Just thought we would take some snaps from around Kochi. So here are a few in no particular order. Remember to click on the pic of you want to see a bigger version.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Monday, November 12, 2007
RIDING THE BUS- KERALA STYLE
If you don't have a car or a motorcycle in India you still have several options for transportation. You can walk up and down, in and around, the pseudo-sidewalks watching out for holes, trash, people, dogs and other animals. If you don't know the place where you are trying to go, your best bet is to hale a three wheeled motorized riskshaw. Don't pay the driver more than 10 rupees unless you are going more than 1 or 2 kilometers- even if he argues. You might also hire a car with a driver. This is the most luxurious and comfortable way to travel. You arrive at your destination sweat free and clean. Grady and I seldom hire a car, as it is a bit too expensive for everyday use. This means that we get to ride the bus each morning.
Riding the bus in Kerala is a feat of acrobatics, yoga, gymnastics, and martial arts all rolled into one. One needs acrobatic skill to hold onto the metals bars that line the ceiling of the bus while ones' body swings like a hangman off the fulcrum of ones' wrist. Mad yogic skills are needed to project ones' mind beyond the discomfort of being crammed into a rapidly moving vehicle with what feels like thousands of other bodes. Martial arts are needed to sharply elbow any roving hands, and gymnastic skills will serve you in your attempt to get on and off the bus.
The word "bus" conjures certain images in ones' mind; the reclining chairs of the greyhound fleet or a city bus with plastic seats and organized stops. Here busses are metal shells that grind and groan to a start and stop- large metal beasts driven by male mahouts who cajole, coax, and beat the gears into submission. There are no windows and no door. Only open spaces where windows and doors ought to be. In the event of rain, canvas curtains are draw across the windows making the interior dank and dark. The floor of the bus is made of thin plywood with metal rivets.
There are three important people on the bus: the driver, the conductor and the ticket man. Don't confuse them. The driver sits in the front separated from the passengers by a metal cage. He is usually barefoot, though sometimes wears sandals. Usually he wears a dhoti (sarong) tied up above his knees. He also wears the army-green shirt of the transportation union. Do not speak to the driver. You want all his concentration focused on moving the bus, which he does with breakneck speed around corners, never stopping for pedestrians or smaller vehicles. If you are walking on the street and need to cross, never think that a bus will slow for you even if you are in one of the few crosswalks or if there is a red light. Buses rule the roads.
The next important man on the bus is the conductor. His job is to get people on and off the bus as quickly as possible, to ring a small bell that tells the driver when to stop and start, and to yell the names of the towns where the bus is traveling. He yells the names in a form of incomprehensible Malayalam. This sounds something like a barking seal. For instance, the name of the town Aluva (pronounced A-LU-Wa) becomes ALA ALA ALA ALA, or the name of the junction Palarivottom (Pa-la-DI-va-tom) becomes PALAVO. It is better to just read the sign at the front of the bus- but to do so you will need to read Malayalam script. I can, Grady can't. (I have been trying to teach him to at least recognize the first letter of the places that he wants to go- Kakanaad in the morning and Ernaukulum in the afternoon). To get people on and off the bus, the conductor yells at them "getta getta getta" or "balle balle balle" and hits the side of the bus with his hand rapidly- smack smack smack. If you are the last person to get on the bus, beware! As soon as your foot touches the metal step, the conductor will ring the bell and the bus will lurch into motion. Grab any piece of metal near to you and hold on tight. Make sure your knees are relaxed or you will pitch forward when the buss screeches to a halt in just a few moments. When one bus overtakes another, thus stealing the passengers from the slower bus, the conductors have huge arguments out the windows and then procede to drag race down the street.
Ladies board and sit at the front of the bus and men the back. Do not sit in the wrong section or you will be stared at, and then told to move. Even if the back of the bus is empty, do not sit there if you are a lady, instead cram into the front of the bus, never stepping over the invisible line that separates the ladies' section from the men's. After dark men sit wherever they please as there are very few women on the bus, and those few have a male chaperone. Always bring a male chaperone after dark. After dark, everyone on the bus (hopefully not the driver, but usually him too) is slightly drunk and very feisty.
The last important person on the bus is the ticket man. When you get on the bus be sure that you have your money out and ready or you will be forced to search through your wallet for coins and you may have to let go of your metal bar. This is bad because you will have to manage your balance as the bus heaves through the potholes and screams around smaller traffic- you will probably fall down. When the conductor approaches you give him your money and state, preferably in Malayalam, where you are going- he won't understand if your accent isn't correct. If you know where you are going, just give him the correct change. He will hand you a small piece of colored paper- don't loose this as he will charge you again if you do. It is 3 rupees for the first few kilometers and then another 1 rupee for additional kilometers.
Make sure you get off the bus quickly. The bus will usually start before you are entirely off. Ahh the bus!
My morning bus ride is usually about 45 minutes and very crowded. In the afternoon when I usually come home after dance class and the morning commute is over the same ride only takes about 20 minutes. In the afternoon, I always get a seat. In the morning, I rarely do.
After my lovely bus ride I get down on the bustling MG road and walk from there to my Mohiniyattam dance teachers' house that has a dance studio on the top floor. This teacher, Sandia, is very wealthy. Her house is four stories and has marble floors throughout and very nice furnishings. The studio on the top floor is Kerala style architecture. The floor is made out of a type of clay and the walls are slated, carved wood that allows the breeze to come through. The roof is corrugated tin and sounds lovely when it rains. In the dance studio is a beautiful statue of Shiva, the God of the Cosmic Dance, and a huge brass lamp. I usually change into a dance sari and then we start the lesson. I really like this teacher. She is very cheerful and helpful. We speak in both English and Malayalam during my lessons. The dance classes consist of me practicing various steps and movement while she chants the rhythmic patterns of the dances. In the morning I am sometimes joined by other students, but I also have private lessons. In the afternoons I generally meet with dancers and scholars, conduct interviews and make time for writing.
Today I met with a modern dancer here in Cochin who is making beautiful new works that go beyond "fusion" towards a deeply spiritual blend of classical and modern dance techniques. She is interested in the inner landscape of dance techniques and uses yoga philosophy to work through movement as a spiritual practice. She trained in the Netherlands. I will join her classes next weekend and hope to work on a new solo piece of choreography in collaboration with her.
So these are the things that fill my days, getting off and on the bus without getting run over, dancing, writing, and doing yoga. After a long search for a yoga teacher, (this is another wild story that I will write in the next installment), I have decided that I will start my own yoga classes for women here in our apartment building. I realized that studying yoga with a teacher really wasn't my goal, I just wanted the community that goes with yoga practice. So instead of trying to find classes, I will create that community here. I plan to start a yoga club for women here in our 14 story apartment building. We'll see how that goes.
I am now at home and it is about 6:30 pm. I am waiting for Grady to get home from his day at the office and his lovely bus ride home.
Riding the bus in Kerala is a feat of acrobatics, yoga, gymnastics, and martial arts all rolled into one. One needs acrobatic skill to hold onto the metals bars that line the ceiling of the bus while ones' body swings like a hangman off the fulcrum of ones' wrist. Mad yogic skills are needed to project ones' mind beyond the discomfort of being crammed into a rapidly moving vehicle with what feels like thousands of other bodes. Martial arts are needed to sharply elbow any roving hands, and gymnastic skills will serve you in your attempt to get on and off the bus.
The word "bus" conjures certain images in ones' mind; the reclining chairs of the greyhound fleet or a city bus with plastic seats and organized stops. Here busses are metal shells that grind and groan to a start and stop- large metal beasts driven by male mahouts who cajole, coax, and beat the gears into submission. There are no windows and no door. Only open spaces where windows and doors ought to be. In the event of rain, canvas curtains are draw across the windows making the interior dank and dark. The floor of the bus is made of thin plywood with metal rivets.
There are three important people on the bus: the driver, the conductor and the ticket man. Don't confuse them. The driver sits in the front separated from the passengers by a metal cage. He is usually barefoot, though sometimes wears sandals. Usually he wears a dhoti (sarong) tied up above his knees. He also wears the army-green shirt of the transportation union. Do not speak to the driver. You want all his concentration focused on moving the bus, which he does with breakneck speed around corners, never stopping for pedestrians or smaller vehicles. If you are walking on the street and need to cross, never think that a bus will slow for you even if you are in one of the few crosswalks or if there is a red light. Buses rule the roads.
The next important man on the bus is the conductor. His job is to get people on and off the bus as quickly as possible, to ring a small bell that tells the driver when to stop and start, and to yell the names of the towns where the bus is traveling. He yells the names in a form of incomprehensible Malayalam. This sounds something like a barking seal. For instance, the name of the town Aluva (pronounced A-LU-Wa) becomes ALA ALA ALA ALA, or the name of the junction Palarivottom (Pa-la-DI-va-tom) becomes PALAVO. It is better to just read the sign at the front of the bus- but to do so you will need to read Malayalam script. I can, Grady can't. (I have been trying to teach him to at least recognize the first letter of the places that he wants to go- Kakanaad in the morning and Ernaukulum in the afternoon). To get people on and off the bus, the conductor yells at them "getta getta getta" or "balle balle balle" and hits the side of the bus with his hand rapidly- smack smack smack. If you are the last person to get on the bus, beware! As soon as your foot touches the metal step, the conductor will ring the bell and the bus will lurch into motion. Grab any piece of metal near to you and hold on tight. Make sure your knees are relaxed or you will pitch forward when the buss screeches to a halt in just a few moments. When one bus overtakes another, thus stealing the passengers from the slower bus, the conductors have huge arguments out the windows and then procede to drag race down the street.
Ladies board and sit at the front of the bus and men the back. Do not sit in the wrong section or you will be stared at, and then told to move. Even if the back of the bus is empty, do not sit there if you are a lady, instead cram into the front of the bus, never stepping over the invisible line that separates the ladies' section from the men's. After dark men sit wherever they please as there are very few women on the bus, and those few have a male chaperone. Always bring a male chaperone after dark. After dark, everyone on the bus (hopefully not the driver, but usually him too) is slightly drunk and very feisty.
The last important person on the bus is the ticket man. When you get on the bus be sure that you have your money out and ready or you will be forced to search through your wallet for coins and you may have to let go of your metal bar. This is bad because you will have to manage your balance as the bus heaves through the potholes and screams around smaller traffic- you will probably fall down. When the conductor approaches you give him your money and state, preferably in Malayalam, where you are going- he won't understand if your accent isn't correct. If you know where you are going, just give him the correct change. He will hand you a small piece of colored paper- don't loose this as he will charge you again if you do. It is 3 rupees for the first few kilometers and then another 1 rupee for additional kilometers.
Make sure you get off the bus quickly. The bus will usually start before you are entirely off. Ahh the bus!
My morning bus ride is usually about 45 minutes and very crowded. In the afternoon when I usually come home after dance class and the morning commute is over the same ride only takes about 20 minutes. In the afternoon, I always get a seat. In the morning, I rarely do.
After my lovely bus ride I get down on the bustling MG road and walk from there to my Mohiniyattam dance teachers' house that has a dance studio on the top floor. This teacher, Sandia, is very wealthy. Her house is four stories and has marble floors throughout and very nice furnishings. The studio on the top floor is Kerala style architecture. The floor is made out of a type of clay and the walls are slated, carved wood that allows the breeze to come through. The roof is corrugated tin and sounds lovely when it rains. In the dance studio is a beautiful statue of Shiva, the God of the Cosmic Dance, and a huge brass lamp. I usually change into a dance sari and then we start the lesson. I really like this teacher. She is very cheerful and helpful. We speak in both English and Malayalam during my lessons. The dance classes consist of me practicing various steps and movement while she chants the rhythmic patterns of the dances. In the morning I am sometimes joined by other students, but I also have private lessons. In the afternoons I generally meet with dancers and scholars, conduct interviews and make time for writing.
Today I met with a modern dancer here in Cochin who is making beautiful new works that go beyond "fusion" towards a deeply spiritual blend of classical and modern dance techniques. She is interested in the inner landscape of dance techniques and uses yoga philosophy to work through movement as a spiritual practice. She trained in the Netherlands. I will join her classes next weekend and hope to work on a new solo piece of choreography in collaboration with her.
So these are the things that fill my days, getting off and on the bus without getting run over, dancing, writing, and doing yoga. After a long search for a yoga teacher, (this is another wild story that I will write in the next installment), I have decided that I will start my own yoga classes for women here in our apartment building. I realized that studying yoga with a teacher really wasn't my goal, I just wanted the community that goes with yoga practice. So instead of trying to find classes, I will create that community here. I plan to start a yoga club for women here in our 14 story apartment building. We'll see how that goes.
I am now at home and it is about 6:30 pm. I am waiting for Grady to get home from his day at the office and his lovely bus ride home.
Saturday, November 3, 2007
GRADY'S MORNING COMMUTE
So for about two weeks now I have been riding my bike (no, not the one above thankfully, though I did take the photo along the way to work) to the office I work at about 6km away. I try to avoid the congested main roads for about half the commute where it is feasible, so as to avoid breathing too much unrestricted diesel exhaust and road dust. Generally I move about as fast as traffic and I can easily weave around most traffic jams given the maneuverability of my bike and the fact I have one of the few bikes with gears around. It is no holds barred on the Indian roads as traffic lights, lines, and laws mean little if anything. I took some pictures along my morning commute to give you a sense of some of the scenery I pass daily. Hope you enjoy!
Down the Stairs and Off to Work
Our Almost Ivory Tower above the Cacophony of the City.
Our Always Friendly Building Security Guards
The Often Full, Sometimes Overflowing, Ever Stinky Drainage Canal
Beware the Potholes of Stains and Punctures
Buses, Best to Be Wary
A Diversity of Traffic
A Local Hindu Temple
1 of 3 Popular Kerala Religions
Wide Trucks, Narrow Roads = Jammed
Veggie Truck
St. George's Church
2 if 3 Favorite Kerala Religions
Local Timber Mill
Beware the Wanderin' Cows
My Local Lunch Favorite-
Mmm Rice and Sambhar
Long Hauler
Last but not Least a Local Mosque
3 of 3 Popular Kerala Religions
Ahh, Second Breakfast, Young Tender Coconut
12 Rupees
3 of 3 Popular Kerala Religions
Ahh, Second Breakfast, Young Tender Coconut
12 Rupees
The Building Where I Work
From Left to Right
Kurian, Resmi, and Sandhya
Fragomen India Staff
Anjou and Sumi
Fragomen India Staff
(Not to be missed, Saju James the Managing Director
was away on travel this week)
From Left to Right
Kurian, Resmi, and Sandhya
Fragomen India Staff
Anjou and Sumi
Fragomen India Staff
(Not to be missed, Saju James the Managing Director
was away on travel this week)
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