Chennai, Day Two

Saturday, August 14, 2010

So this morning I woke up twice. I woke up the first time at about 4:45. I noticed that it was still dark, so I tried to go back to sleep. Soon after (about 5) Monkey woke up. He was sleeping in my room because he had had a fever, and my room was the coolest. He went to get his DSi so he could play Pokemon Diamond. I didn’t mind, and I just went back to sleep. I woke up at about 9. At this point I just wanted to begin my day.

First, I took a bath Indian style. This consists of filling a large bucket with hot water, and using a small pitcher to pour water over your body in the shower. You wet your hair and skin, soap yourself up, then rinse. It uses a lot less water than a regular bath or shower, and really it’s enough water to get completely clean. I actually liked it. When you take a shower in India, you need to make sure not to get the water in your mouth, or it might make you sick. When you brush your teeth, you need to use bottled water, and if you want to be really safe, you’ll use hand sanitizer after washing your hands, just to make sure the water didn’t leave any germs on your skin.

After my shower, I dressed in some of the new clothes that Anni bought for me. I went out to the altar, and Anni reminded me that before you go to the altar, you need to put on a bindi. A bindi represents the third eye, and it is placed on a woman’s forehead, between her eyebrows. It can take the place of the powder dot that Aunty placed on my forehead yesterday. I put on my bindi and went to the altar to say a prayer of thanks to the gods for bringing me safely to India and for bringing Raja and his family into my life. Later I asked Aunty and Anni to teach me some proper prayers and rituals. Although I am a devout student of Hinduism, I don’t know much about the proper ways to do things. Usually I just talk to god, and I’m sure god doesn’t mind, but sometimes it’s nice to approach god a bit more respectfully, in a formal way.

After prayer, I ate some breakfast, which included a dish made out of veggies and finely ground grain (like cream of wheat) and some bacon from Anni’s hotel. It was a nice surprise, because I didn’t think I’d eat pork in India.

The day is a little mixed up because my brain is still a bit scrambled, but Raja and I decided at some point to go for a walk. Walking in Chennai is as much of an adventure as driving, especially since vehicles have all the right of way and there are absolutely no sidewalks. There are some crosswalks, but nobody really pays attention to them.

First we walked down the road, watching out for potholes, mud, and cow poo. We neared a stand where there were piles of fresh coconuts. Raja asked me if I would like to try some “tender coconut.” I said YES! So we stopped, and Raja ordered one coconut. The woman chopped the end of the coconut off with a small, wicked looking machete. She poked a hole into the middle and put a straw into it. Raja told me to suck all the juice out so we could get to the coconut. The juice, which is sometimes called “coconut water” when you buy it in a fancy organic food store for five dollars a quart, is very delicious. It is sweet and filled with excellent vitamins. It is considered the most nutritious and most hydrating drink you can ingest. Anni told me later that if they could give it to people in an IV (they can’t) it would be even better for your body than saline (salt water) to prevent dehydration.

After I drank all the coconut water, the lady took the coconut and violently hacked it with the machete. It was a little alarming, honestly. She then took part of the coconut shell and scraped part of the meat of the coconut until it turned into a juicy slush, which I then ate. It was amazing. All this right by the side of the road.

Raja and I went to this shop where they sell soap, shampoo, lotion, powder, cologne, and other cosmetics. Last time he went to India, Raja bought me some body spray and I realized that I like using it. I bought tons. I think I bought eight cans of deodorant body spray and three cans of scented talcum powder. It cost me 1,219 rupees, or $26.18 U.S. In the states, I could have only bought two or three of those items at that price. As the man behind the counter rang me up, I noticed the thumbnail of his left hand was painted. I wondered if he just got bored one day and started testing product. We left the stuff at the store to pick up on our way back from the other shops.

Aunty told me that when Raja was little they would go to the store, and Raja would wander off by himself with the basket. When he returned, the basket would be filled with scented soaps and powders, and some chocolate. Hence, at seven years old, my Raja’s obsession with smelling good began. This is an obsession which is good to have, in my opinion.

After Orchid Boutique (the aforementioned shop) we went next door to buy a mocha frappe. It was good, but I couldn’t believe it: they put it in a plastic bag! There is such a huge problem with garbage in India, and they put everything in a plastic bag.

We walked down the road to a spice and nuts shop where Raja bought a lot of chikki, which I think he’s addicted to, and I bought some roasted, salted chickpeas, which I haven’t tried yet. I’ll let you know how they are when I do.

Have you ever wondered what it must be like to walk into traffic? Well, now I know. It was a bit daunting, but I wasn’t killed. I saw three cows on my walk , too. Two brown cows and a white one. I resisted the urge to pet them.

On the other side of the road, we stopped at a clothes shop, but there wasn’t really anything interesting there, so we walked back down the street and crossed again. As we were crossing, Raja told me that his father had been involved in a terrible accident while crossing the street a few years ago. He was hit by a motorcyclist, and sustained several fractures. Later Anni told me the extended version of the story, and I’ll just say that we are lucky that Uncle is still with us.

As we walked along, an old woman asked us for money, and Raja gave her a few coins. Usually it’s suggested that people do not give money to beggars in India, but Raja said she was an old woman, who had probably been abandoned by her family, and what was the harm. I am always overwhelmed by his kindness and generosity.

After we got home I rested a little, blogged a little, conversed a little, ate a little, and ventured out into the crazy streets of Chennai with Anni to do my first real round of shopping. Despite the fact that I likely have enough Indian clothes now to last me the rest of my known life, we went to Nalli, the premiere clothing shop in Chennai. They are so famous that they have several stores in Chennai alone, as well as in several cities overseas that have larger Indian populations.

We took a car and driver, which made it a bit easier. There is no parking in Chennai. Nalli has a parking lot, but it was full, so he just dropped us off and we went inside. This place was amazing. Imagine the fabric selection at Jo-Ann's or some other fabric store, then multiply it by about a thousand. There are bolts of fabric floor to ceiling, and on tables and displays. Four floors. Some ready-made clothes, but mostly fabrics you can choose for yourself and then get made into clothes of your choice. There are plain fabrics, patterns galore, embroidered and sequined fabric, whatever you might need for any type of clothing. It took about two hours to just skim through it all.

Eventually we found what we were looking for. Three fabrics to make churidar pants, as the pants Anni bought me were too small to go over my awesomely muscular and shapely calves, even after being let out by a tailor. I also bought a ready-made salwar suit. The suits are sold with no sleeves attached, so that they can be fitted. I’ve decided not to add the sleeves, and keep it sleeveless, although that is considered a little risqué in India. I’ll wear it at home. I also bought some amazing orange fabric for a churidar suit , as most of my Indian clothes are in subdued colors.

After we bought our stuff (I paid 478 rupees for the orange churidar suit/ dupatta fabric, and 895 rupees for the ready made outfit [top, pants, dupatta] That’s a total of about 30 U.S. dollars) we went outside to wait for our driver. I was standing there when these three girls in beautiful saris walked by me. One of them said to me something like, “Hello there, beautiful lady.” I looked a little closer, and noticed something about these ladies. Anni then confirmed by saying, “Hey, you were just hit on by three hajira” Hajira are men who dress and live as women. Some of them are eunuchs. In India they are considered very auspicious (lucky), and people often invite them to weddings or to bless newborn babies. Therefore, I consider myself lucky to have been flirted with by them!

I have noticed that I do get a lot of attention here, from men and kids, especially. There are not a lot of white people here, especially ones as pale as me. I guess I am something new and interesting. I don’t notice it very often, but I think it’s probably because I’m too busy looking at everything else.

We went to look for some kids clothes, but they didn’t have what Anni wanted. We called Raja, and he told us to come home so that we could go to the beach with the kids. We stopped briefly at a tailor’s located by Anni’s hotel. We ordered several items to be made: the three sets of churidar pants, the orange churidar suit, the churidar suit Aunty gave me for my birthday, and a practice choli for my new sari that Anni gave me. The whole thing is going to cost us about 1000 rupees ($21.50) or maybe a little more or less. I can’t remember because Anni took the receipt. I put down 300 rupees as a deposit (I almost gave him 1200 rupees. Thank god I handed the money to Anni first!) and was told the clothes will be done on Monday.

We got into the car, picked up Anni’s hubby at the hotel, and headed back to the flat.

On the way, Anni showed me some sights, such as where she and Raja were born and grew up. We also passed the Governor’s mansion which was lavishly decorated with colorful green, orange, and white lights in honor of Indian Independence Day, which is tomorrow. There were huge renditions of gods in lights: Ganesha, Lakshmi, and Durga were some of them.

We got home just in time, as the second car we had called was just about to arrive. We joined everyone else and piled into the cars to go to the beach. Because there were eight of us: Aunty, Uncle, Anni, her hubby, the kids, Raja, and myself, we went in separate cars. On the way, we hit a traffic jam. Unlike traffic jams on I-5, where every one just limps along in straight lines, Indian traffic jams are a huge snarl. Since we were still moving, I doubt it was the worst one ever, but it was still pretty slow. The huge amounts of traffic didn’t stop the vehicles (especially the motorcycles) from attempting extremely dangerous maneuvers.

We got to the beach very late. It was already dark, but the beach was glowing with lights from lit up vendors' carts. The driver stopped and I jumped out, but then he miraculously saw a parking spot and with the help of an attendant on the ground, awkwardly maneuvered into it. We left Aunty and Uncle to sit and people watch, and walked out onto the sand. There were games where you could shoot at balloons, and places to buy cheap toys that light up and break before you leave the beach, and tons of food carts that are too dangerous for first-time tourists like me to eat from. They do look and smell good, though.

Raja bought me some light-up devil horns (very popular with the young crowd on the beach) and we walked around, making sure to stick close together, as the beach was extremely dark and there were lots of people. Anni told me that this is the beach where young people used to come to make out. ☺. We saw a young girl doing a tightrope act. She walked across a rope strung about 10-15 feet off the ground. She also was balancing on a bicycle wheel. I tried to take a picture, but it was too dark.

As we walked, we came across an amazing sand sculpture. At first we thought it looked like an Egyptian Pharaoh, but then we saw that there was a rupee symbol at the base, the Indian medallion from the flag on the belly, and the face was a woman’s. Then someone realized that the whole sculpture was in the shape of India. The sculpture was of Mother India, another Independence Day nod.

We were feeling hungry, so we walked back up the beach and got into the cars to head to an authentic Tamilian restaurant. There was quite a crowd waiting, so we put our names on the list and sat down outside to wait. It was very hot, and I was feeling very sweaty and gritty. Our car didn’t have a/c, so we all had the windows open, and while the breeze felt nice, it also felt as if a fine layer of dust was perpetually blowing in your face, irritating your eyes. It still felt better than being in a closed, hot car, though.

Across the street from the restaurant is a church called St. Mary’s. Aunty told me she used to go there regularly. Uncle said everyone, even Hindus, would pray there often. One of the things I love about Hindus is that they believe that every god is really god. There are not false gods and real gods, but that god just wears an infinite amount of disguises, in order to make himself available to everyone.

While we were waiting, two Indian men walked by, one of whom was wearing a t-shirt that said "God created Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve." At the same time, he was walking with his arm draped around the other guy's neck. It was a strange image. Men here show a lot of affection to one another, often hugging, walking arm in arm, or with their arms around each other. Here it does not mean that they are gay. On the other hand, it is considered very inappropriate for a man and woman to hug or even hold hands in public. Raja was very daring when he held my hand crossing the street. Still, he was trying to save me from getting killed, so I was grateful.

After 10 minutes (ha ha, not really) we were called in and we sat down. There wasn’t a table available that was large enough to seat all of us, so we sat at different tables. The boys had been up since 5 a.m. with no naps, and they were exhausted. They complained that they weren’t hungry and just wanted to go home, but the grown-ups were starving!

At the restaurant, the food was served in the traditional way, on banana leaves. The leaves look like big green placemats. They gave us a cup of water, but Raja told us not to drink it. However, he told us to use it to wash off our leaf, so we did. He asked for bottled water for drinking. The waiter came around and gave us these small dishes with golden-brown fried balls of dough in them. They then ladled different kinds of chutney (like a dipping sauce) straight onto our banana leaves. They dumped a small scoop of brown powder onto the leaf and then a small scoop of oil over that. I followed Raja’s lead and started mixing it up with my finger. “What is this?” I asked. “Chilli powder,” he responded. Oh, great. Tamilians traditionally eat with their fingers and there were no napkins, so how was I supposed to get this big blob of chili paste off of my finger? I wiped as much as I could off onto the mat and then licked my finger. It wasn’t too bad, actually. I must be developing a tolerance for spices.

As I said, Tamilians eat with their fingers, and that’s a lot of fun! The boys were cranky and they didn’t want to eat the ghee dhosas we ordered for them (like thin pancakes fried in clarified butter…very delicious.) so we ate quickly. The food was amazing, and the chutneys were very good. I couldn’t identify them all, but I think one was made of coconut, and one had coriander (cilantro) in it.

After eating, we piled into the car and drove home. I sat in the back with two boys asleep on me: one on my lap, and one on my shoulder. I was wearing the devil horns, but Raja told me they were scaring the driver, so I took them off. The last person you want freaked out is your driver. Once we got home, we put the boys to bed, and I took a quick bath to get all the grime of the long day off. Once in my sleeping clothes I settled down to write as Raja watched cricket on the TV. Cricket is a very popular and important sport in India, but I’ll explain all that another time.

I couldn’t get online tonight, so I’ll post this tomorrow. I’m going to try to wake up early tomorrow anyway, to watch them hoist the Indian Flag for Independence Day.
Until then, be good!