T09:10:00.002-07:002014-07-21T09:13:44.062-07:00Arabian Sights<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So many places to go and so many new things to see... How to spot an important person.<br />
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Address stamps are a must</div>
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Between the plain clothes policemen and the extensive camera system, nothing passes unnoticed. A worker's friend was fined $140 (500 drams) by an undercover agent for chewing gum in public during Ramadan - despite being a Christian. We are waiting to see how much of our "infraction" deposit we get back...</div>
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One of these names is not like the others...<br />
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The universal language...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxHBX-uJnuzdBHXV49HGde76IeKJIbiscIFDjUCReMUHulX42tqGl_kwK6zNxzDW8a4EllQiOBLh7ZFpknIwxzMjJVwPsNzIDesZdRDWg9PVa85prBH-iUfubP7CsvtbqX6sy0f1zTtHE/s1600/IMG_4206.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxHBX-uJnuzdBHXV49HGde76IeKJIbiscIFDjUCReMUHulX42tqGl_kwK6zNxzDW8a4EllQiOBLh7ZFpknIwxzMjJVwPsNzIDesZdRDWg9PVa85prBH-iUfubP7CsvtbqX6sy0f1zTtHE/s1600/IMG_4206.JPG" height="320" width="238" /></a></div>
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Some stylish Arabians...<br />
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Benevolent leaders, with the help of wealthy oil fields, give back to the communities. This famous Formula One racing track is open to the public free each Tuesday for biking, jogging, or walking. Bottled water and bicycles are provided free of charge. Wednesday is lady's only night at the track with the addition of yoga, zumba, and other classes all paid for by the sheikh. </div>
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And the trees along the side of the freeway that is normally all dessert sand? Special sprinkler pipes send water to each one - miles upon miles of trees being fed precious water are a sign of extreme wealth and extravagance. India can make anyone feel rich, but the United Emirates makes you feel comparatively poor.</div>
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We were happy to head home (one of us having a little skip in his step due to the newly acquired candy stash and cheesecake) having loved this unique experience.</div>
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Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217862775219452499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5219706268832576268.post-90475718912869223082014-07-21T02:16:00.004-07:002014-07-21T02:16:51.211-07:00Discovering the United Arab Emirates <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We noticed an add for the world's fastest roller coaster at Ferrari World in Abu Dhabi and when Ty saw the look on Danielle's face, he booked plane tickets and off we went. A short 3 hour plane ride put us in the Middle East - a surreal concept to us.<br />
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Not sure what to expect, we were surprised to find both Dubai and Abu Dhabi cosmopolitan, beautiful, modern first world cities with exceptionally friendly people. Their English was far better than any I have heard in India - I could actually understand it! Striking architecture lined perfectly smooth, wide highways.</div>
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Thanks to "Mission Impossible", the Burj Khalifa topped our sight-seeing list. The night-time views are spectacular!</div>
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It was in a massive mall that appeared to be filled with stores, restaurants, and people from all over the world. It would have taken days to see the entire mall but what we did see was beautiful.</div>
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We all loved the Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque in Abu Dhabi. It is absolutely stunning!</div>
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It was Ramadan which is their holy month. They fast from the first prayer at 4 am until sunset each day for a month. The mosque was preparing for about 40,000 worshipers to break their fast together that evening. They had prayers rugs, air conditioners (it was a balmy 110 degrees), racks of Korans, and complimentary water neatly arranged and ready.</div>
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A few pictures that show some of the grandeur and inlaid stonework.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYRGb2SF5Untdm5UZ7UvSCCAX2xX9xXZloirQgS4Xkwbm6kXhpCBmuuMBHr0IVVcmcwgmOLxnOvwlEGECq7VkTJkp6Hz3dWE9Ez7v08H6g_RxXkbPTFXc1AsYh4zpXx5yLZnIHB4yO-Vo/s1600/IMG_4050.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYRGb2SF5Untdm5UZ7UvSCCAX2xX9xXZloirQgS4Xkwbm6kXhpCBmuuMBHr0IVVcmcwgmOLxnOvwlEGECq7VkTJkp6Hz3dWE9Ez7v08H6g_RxXkbPTFXc1AsYh4zpXx5yLZnIHB4yO-Vo/s1600/IMG_4050.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh7dTUEwdzWsdKnwQdaN2hpizW1vBjhwbvD8YtnVxR1OjT8vkNBZVQQ6Z1R9ZJUqw111OhzWRhwfh5vskmZXrg5M14iLsqD61OuskX1pnNlBppf60XKh-TtS_24ttwOBCmTc_4o3Zcvos/s1600/IMG_4080.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh7dTUEwdzWsdKnwQdaN2hpizW1vBjhwbvD8YtnVxR1OjT8vkNBZVQQ6Z1R9ZJUqw111OhzWRhwfh5vskmZXrg5M14iLsqD61OuskX1pnNlBppf60XKh-TtS_24ttwOBCmTc_4o3Zcvos/s1600/IMG_4080.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYmdX1Y-36MW3OhlqHOMn-N04oHNqaY-G4I-6gvAB8hS-kYRgqdPuTm-ilfQ8nhD31riblLsV5P0iNBSibo3KBWIttVr4j8f2NwRI-FdZrhc0vlPH_wA40V_boAmr49N0z3Sz3ssI8bPI/s1600/IMG_4091.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYmdX1Y-36MW3OhlqHOMn-N04oHNqaY-G4I-6gvAB8hS-kYRgqdPuTm-ilfQ8nhD31riblLsV5P0iNBSibo3KBWIttVr4j8f2NwRI-FdZrhc0vlPH_wA40V_boAmr49N0z3Sz3ssI8bPI/s1600/IMG_4091.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a></div>
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Ramadan was the perfect time to go despite having to be very cautious because it's against the law to eat or drink in public during daylight. As a courtesy for non-Muslims, screens were placed around eating establishments at sight-seeing areas. Hotels and air tickets were very inexpensive and the tourist sights were empty. We felt like the only people at Ferrari World. The ride operators let us stay on and ride as many times as we wanted. It wasn't easy to get Ty & Danielle away from the cars, but we eventually discovered even the man-made beach was deserted.</div>
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The United Emirates was a beautiful surprise. With camel riding, ATV dune racing, and many more adventures left undone, we clearly did not plan enough time to explore this part of the world! Good thing it is only a short plane ride away.</div>
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Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217862775219452499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5219706268832576268.post-82241223547504976652014-07-12T00:46:00.000-07:002014-07-12T00:46:03.051-07:00People of India<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Some of my favorite glimpses of people doing ordinary things. Despite an abundance of garbage that most feel is beneath them to pick up, some people ignore the stigma and keep the area around their own places very clean.<br />
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Women beautifully dressed for worshiping at this Jain temple.</div>
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Many people work hard at jobs that are not very rewarding.</div>
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I liked her confidence and how stunning she looks in this color blue.</div>
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This fun mother-daughter duo were being chased by a monkey and hid behind me.</div>
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My favorite picture - she was on the side of a busy street collecting her dried laundry from the tree.</div>
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We drove by too fast for a good picture but I loved this little girl helping her grandma with the grain.</div>
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School children happy to be done for the day.</div>
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Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217862775219452499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5219706268832576268.post-51954466913949302562014-07-10T08:27:00.001-07:002014-07-10T08:27:41.798-07:00Time to Move On<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My first month in Mumbai would have been miserable without Debby. Someday, I hope to be just like her!<br />
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Her friendship and Indian wisdom has been a tender mercy. She's lived in Mumbai for 4 years and knows all the ins and outs - including the best places to get meat, buy street shoes, and find lettuce. You know, the essentials :) She's taken us to her favorite restaurants and introduced us to all sorts of helpful people.<br />
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She taught us how to see a movie in India, convinced Ty of the perks of a maid doing your bargaining (and cleaning!), and set us up with an amazing driver who actually knows how to find our obscure church building in far away Vashi. Because of her we made sure to request hot water and air conditioning in our new apartment's kitchen (not standard or even normal). She showed me how to make brown sugar because you just can't buy it here. She gave me a precious jar of molasses and checks in with me everyday to make sure I'm not bored or sad or lonely or in need of help. She's been so sweet to Danielle, but that's easy to do!<br />
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She's given me a heads-up about cultural norms that made all the difference. We've been street shopping, vegetable shopping, gone to the "opera", visited the sites, gotten pedicures, seen movies, and just generally crammed in as much fun as humanly possible. She's been a ray of light in a challenging new culture and she's moving to Hong Kong next week. Expats come and go - that's what they do - but life here just won't be the same without Debby. Ty's going to have to really step up his game - there are vegetables to buy, operas to be seen, and toes to be painted! And then we'll go to Hong Kong and visit Debby :)</div>
Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15217862775219452499noreply@blogger.com1