photos galore

These pictures are in reverse order with the last of the Goa pictures at the bottom and the Dharamsala pictures at the top. Molly mentioned in her blog that if you want to see enlarge the pictures you can zoom into the page (ctrl +). You can also go to this link and view the album http://picasaweb.google.com/ninotchkasequeira/Kaleidoscope#

I took this picture from a roof top cafe facing these two guest homes.
Between the cafe I am at and the homes across from me is a pathway that descends from one of the main roads on the mountain to the bottom of the valley.
Our home is at the bottom of over 200 stairs, a short veer to the left which avoids a mini crevice in the mountain, then downwards some more along a path with tons of mini loose rocks and tiny patches of grass which play host to meandering cows and goats. By the time you reach our room, you probably have walked the equivalent of an additional 100 steps or so. Should be interesting in the winter with the snow and frost.
Today, after moving into our new home (it has a bedroom, kitchen and bathroom), I walked up the stairs, alll the way up, got to my favourite road side bakery where I was about to order the first of my daily muffins until I realized that I left my wallet at home, all the way, down, the stairs. I felt even sillier when I realized that this was the day after I read Jon's blog which specifically mentioned that the stairs should help cure him of leaving his wallet at home...

Here's a glimpse of the town rising up along the mountain. There are a few towns near-by, most get smaller and smaller the further you go. Finding a home took us a while because we wanted a room with a kitchen attached. Most of the guest homes here cater to short term stays so while there are rooms with kitchens available they are a little harder to find, especially for the cheap prices we wanted. Also, some of the bathrooms were down the hall from your room, which is fine, except that the hall is often the balcony that runs around the building (as you see in the picture above) which means that you have to go outside between your shower and your room. Not to appealing. Part of what made our search so time consuming was the fact that we had to navigate the maze of stairs and pathways that go up and down, up and down along the mountain. Also, being India, clarity is a luxury that is often lacking thus making much of the process hit or miss depending on who you asked for information.

This is the view from a roof top cafe/restaurant
you can just barely see the two snow peaked mountains in the back

Waiting for the train from Goa back to Mumbai with my Uncle. We all awoke at 4:00 in the morning to make sure we didn't miss this train scheduled to depart at 7am. It was a couple hours late in the end.

We got a little bored waiting. Natasha made a crown of leaves and Jon posed for the camera.

This is a water snake we found on the beach. He was about 3 feet long. In its mouth is its dinner, a fish. There was a crowd of people surrounding it trying to save it but not understanding what it needed and thus mis-handling it. From what I understand, it needed to be out of the water to digest its catch but was unsafe out of water as it had landed on a tourist stretch of beach. So people wanted to put it back in the water but in order to do so had to pull the fish out so that it wouldn't drown. What it really needed was to be left alone, but because people are ridiculous, it was unsafe for it to be exposed to humans on the beach. A couple people pulled the fish out of its mouth quite vigorously which tore the snake's mouth quite badly as the fish had some crazy spikes that pulled at the snakes mouth. Jon had gone to get a knife to do the same but hopefully more safely. The people didn't understand or wait. Both Jon and I got a little worked up about the mob mentality which was working from ignorance and pure force. In an attempt to get the snake back into the sea a guy used a stick to lift and fling it. His aim was far from good and the he ended up flinging the snake barely into the water, and then further up onto the beach. I managed to get him to stop after yelling at him and then stripped down and walked the snake into the sea until I was about waist deep. When I let him go into the water he started to sink lifelessly which freaked me out and made my heart sink, but then he peaked up and swam away.

This is the view from our balcony in Goa. The beach is just past the greenery.

I believe this is the paddle resting on the boat

Goa: the land of beaches

Our trip to Goa was lovely despite the fact that both of us took turns being sick for most of it. For those of you who have travelled in India, I'm sure you will empathize with us as you understand that being sick here is part and parcel of the game. We had a lovely time with my mom's side of the family. As a child I had heard stories of my uncle's political nature and boyish antics, but I wasn’t able to understand the context of those stories until Jon and I discussed and shared ideas of anarchist philosophy with my uncle. Let's just say that the stories I had heard about my uncle starting a bon fire in his youth specifically to burn all his official papers and documents (i.e. birth certificate etc), was given more meaning within the context.

We stayed in Arombol for the most part, which is a tourist beach town in Northern Goa. Phoebe, Winnie, Sophie and I stayed there briefly three years ago. This one is a personal note for them: Remember the fresh water lake across from the ocean that trailed into the wilderness of the jungle? We saw it just after the monsoon season ended and it has been reduced to about two thirds its size, with many more cafes and lounge bars around it. It made me sad to see it like that.

We stayed in a guest house facing a field and then the beach, which was a two minute walk away. We were in Goa just as the tourist season was beginning and picking up speed so we were able to enjoy the remainder of nature's peace and quiet before all hell broke loose and commodities dominated the scene as they are marketed everywhere from the roadside to the beach itself which becomes covered and claimed by various enterprises. The water was deliciously warm, the sky magnificently clear, and the heat, ohhh the lovely heat. I'm writing this from Dharamsala in the Northern portion of India, where sadly, the heat is a distant dream as I sit in my woollen socks with the view of the snow capped Himalayas in front of me.


So since this internet connection is ceasing to be dodgy the rest of the pictures will have to wait for later. I'll rearrange these and add more when the internet decides to co-operate
In the meantime I hope some of you are satiated with the what is here

Jon reading on the beach by the path leading to our rooms,
a temple in the background with some cows meandering along the beach

Some kids picking through the catch of the day

The lady waits while the fish are being removed from the net
she will be the one who sells them in the market

Fish entangled in the net
-still flip flopping, slowly dying in the heat

the whole process laid along the beach
-more nets being pulled out as the old ones are laid out to dry behind the men
(and tourists like myself standing and watching, trying not to get in the way)

The men pull the nets out by re-positioning these bamboo rods along the line,
they lean against the rods and walk backwards pulling the nets out

A restaurant shack on the beach -this calf walked in to sniff around
-the owner started barking orders to the boy working the tables, telling him to get rid of the cow
the boy barked back about how he was indulging us as we took pictures
While this restaurant was further up from the beach, many are right on the beach,
sea creatures such as crabs sometimes scuttle past your feet under the table along with the zillions of stray dogs

“I wanna dance with somebody.... I wanna feel the heat with somebodaaaayyyy” –Whitney Houston. Mumbai’s nightclubs:

We went dancing.
That’s right, I actually convinced Jon to come out dancing with me.
When I lived in Mumbai for 5 months, 3 years ago, I befriended a crew of people who loved dancing as much as I did and I became pretty well acquainted with the scene. It got to the point where we would frequent the bars and clubs 2, 3 times a week, and where, even though I was in a city of 18 million, I began to recognize people at the various clubs and even around random parts of the city.

I love the clubs in Mumbai. From what I can understand the scene tends to change according to the current political background in the city. Often times, clubs are shut down because they encourage too many scantily clad women to emerge, or noise curfews are imposed with vigour. Events like the 'terrorist' bombings in Mumbai last November (or December -I can't remember) put a significant damper on the night life and large gatherings. Our first night out dancing happened incidentally as we went out for dinner with an old friend (Denver) to a place called "Ferangi Paani" (literally translated as 'Foreign water') which was a restaurant much like TGIF or Ruby Tuesdays or Boston Pizza -the kind of place with an All-American decor plastered on the walls and within the menu. This place however quite out did those joints and was ironically much more successfully American than them. It is also more upscale. I ordered a pina colada and as soon as I finished it a waiter came by un-prompted with another one. We all looked at each other and the waiter with confused expressions until the waiter told me that it was a buy one get one free deal during happy hour -needless to say, the night got a little hazy after that. The place had a small stage and though it was a Monday night and thus relatively empty we still hit up the dance floor. We were surprised and admittedly nostalgically delighted when we realized that the music theme for the night was contemporary rock-pop-ish (though Somewhat old school according to standards back home) as they played songs ranging from Footloose to Linkin Park and, get this, even some Papa Roach. Reminded me of some good ol' junior high days.

Our next night out required some prior research. In an attempt to find a good club and event to go to, Jonathan and I spent a couple hours on the net and on the phone to numerous places. We eventually found a place called Blue Frog which was having a pyschidelic-trance night with a couple DJ's from out of town that we decided to check out.

The moment we put our coats on to leave for the club the sky opened up and it rained heavily for the majority of the night. (There were two weeks of heavy rain in Mumbai and other parts of India which occurred after the monsoon season and which caused massive flooding subsequently displacing about two million people and killing a couple hundred -I'm not positive about those numbers). Jon and I made it to the club relatively dry via auto-rickshaw, train then taxi, until we got about 100 meters from the door and were quickly drenched between the downpour and the massive puddles. (The drains here can't handle the amount of rain that ensues, especially when the tides are high are the drains are already flooded. So massive puddles or small ponds accumulate rapidly).

We entered the club with soaking shoes amidst Mumbai's young clubbers into a space seeped in the lure of modern art with tables and booths shaped in enclosed circular forms that gradually descended onto the dance floor. There were about 10 screens displaying various random pictures from traditional Indian dancers and images of people meditating to western cowboys and Charlie's Angle's silhouettes, that all pulsed to the beat. Entry was Rs500 each = $12.50 Cdn. (Some places refuse entry to stag’s –single men). And drinks were unfortunately amazingly expensive: about $16.50 Cdn for a double Screwdriver.

The dance floor was packed with enough Converse shoes to fill Gus's Pub back home, and enough high-heeled hoochie mamas to fill about an 8th of the Dome. The club was pretty amazing, definitely not like anything that would grace the Halifax night life, though probably something that could be found in Montreal. It was refreshing.

Our Last Weeks in Mumbai.... and a glimpse into the call centre phenomenon

Alright, alright.
So it's been forever since I've written and here it all is finally.
For those of you who dislike periods of silence and then long detailed entries, I intend to write more frequently from now on, but have also decided to break up the following entries into sizable chunks for you.
With Pictures.
I might not get to labeling the pictures today, so check in again and I will explain them in due time.

First, our extended last weeks in Mumbai:

We ended up staying in Mumbai longer than expected for a couple reasons. First, we stayed a week or so longer as we needed to re-do our tattoos at the original Tattoo parlor that initially did them as they were going to do the touch-ups for free. (I'm referring to the small identical wedding bands on our fingers that Jon and I had intended to do in Canada). But as Jon's took longer and longer to heal we decided that we would leave for the South West state of Goa (where my mom's family lives and which is also known as the vacation state for both international and domestic travelers as it has some beautiful beaches) and return to Mumbai to get our tattoos done and then onwards to Dharamsala. Tickets proved difficult to get to Dharamsala so we were delayed further in Mumbai.

Borivili -a northern suburb in Mumbai where I was born

The two vehicles on the far left and right are auto-rickshaws
for those that haven't seen them before

The infamous Banyon Trees
-their roots creep downwards from their tall branches
until they plant themselves into the ground.
-Jon's picture.

me getting restless as Jon takes picture after picture of the tree...
I'm holding onto the roots
p.s. This is in downtown Mumbai

While we were both going a little crazy with boredom we managed to take in some family time, a couple nights out and a play at the National Centre for Performing Arts. The play was called "1-888- Just-Dial-India". It was a clever comedy that exposed the power relations between Western and Indian culture where Indians strive to be more and more like the west, and where the west depends more and more on India for various outsourcing. The play was about an Indian business man who decides that the next wave of business genius is to outsource America's suicide hotline to India. The play touched about key points such as North America's self-absorption, ignorance and righteousness and India's willingness to abandon its culture and be more like the west, and relationships for consumption and glitz. The play also displayed underlying issues of how global politics in the form of a saviour called "globalization", are spearheading cultural disintegration and Western imperialism through the dissemination of western culture in various insidious forms. Suffice to say, the play was clever, hilarious and both Jon and I enjoyed both the political nature of the script and the talent of the 6 performers.

India’s IT Industry –a glimpse into the politics of race, identity and consumption:

To give you a sense of the politics behind the so called Information Technology (I.T.) industry in India and the call-centre phenomenon, here is an excerpt from an interview of Arundhati Roy (the author of The God of Small Things) in her book The Shape of the Beast, from her chapter on "Development Nationalism" (pg 89-90):

The journalist asks:

"India Today, a weekly magazine, has a fairly large circulation. It recently had a cover story entitled 'India Is Now the Electronic Housekeeper of the World'. General Electric, American Express, Citibank, AT&T and other US corporations are shifting what they call their back-office operations to India. It's called the fastest-growing industry in India, and the workers are mostly young women. Many are hired to answer customer service questions for US customers. They might be on the other end of the line when I want someone to look up the balance on my credit card account or when Avis telemarkets a cheap vacation package to San Diego. They take on American names and American persona's and tell jokes in American English. The people who are in favour of corporate globalization say this is a great thing. These girls would not ordinarily get jobs, and now they have an opportunity to earn some money. Is there anything wrong with that argument?"

Arundhati Roy replies:

"The call-centre industry is based on lies and racism. The people who call in are misled into believing that they are talking to some white American sitting in America. The people who work in those call centres are told that they're not good enough for the market, that US customers will complain if they find out that their service is being provided by and Indian. So Indians must take on false identities, pretend to be Americans, learn a 'correct' accent. It leads to a psychosis. One way of looking at this is to say, 'These people at least have jobs.' You could say that about prostitution or child labour or anything- 'At least they're being paid for it.' Their premise is that either these workers don't have jobs or they have jobs which they have to humiliate themselves. But is that the only choice?"

Of course there is much more to this issue, but I think the excerpt above points to some key issues surrounding the advancement of corporate globalization and how it is affecting racial, cultural, relationships. This is a prime example of how social structures such as our jobs act as factors that contribute to the re-orientation of identity. Like Roy says, the fact that call centre employees are required to pretend to be American in order to provide customer service to America and other western countries, says to Indians that they aren’t good enough, that they aren’t desired. This industry significantly perpetuates racial hierarchies. Not only are Indians told what not to be, but they are told what they should be: Western. But the scary thing is that this relationship does not end in the economic sector. While it may literally pay to be more western in relation to the job market, the entire world is constantly told via mass media outlets such as movies, advertisements, the news, global politics, etc that your entire life will improve if you embrace and pursue a western lifestyle.

Do you know what one of the highest selling commodities is in India? Skin whitening creams. Not only are they sold anywhere and everywhere, but they are made accessible even to the poor by the availability of smaller, cheaper, pocket-sized sachets. If you need any proof of mass media that encourages the pursuit of Western culture check out Bollywood. Bollywood is the name given to the massive Hindi film industry which, (according to the Lonely Planet 2005 edition, pg 69) is the largest film industry in the World. The World. If you look at the actors and actresses in the industry you will quickly see that all of them are very, very fair skinned –almost even white. I have yet to see a fairly brown skinned actress let alone a dark skinned one. And I’m not exaggerating, I bet if you asked any local Indians who frequently watch Bollywood films how many dark skinned actors they’ve seen, I’d be surprised if they even said one. So is it a surprise that skin whitening creams are such a hot product when the largest film industry in the world religiously employs fair skinned actors?

Be sure to market to all consumer groups...

And that’s just Bollywood. What about all the other social practices that perpetuate this racial hierarchy? And what about the numerous other things that are changed and lost in the pursuit of self-identification and happiness through Western lifestyles?

“The recent IT boom and outsourcing of overseas industries to India has given birth to a new breed of Indian yuppie... According to a recent survey, these young professionals (many in their twenties and unmarried) are ditching traditional spending patterns (eg for household goods and retirement) and spending a sizable chunk of their incomes on more hedonistic pursuits such as dining out at fancy restaurants” (Lonely Planet, 2005, Pg. 60).

(Gasp. Is it really true? Is the generation of rabid consumerism a by-product of this phenomenon?)
What about how this changes social relations between parents and children, family structure? Will this generation of ‘yuppies’ be as willing to take care of their aging parents as their parents once were of their grandparents (in a society where social care services such as those for the elderly are almost non-existent and those that are, are inaccessible to most of the population because they can’t afford it)?

ok, ok, that's the end of my rant.

The Infamous Monsoons

The monsoon season in Mumbai generally runs from July until mid September. It starts earlier in the south of India, travels upwards, and ends later in the North. When I was in India last year I caught the beginning of it in Kerela (South India) during my travels with Phoebe, Sophie and Winnie. However, we moved up North and then left from Mumbai before the rains really hit. I was hoping to get a glimpse of the rains here this time round but after the first full week had thought I had missed them.

I caught one down pour which lasted about 20 mins. The skies darken, the air is charged with an incredible energy, the city buzzes with anticipation. Then suddenly the sky opens and rain pours from the heavens painting everything a darker shade of wet. Some things come to a stand still. Vegetables are left out on carts without their vendors, motorcyclists drive off the rode and park, people gather and stand under anything from trees to pasty shop doorways, huddling to keep warm. The charge in the air and the knowledge that when it rains it pours and when the monsoons start you're helpless against the elements -generally sends a shiver of excitement through the city. If you're going to get wet -then you might as well have fun. The air temperature drops suddenly and mercifully, the layers of dust settle and almost instantly areas that used to be roads are submerged into lakes and rivers.

I've heard of the chaos that the monsoons can bring. Flooding in homes, on roads and railway tracks. If the trains stop in Mumbai, Millions of people are stranded as that many people rely on the railway system for their daily commute. Much of the city can be brought to its knees -a stand still. The millions who's homes are the sidewalks, streets, alleyways of the city are flooded out. Sickness and disease rise from everyday colds to malaria as stagnant water breeds mosquito's.

So much of India depends on the monsoons. With literally no rain at any other time of the year the monsoons make or break the harvest, the water reservoirs. Apparently the rains this year haven't been as much as they usually are. Reservoirs are low and water shortages are expected in full swing in around April and May next year. Agriculture will suffer -crops will dry out sooner and grow less. More people will go hungry when the time comes and the water supply wanes.

This year the monsoons have lasted a little longer those sparse as they may be. The thunder and lightening that accompanies the rains marks the end of the season as the charged air is not present in the beginning. The last three days it has rained pretty heavily every night at around 6pm. The first few days it only lasted for about 20 mins-an hour, while the day before last it lasted for about 4 hours. Jonathan and I were lucky to catch the transition just before it rained from my uncle and aunt's house in Bandra over looking the promenade by the ocean -Bandstand- from a 6 story building atop a hill. Here are the pictures. It all happened very quickly over the span of about 15mins. Jonathan has some before and after pictures he's post on his blog.











If you want to see any of the pictures on this blog up close you can view them at http://picasaweb.google.com/ninotchkasequeira/Kaleidoscope

snippets

Today is Eid -the largest Muslim celebration.

On my way to the bakery yesterday morning for some fresh bread for breakfast I saw a monkey hanging out on some one's eave's drop. My estimate is that if it stood on his hind legs he would probably come up to my torso.

Last night we went to a dinner party for my godfather John's birthday. Kimberly, 7 years old brought a basket into the living room with something inside that turned out to be a 3 week old pug named spiky. So cute.

The night before last we had another dinner party at John's house for his birthday. An evening full of food, drinks and laughter. Most of my parents close friends were there. I was the first child born in their circle of friends so I'm pretty well pampered by them. We shared some of our wedding pictures with them as they would have been part of the wedding if distance wasn't a factor.

Before the party kicked off we headed out briefly to a neighbouring society where a few friends lived, where the traditional Gujarati festival is currently taking place the span of nine days. They dance and dance and dance. It was so beautiful. They were clad in traditional Gujarati garb, colourful and full of tiny mirrors. The women and men danced in these heavy clothes in the society compound with a DJ accompanying them. Traditionally they would have a live band and go for 9 days and play into the night. However, Mumbai has a noise curfew at 10pm which is relatively (and selectively) enforced which drives the parties indoors or forces them to end early. Also, being in the city, this festival is often cut down to one or two nights as the society (the group of apartment buildings as I explained before) only permits them the space on those nights out of respect for the comfort of the other residents.

Our friend Jean who lives there asked one of the ladies named Merlin, who was part of the dancing to include us. Merlin stuck by us and patiently showed us the steps which were fairly introductory as they asked the DJ to play the slower songs so we could keep up. The music eventually speeds up and more complex steps are added as well as hand work with sticks which I've only seen in movies. It's all so beautiful -the way they move, the rhythm, the outfits, the music. Definitely the highlight of my time here thus far even if it was only 20minutes. We had to get back to John;s birthday party otherwise we would have stayed longer. And yes, Jonathan participated and danced beautifully -for those who might be wondering.

We spent yesterday visiting families from the building I grew up in before I left India when I was four. Some close family friends who we have kept in touch with. We had amazing Manglorian food which both Jonathan I are really enjoyed as it's very similar to what my mom cooks because my dad is from Manglore and my mom is from a neighbouring state.

We went to a tea party for an old school teacher of mine ( school starts here at the age of three so I had completed a year of school here before I moved to Nova Scotia). It was a very sweet party. It's tradition here to treat your guests instead of the other way around which is what we are used to. So after a huge lovely simple lunch we were fed more at the tea party. We danced a little, looked at pictures from when I was a baby, and played trivia/riddle games with the ladies from the society [i.e. What's the difference between a bull and a car? The bull has two horns and the car has only one. What country does a cook utilize in the kitchen? Greece.] It was hilarious and amusing to watch everyone so good natured and full of joy and celebration. It was great to see the range of personality come out of the women in a space where they dominated as there were only 3/4 men (including Jonathan) present.

We drove around Malad today with John, his son Bruce and their cousin's from Australia as we checked out some of the fishing villages and beaches near by. I'll post some pictures. I finally got to eat some sweet roasted corn -freshly roasted in a stall on the beach over a bed of hot coals and dusted with salt and lime juice.

Sorry my entry is so chronologically dyslexic -it's siesta time and I'm sleepy.

Below are some pictures -I recently added some explanations.


This is a fishing village near Malad. About a 10/15 min drive away from where we are staying.
As you can see these traditional boats float in front of the modern day Mumbai backdrop.

Mumbai's initial inhabitants were fisherpeople. Over the years of subsequent conquerors Mumbai's 7 islands were filled in and connected and it's native inhabitants increasingly pushed out by the influx of immigrants from all over India and beyond.

I didn't get any pictures because I didn't want to disturb the people, but you could clearly see the imprint of the west and capitalism within the village. Small shops have sprung up where old trading posts would have been. These small shops attached to people's homes are painted from top to bottom with Coke Cola slogans and images and the shops enable people to enact western lifestyles as the shops carry modern day unhealthy snacks like "American Style sour cream and onion Lays Chips".
As you get closer to the main part of the city you see more and more shops run by people who have immigrated to Mumbai from all over India in an attempt to make a life for themselves. The shops vary in their goods but all in all supply all the conveniences one could ask for. Most of the goods unfit for the once traditional fishing towns.
In many ways being the big city that it is, Mumbai is the land of promise. As traditional infrastructure, lifestyle and livelihoods like agriculture are increasingly left to rot all over the country and are invaded by capitalist venture and profit more and more people escape to Mumbai where industry and the promises of the West are closer at hand. But once here people themselves are left to rot on the sidewalks and those that can attempt to squeeze themselves in between the cracks and pockets of business in an attempt to live out their dreams and realize the promise the city claimed it held for them.

Jonathan snuck closer to grab some shots of the boats. A Mandir -Hindu temple- perches on the rocks behind him. You can be int he drabbest, poorest part of the city and always, a religious beacon -whether it be a church, temple or mosque rises above it all in splendid colour and grace.


Some of the older boats sunken into the shallow waters act as docks for the newer boats.

The old boats remind me of skeletons with their ribs protruding out of the waters.

Some street dogs resting in the heat

A church within the village. Notice the drawing of the boat and its sail under Mother Mary holding her infant, with the words Ave Maria on either side of the picture.

This is part of a fishing plant. Crates of fish that match the paintings on the wall.

Fish being walked back and forth between the plant and the ocean with an alter over looking the ocean.


Fish -possibly eel- drying in the sun.

A plethora of fish drying on the sand -and Jonathan's shadow impeding the process

I don't know if you can read the inscription -but its a prayer commemorating the reconstruction of a church built in the 1500's.

Goats by the ocean.

Jonathan hanging out with the goats

The remnants of the old church and a tour bus in front.
The name of the bus printed on the side: "Michael Jackson".

Crumbling away

Apparently there were some visiting priests (possibly carried in via the bus?) so a small celebration ensued where villagers lined up ahead for the feast.




Jonathan and Cheryl with 20day old Spikey.
widdle Spike