~ LapjesKat: Blind. Folds

Thursday, May 04, 2006

Blind. Folds

26 comments:

Emerald. said...: ~ so you've worked things out

- some more; 4:46 AM
Emerald. said...: - remember how he dealt with

things?

~ all the stages; 4:46 AM
Emerald. said...: - glitter ~ balls; 4:47 AM
Emerald. said...: - mixing things up

~ cookie ~ Monsters

- van eigen deeg and such; 4:48 AM
Emerald. said...: - and the shared habits

~ or inspirational company; 4:48 AM
Emerald. said...: - and all the things you thought

~ up by yourself

- all along; 4:50 AM
Emerald. said...: - see how he looks a bit like my

~ Dad looks on a Picture I keep; 5:32 AM
Emerald. said...: - except more Green than Blue; 5:32 AM
Emerald. said...: "Sorry it's been a long time since a real response. I hope you have been getting the mass travel stories. We're in Ghana now, but getting a little tired of travelling in Africa. First, I just don't like being a tourist, and so much has ended up just that. Living in Senegal, or the Netherlands, was living...meeting friends. It gets lonely being totally rootless. We stayed in Dakar for a month which was cool but difficult, since Sara didn't really have much to do there, and doesn't speak French well (or Wolof), and a month isn't long enough to learn two new languages at once. Second, it sucks being forever an outsider...and obviously so. Being called "whitie" (toubab, nsara, obroni) again and again is really alienating. Just a constant reminder. While people are really overly friendly, the majority of conversations quickly become really boring: "How can I go to America, I love America. Can I have your address." It's an opportunity to remind them that everywhere has problems, and the US is not so great, but this is when really just wish for more equality around the world. Relationships just can't be even, when I'm interested in just hanging out and being here now, but they would really like to have a committed long-term American friend. Finally, after travelling for this long, another beautiful thing is just another beautiful thing. A picture perfert palm lined beach...looks better as a picture...because you can avoid focussing on the people shitting on it. Anyway, enough bitching. It's been fun, and I'll be back soon enough, but I'm excited about leaving--up through Morocco to Europe. Most likely no Netherlands this time. We've got friends in Perpignan, Lyon, Geneva, and Basel to visit. We fly out of London, and to get their intend on getting cheap tickets out of somewhere in Eastern Europe. We really want to go to Budapest, so that's the current plan, together with Vienna (which I know nothing about, have no guide, and hear is expensive so maybe not). Our original grand plan was to travel through Italy, Slovenia, Croation, Serbia, then up. Are you still going to Serbia? Any suggestions on places to visit/stay in the area?

So finding your family...That's got to be strange. Do they feel like family? How are these relationships? Have you found the other NL brother yet?

Hope to hear from you again soon,
All the best, love Geoff "; 5:33 AM
Emerald. said...: ~ In need a Picture

- with the Story; 5:34 AM
Emerald. said...: ~ to feel the Energy; 5:34 AM
Emerald. said...: - or a Voice

~ Mail; 5:35 AM
Emerald. said...: - and with the Commitment comes

~ the Distance; 5:37 AM
Emerald. said...: - or another story or excuse; 5:41 AM
Emerald. said...: ~ so you went Back and Forth

- again; 5:46 AM
Emerald. said...: - and other Factors; 5:47 AM
Emerald. said...: - Psychology and such; 5:48 AM
Emerald. said...: -

~; 5:49 AM
Emerald. said...: ~ with the Pictures come the

- memories; 5:17 AM
Emerald. said...: - it was Three Pisces under one

Roof again; 5:17 AM
Emerald. said...: ~ he sounds grown up

or it´s my new point of view

* to name a few; 5:18 AM
Emerald. said...: "Hello Ina,

I'm glad one of those addresses got through.
So, so, now what have I told you. Let's see...so I'm still studying
sociology at
the University of Michigan, but having now finished all my course work, I'm
taking the year to work out a research topic for my dissertation...which will
have nothing to do with New Zealand---I'm just down here staying with my folks
who moved here a 3 years ago, living with the 'rents means no rent. So I'm
living lightly, doing lots of reading, staying dry. It's spring in NZ and
reminding me of the wet lowlands weather. They drink tea with bickie's
(biscuits/cookies) which also reminds me of NL.
----They use funny words here, like they ad "ie/y" to the end of words to make
it diminuitive like the dutch use -je (as in poesje). In the US we'd say kitty
or puppy, but to do that for anything else makes you sound like a baby. But
here they eat their brekkies (breakfast), listen to speakies (speech),
and give
and recieve pressies (little presents). They just say things weird which makes
me realize how in the Netherlands some of the english that sounded wrong to me
was probably correct to someone. Here they ask "how are you going?" and look
confused if I ask "how are you doing?"---This weekend I went snowboarding on
one of the volcanos in the middle of the north island. It's about 5 hours from
here, we stayed over night at the house where my dad's dutch/nz friend
grew up.
The mother's back in NL every southern winter, so she's happy with
guests making
use of the place. It was full of dutch saying embroidered on towels and on the
walls and posters. Together with the books and memorability it really gave me
nostalgia. Stepping outside to the steep hills and strange plants, were
instantly back to NZ. There's actually a fair number of dutch down here. I
guess I'm not surprised.---So it's southern spring and the snow was wet. The
mountain was beautiful and I haven't ridden a board in a couple years now. My
face actually got pretty sunburnt due to the altitude and suns reflection off
the snow. But no worries now...

So I mentioned I was travelling. I'm here until late December then flying to
India to meet up with my girlfriend Sara (who's there already) to
travel around
for a month. In early feb we're flying to Senegal via Paris and Casablanca.
We'll be in West Africa about 4 months. Then up through casablanca to
marseille, and probably across into south eastern europe. We're flying out of
londen in early july. The trip so far has taken us through Japan and
Australia.
However for the most part we're avoiding the rich countries and/or
staying with
friends. At this time I don't have plans to come to Nederland, maybe we can
swing up? Europe is expensive though, and we're trying to stretch this year
long trip on skinny budget.

I think Dutch is still pretty good at understanding, but I get stumbled up
trying to talk or write...or maybe just too self-conscious now because I know
I'm making mistakes...so this is the easy way...the way I wont procrastinate
and end up not doing. I need to just start reading dutch papers or something.
There's this new thing called the internet...

Well, much love. Send your news when you can. I've been wondering about your
wandering/wondering/living etc. It's been a couple years now already.

Geoff"; 2:14 AM
Emerald. said...: we were both slackers in a lot of

ways; 7:00 AM
Emerald. said...: ~ low maintainance; 7:00 AM
Emerald. said...: "Dear friends, sorry this is about a month late. We are now somewhere between Lome and Timbuktu. This letter is a summary of our time in Dakar. We arrived in Dakar the first weekend of February, late Saturday/early Sunday. The first 24hours were...underwhelming. We were swarmed at the airport by taxi drivers whose aggression would give India a run for her money, but luckily Geoff's Wolof kicked in fast, at least enough to make negotiations possible. Our hotel was neither cheap, nor clean, nor charming, nor were the women who "worked" there. After a few hours sleep, we strolled confused through the deserted Sunday streets. It was like a post-apocalyptic ghost town, lacking the life and color Geoff had remembered and we were both expecting. To top off the day, we learned in the afternoon that the matriarch of Geoff's host family had passed away, the house turned over to new tenants, and the family dispersed. Fortunately, by the time Sara's dad (Ron) arrived 40 hours later, we were back on the rebound and things were picking up. We had moved to a nicer hotel run by a cheerful Cape Verdian woman, our Mama Maria, who was happy to speak Portuguese with Sara. With Ron visiting, we stayed another two nights in Dakar, giving us time to visit the island of Goree's tranquil, historical, beautiful, and carless community. It was also a significant point in the transatlantic slave trade. Speaking a bit of Wolof got us discounts at the overpriced tourist restaurants and got lots of local smiles. On one after-dinner walk through the downtown streets of Dakar we came to a corner where a crowd was gathered. Before we could see what was happening, we could here the struggle and thought there was either a fight or a thief had been caught. We saw three men wrestling with the steer, one at the horns, two at the back. As they twisted its head by the horns bringing it to the ground, all 4 legs were bound tightly together while it struggled and cried. Then we noticed the 2 other animals, throats slit, blood pooled in the gutter. We watched as they roughly dragged this last one into the street, pulled back its head, and slit its throat. For several minutes after, in place of breath a fine mist of blood sprayed into the air. We were surprised at how distinctly we could smell the blood in the air.As unprepared as we were for this, we appreciated seeing the closer and more honest connection here between animals, food and people. The next morning we took a shared cab up to St. Louis, the former colonial capital of all of French West Africa and a city known for good jazz. We only broke down and changed cars twice so it was an easy first trip over land;) We stayed in a wonderful family-run hotel on the north side of the island (where the Senegal river reaches the sea). A short walk to the end brought us to where we could look north and see Mauritania in the distance. On our arrival, we learned it was Tam Xarit, the Islamic new year. This explained the slaughter in the steers the night before. Our hostess invited us to share in the traditional meal of Senegalese (millet) couscous. At night the calm streets filled with children and their bucket drums. Boys were dressed as girls, and girls as boys. We followed a pair of professional griots who brought their music house to house like trick-or-treaters in search of coins. We spent a day at the park de Djouj, an incredible spot for birds, as it is the first sizable body of water on the migration route south from Europe. We connected with a local Peace Corps volunteer who accompanied us on the boat through the maze of mangroves. The park is especially known for its population of pelicans. They are huge, especially up close, and even more impressive in such numbers. Like flocks of yellow-bellied, flat-bottomed cargo planes. After St. Louis, we travelled south to the fishing towns and small villages of the Sine Saloum Delta. We spent another day on the water visiting a small island community and seeing the processing and preserving of smoked fishes. Ron took a particular interest in watching the construction of large teak wood boats, which they build opposite of the Europeans. Here, they build the outside of the boat first, fitting the inside individually to each boat. We started a small parade of children during our tour, and left with a good-bye party of 30 or so, as we set off from the dock. The only real downer to the trip was in returning to Dakar and getting off the Kaar (minibus) at the crowded garage, Ron's camera and phone, and our sunglass disappeared from the bag. Ironically, we discovered later that we had been dropped off just around the corner from the "thieves market", and almost returned there to try and buy them back. Another few days with Mama Maria gave us time to find a room to rent for the month. This was a difficult time for us as we were hemorrhaging money. On the bright side, Peace Corps volunteers from all over the region flooded the city for the annual WAIST (West African Inter-something Softball Tournament). Staying down town let us meet some great people, including 2 from Madison! we spent one memorably surreal afternoon poolside at the "American Club"-- beach party USA: Wasted ex-pats and volunteers strolled around in bikinis and softball uniforms with Coronas, corndogs and spaghetti, while a band played American classics like "the ants go marching two by two.." in the corner. The Senegalese team and the 7th grade international school girls team took the tournament, to the dismay of everyone else. Our month in Dakar passed quickly. Geoff spent most of his time walking back and forth from the university. The students were on strike from the time we arrived until the day we left, which made meeting people both easier and more difficult. One day we arrived to find the streets closed and blocked by flaming barricades, boulders, and students stockpiling projectiles. We ate juicy fresh oranges as we walked through to visit our friends. While Geoff worked on his project, Sara spent her days (as any dutiful Senegalese housewife does;)) going to market, doing the laundry (in a bucket) and up on the rooftop learning to cook. Geoff still did the dishes. We happily found that we could buy a much greater range of vegetables in the Dakar markets than we had thought possible (not many are used in traditional cooking). We discovered a new favourite vegetable ---a white tuber like a cross between a radish, carrot and potato, that becomes gelatinous and translucent within a burlap skin when cooked. There is a lot of good music in Dakar. Its a really cosmopolitan African city where different people and genres come together. The biggest concert we went to was sponsored by Norway for a child registration drive and featured a large and prominent international line-up. It even opened to the tune of “Take on me” with Norway’s very own A-Ha! It was still getting cold at night but we were determined to wait it out for the headlining act. Alpha Blondy was excellent (you should all look him up if you don’t know him), but 3 hours more of waiting in the cold only rewarded us with the "disappointment of Lauren Hill". Even though they don’t celebrate birthdays in Senegal, we still had fun with ours. On Geoff’s birthday, his favourite Senegalese musician, Omar Pene, just happened to be in Dakar playing the last show of his world tour. The following week we returned on Sara’s birthday to hear a performance of the jazz section of the national orchestra, who were accompanied by a traditional folk dance and music group from the Casamance region. We further celebrated with chocolate, pickles and popcorn specially purchased from the ex-patriot store. Little things: Geoff fell off a bus, which was funnier than painful. A burning trash pile exploded. We found a box large dead rats. Rats here are as big as the cats but not as scary. Lots of sand and Bougainvillea (although far more sand). Miniature donkeys everywhere, pulling carts with big rubber car tires. Foosball tables on street corners. Baobab trees and cotton silk trees are awe-inspiring and beautiful. Boys playing soccer in the street with anything round and ball like that can be found. Sugar coated peanuts. We left Dakar the 24th of March on the overnight ferry down to the Casamance, the southern part of the country (on the other side of the Gambia). Its wetter and greener down there, with crickets chirping at night and strange, bearded pygmy goats all over the place. There are a lot more bicycles on the roads, and much more creativity in regards to breakfast. We will have to give you a detailed account of breakfast across West Africa in our next letter. Hope this finds you well, healthy and happy.Much love,Geoff and Sara"; 12:50 AM
Emerald. said...: "This email is to wrap up our time together in India. Be warned, it’s a bit of a long one. We’re in Senegal now, after a cold weekend stop-over in Paris. There would have been other ways to make a transition between worlds…like a long slow trip over land like the camel trade routes of old. But we came through the metropole, the blended collage of everything, and have readjusted to driving on the right side of the street and speaking in French not English. After all the scare stories about India, maybe it’s ironic that it was in Paris we witnessed a robbery and rented a room with a broken shower and very significant pothole in the floor. It’s a good thing our downstairs neighbours were nice. So India: Geoff arrived in Delhi dec28th. a day earlier than expected. We travelled through Rajastan, made the 40 hour train trip south to Kerela, then returned north to leave from Mumbai. In leaving India, we forgot Jan had 31 days, and arrived at the airport in Trivandrum a dayearly. But they were nice and put us on the plane to Mumbai for an extra bonus day. Geoff arrived (surprising both of us) a day earlier than expected. Unfortunately, he was captured by the Delhi-Belly Monster, and so after the first enthusiastic 38 hours of glitter and street food, the next few days were slow and less adventurous. We found a great dhaba (cheap restaurant) on a side street,but spent quite a lot a time at a Nepalese place around the corner from our hotel sipping tea and eating momos. It was nice walking together through the streets as Geoff was a good way to see everything fresh all over again. The markets are fantastic, especially at night when everything glitters (although not the best time to buy, since the magic wears off in morning). Cows, bicycles and rickshaws, plastic buckets, blocks of rough soap, buttons, lace hemming, sequins and snaps, wreaths of marigolds and chrysanthemums, disposable plates made from pressed leaves, potted plants, plastic flowers, temples, meter wide cauldrons of simmering milk. From poles overhead hang coils of wire and rope, and lines of plastic packets of soap, gum, chewing tobacco, face packs, shampoo, breath fresheners, salty snacks. Men making stainless steal and aluminum trunks hammer metal into shape. We turn on to a side street onto which furniture workshops overflow. Wires stretched, drooping, criss-crossing over every street. Vendors on every side: “Yes, Sir,” “Hello, Sir,” “Excuse me, Sir.” Down another narrow street, overhung with flowering trees---the vegetable market of Pahar Ganj: castles of cucumbers, kohlrabi, turnips, purple onions, round and elongate white and purple egg plants, small hard tomatoes, okra, potatoes, squash—both smooth and textured, cilantro, dill, ginger and tumeric root, white and red radishes, bright red carrots, huge pumpkins,green peppers, green and red chilis, mustard and other leafy greens, cauliflower, peas, other beans in pods, beets, yams, banana flowers…Big canvas sacks stood on end piled high with (black, yellow, brown, green, red, and grey) lentils; hand cut pasta pressed into wheels, flowers and pretzels; chickpeas, soya, and jagri. Smaller bags of dried seeds, flowers, and ground spices of all colors. Blocks of white paneer in glass cases. Large jars nuts and dried fruit. Wedding cake towers of carrots, beets, oranges, pineapple, and mint for making fresh juice. We love it how shops overspecialize: we sell rope! I am your potato and onion guy! I only stock enormous sacks of dried red chilis. We strolled through busy bazaars and quiet neighborhoods during the day but also at night. We went out to visit the Bahai lotus temple which is beautiful and incredibly peaceful. Of all the places we visited in Delhi this was the most striking. Natural light fills the space from between the large lotus petals of the temple shell. > From Delhi we took a night train west to Jaisalmer near the border of > Pakistan. Dry forests and fields turned to sandy scrubby desert, wire > fences turned into pink stone slabs. We passed camels and goats, and > peacocks on village rooftops. Jaisalmer is in centered around a > magnificent fort. The whole city is a giant sand castle with > intricately carved lattice sandstone and marble balconies and windows. We spent 2 days riding camels to the sound track of deserts winds, farts, gurgles and burps. Camels have great feet. When we stopped for lunch our guides caught wandering goats, milking them directly into the chai pot as we ate under thornberry trees; which the camels painfully introduced us to as we began again. We watched the sun set over sand dunes and spent a very crisp, coldly beautiful night under the stars. We drank pineapple lassis topped with saffron and wondered through the old, small and winding blue streets of Jodhpur. We watched a dog catcher cart away street dogs, ate deep fried mustard greens, drank lots of fresh juice, explored the beautiful old fort and palace and walked past innumerable shops selling both new and old “antiques”. We had been warned that the mountains were exceptionally cold and the lakes were frozen, but since the desert had been quite chilly we decided to brave the odds and go up to Mt. Abu. It was a welcome surprise to find palm trees and short-sleeved people eating ice cream. This is a popular holiday retreat for middle-class Indians, especially those from Gujarat (who are renowned for liking good food so the restaurants are awesome). There is a beautiful 1200 year old Jain temple complex carved entirely of marble, which together with the havelis in Jaisalmer definitely put the Taj Mahal to shame. The town is nestled in the green misty valleys on top of a mountain. A small lake sits between the peaks, but it was the amazing rock formations that really made the place special. We arrived at the house of our SERVAS host in Udaipur late in the afternoon. He runs an NGO working with nearby villages to help people form self-help groups, self-governed commons, and whatever else the communities decide they want. Udaipur is an elegantly relaxed city nestled in some valleys with a large lake in the middle. Bustling bazaars full of spices, tea and produce spread out from the city center, and the occasional painted elephant lumbers slowly through the lanes. We rented bicycles for a day and learned to navigate through the traffic, exploring streets from his neighborhood (which is oddly infested with pigs) to the city center and around the lake. After 4 days we moved to a hostel downtown where we had to walk through low ceiling-ed passages and narrow steep curving stairwells to get up to our room. We watched beautiful sunsets from rooftops and terraces with sitars and tablas playing in the background. Udaipur definitely had its strange moments. All shops and street vendors that sold glasses also seemed to carry used dentures. We bought some gifts from a backwards bargaining shopkeeper who would significantly underbid himself every time we agreed to a price –but only when his boss was not around. We couldn’t quite figure out his motives. Many of the hotels downtown showed Octopussy on their rooftops (the James Bond movie filmed partly in Udaipur). It was definitely strange to see every orientalist fantasy while actually being here to know the difference. Why does every bad guy wear a turban or speak with an east European accent? Are belly dancers even from India? OK. 48 hours on a train later…We arrived in Kerala.Our first morning we caught a bus to Fort Kochi. All of the busses were bright red, palm trees everywhere, open sides with no glass, letting in the breeze, heat, heat, sun, fruit everywhere. People wearing lightweight cottons and walking with umbrellas to shield them from the sun. A relaxed walk through this tranquil island neighbourhood took us past wholesale shops dealing in cardamom, potatoes and onions, chillies, rice, pulses, spices, rope, more potatoes and onions, and several contemporary art galleries with some very good to very blah local artists. We arrived at “Jewtown”, originally a jewish settlement that largely dealt with the spice trade. Today, much of the old buildings and an old synagogue remain with Hebrew lettering and stars of david built into the walls and gates. It is pretty interesting to see the stars of david right next to swastikas (they cover everything here as a good luck symbol). From the water we watched the enormous Chinese fishing nets being raised and lowered to scoop fish from the dockside. Then from Kochi to Kumilly by bus. Along the way, a snack of whole, battered and fried bananas stuffed with jam. The food –both snacks and staples- in Kerala is different than anywhere else that we have been. Sara’s love of fresh chapattis has forever been replaced by parotas. And who knew you could do so many things with bananas? Right outside of a national wildlife sanctuary, we rode bicycles from Kumilly along a small curvy road through the pre-sunrise forest mist arriving at sunrise to go on an early trek. Waiting to cross the river on a small bamboo raft to cross into the park, we overheard a conversation about the great lakes between 5 Madison retirees (where else?). Everyone was fixated on the local charismatic megafauna (ohhh Tigers) which of course no one ever actually sees. We were happy to watch tadpoles boiling the water, monkeys in the tree tops, deer from across the water as they drank, some really good ants and spiders, lots of birds, and 2 leeches on Sara’s ankle (one pre-, one post-attached). We toured spice and tea plantations (with some coffee, cacao, rubber and pineapples mixed in) and learned about the processing of each which was all pretty interesting. Did you know where pepper comes from? Or cinnamon or vanilla or cloves? After Kumily we stayed in a development community funded and run by the catholic diosese. They were doing really good and interesting work (focussed on helping farmers transform their produce into retailable market products). The Catholic and Syrian churches both have really old histories here. One of the apostles is reputed to have arrived in Kerela in 64 AD. While Islam and Hinduism are still clearly present, the Christian influence makes it self visible in monuments, posters, and place names (like infant-jesus car park). The other new visual presence was the abundance of red flags and posters with hammers, sickles, gears, grain, and other symbols of the workers parties. While we had known Kerela had elected and been governed for many years by communist parties, we were still surprised by the number of flags, cooperatives, and credit unions on the one hand, and lack of beggars (and cleaner streets) on the other. We then spent the next few days on the Keralan backwaters. This region is an amazing landscape of busy canals cutting through flooded rice paddies, with houses and palm trees on the thin dividing walls. We took a ferry boat filled with school children which brought us to Allepy. Passing bamboo and coconut fibre houseboat rice barges that looked like big floating fish, we hoped to find another couple to share the cost of a hiring one out. Just as we had given up, we were propositioned by a couple trying to put a group together. So we happily spent the next 24 hours lazily trolling the waters with 6 other interesting travellers from Switzerland, Austria, France, Basque Country (Spain), and an Indian from Seattle who was more American than we are. Finally, no tropical adventure can be complete without the requisite terror of all tropical adventures: The Huge and Hairy Spider. In the bathroom… Sara in a vulnerable and compromising position….and then the electricity goes out! With Sara trapped there, it probably creeping towards her sinisterly while Geoff frantically rummages in the dark for the flashlight! No tropical adventure can be complete without the requisite Huge and Hairy Spider story. Sara found it...in the bathroom… while in a vulnerable and compromising position…and then... the electricity goes out! With Sara trapped there, it probably creeping towards her sinisterly while Geoff frantically rummages in the dark for the flashlight! We decided to spend our last few days with another Servas host and found outselves, after a day of travel, in a really beautiful education and development community. It took us a while to actually figure out what the place was. We were greated warmly, given a room, shown the mess hall, and promised a tour the next morning...but left guessing as to what the place was until then. The next day we finally met our elderly host who (who knew!) studied at Antioch 50-some years ago, and was a personal friend of E.L. Morgan (chair of the Tennesse Vally Authority). We were invited to an outdoor dance performance for probably 300 indian students and a dozen Europeans. The audience was strictly segregated by gender, which we hadn't realized when we sat down together. (On the busses in Kerela we noticed that women and men don't sit next to each other). Some of the dances were very traditional, but others seemed straight from Indian music videos. (We also found the dosey-doe remix and "It's the time to disco" numbers particularly...interesting.) For our last day (or so we thought) in India, we sought out an interesting departing meal in trivandrum: It began with 5 tiny cups of juice, then a parade of fresh salades, and finally warm food set onto our open banana leafs. There was a strict order for eating.We arrived at the airport to learn there were 31 days in January, and we were therefore a day early. But they were very nice and put us on the plane to Mumbai for unexpected bonus day there. The taxi from the airport broke down in clouds of smoke a few hundred meters short of our destination. We walked through the crowds and stalls wide-eyed after having been away from big cities for so long. Mumbai was great and very different than Delhi, and a great way to end the trip. We love you. Sorry for the mass. Write us and we'll do our best to respond with more personal notes. (You can reach Sara at lagartitia@umich.edu). Love Geoff and Sara Post Script: Geoff on Transportation: What looks like chaos has order...it just takes a while to get used to. My first encounter was the taxi ride in from the Delhi airport. My taxi walla was speeding, honking, driving on both sides ofthe road, in between lanes, pushing into and through crowds with wreckless assurance. We passed busses, trucks, bicycles, motorcycles, people walking, and autorickshaws. Men on motorcycles ride double carrying suitcases or tanks of propane. Women passengers ride facing sideways. My first ride in a rickshaw was a whole new trip. These are little 3-wheeled vehicles--with yellow bonnets, decorative mudflaps, decals, and "please honk" and "keep distance" painted on their bumpers---are the best way to get through the narrow streets that my taxi driver wouldn't enter. From the angle of a rickshaw, the roads are just as busy, but the life of the street so much closer. I realized why lanes and lane lines only make sense as guides---everyone one is different sizes and different speeds. Honking is part of driving---but it's no so aggressive and full of entitlement. People don't get pissed if your in their way unless you could make room but haven't. The road is negotiated, not programmed place of right-of-ways.My first city bus ride like a trip through toon town. I felt like we were in the back of that taxi in Roger Rabbit swerving and bouncing impossible toon-like around corners and obstacles. We'd speed forward and brake to a halt at each next stop. We'd slow to get the front wheels over a speed bump, but then accelerate, so when the back wheels hit, we'd bounce like popcorn. I some how expected the water traffic to be just as hectic, but the waterways we're all remarkably calm. We took ferries and other boats around Kerela, between islands and through the backwaters. Men and women floating in baskets like lanterns, dragging in nets from the sea. Old ferry boats don't go very fast."; 1:57 AM

~ LapjesKat

Thursday, May 04, 2006

Blind. Folds

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