from J&J

The Kolkata Police Care for Us

2007-07-03T22:00:00.000-07:00

We wanted to share some of these pithy pearls of wisdom, courtesy of the Kolkata Police. They pop up all over the city and not only enlighten, but also occasionally entertain:-) What more can you ask for?

We've also uploaded more fotos to our flickr site and (sort of) organized them.

And for those of you doing the countdown, Jess'll be stateside in three weeks and Josh swoops in a week later. Wohoo! Can't wait to start catching up face to face with all of you:-)

Con Amor y Paz,
J&J

Who Loves the Hills? WE DO!

2007-06-21T00:03:00.000-07:00

After doing Darjeeling with Jina, we couldn't stay away for long and a mere three weeks later we were back up in the hills where we luxuriated in the cool cloudiness, went for long walks in the rain, and had an unexpectedly perfect viewing of the third highest mountain in the world, Mt. Kanchenjunga.

The quiet comfort also helped us make the decision to return to the West Coast U.S.A. a bit sooner, something we've been contemplating as the heat in Kolkata built, concert season petered out, and our cravings for home became stronger after almost nine months in India. Our time here has been exciting and challenging, but everything has an end... So for you west coasties, Jess'll be swooping in to PDX 24 July, and Josh will touch down in San Fran on 1 August. We'll be bopping back and forth between Portland and SF over the next couple of months as we start building our nest in the Bay Area and catching up with our crew and clan.

And as for these fotos, some of them are from our May adventures and some are from last week's wanderings. Peruse and enjoy...

Paz y Amor,
J&J
The local shrine of a little village tucked into the tea estates a few thousand feet below Darjeeling.
Some of the homes of the tea estate workers.
Kanchenjunga in all her glory...

One of the tantalizing peeks the mountain gave us back in May.

These young girls guided me and Jina through the tea plantations around Kalimpong and brought us to the little temple where the deaf priest warmly welcomed us after the young girl yelled at him and explained who we were.

The Japanese Peace Pagoda in Darjeeling where you can listen to the monks drum all day and watch the sun set.

A Tibetan woman spinning wool at the Tibetan Refugee Self-Help Center.
Some of the little Tibetan beauties.

Darjeeling has banned plastic bags throughout the whole town. It makes a HUGE difference. High tea in all its British glory...

A Nepali family we met at a temple in Darjeeling. A joint photo session took place, inspired by our admiration for the young boy's T-shirt.

One of the Krishna shrines at the major temple in Darjeeling.

Once upon a time, in a far away land...

2007-06-09T19:38:00.000-07:00

we readied ourselves for a trip halfway around the world. We bought train tickets, packed the smallest chess set in the world, grabbed Hemingway (he likes long journeys) and set off. From Kolkata to Jaipur to Delhi (where we spent the night in the airport...and which we emphatically do NOT recommend to anyone) to London to Newark to Westport to New York City back to Westport to Newark to London to Delhi to Kolkata. Fourteen days of utter madness and wicked fun. Here's some snippets of those 14 days, which were two months ago! Ahhh...where does the time go? If you want to see the wonderful brouhaha of Passover, check out Mr. Aaron "I live in Hawaii now" Feinberg's link on our sidebar. He captured some great moments while Josh and I blissed out on good wine, good friends and jet lag.

Josh loves train food soooooo much. Check out the fans that operate precariously close to his head. They're in cages but they still hurt when you wack your skull against one while trying to clamber down from your top bunk to get to the bathroom.
Some of our train neighbors.
The aforementioned chess set...very packable but a bit difficult to maneuver the pieces while rattling along train tracks.
Hemingway!! We love him!!
Claire and her totally decadent cupcake at a classy little cafe in the Big Apple.
In NYC, Josh and I spent a lot of time asking ourselves "Where are all the people? Where are all the cars? And why is everything so tall?"
Alison communing with some intellectually stimulating contemporary art.
We got a classic New England spring (with a classic New England nor'easter at the end of our stay) which was just what we needed...
Not quite sure what Jina's doing here, but I'm sure she has a really good reason for contemplating her fork so intently.
Hey look! We can kiss each other in public!!
The boys kicking back before one of our many hikes in CT. The fresh air and quiet woods felt so luxurious.
And back in India. Our first morning was in the Tibetan enclave in Delhi. We watched the sun rise over temples and a river and men and women out in the fields.

Paz y Amor,
J&J

Jina in India: She came, she conquered, she audio-recorded...she left:-(

2007-06-01T21:21:00.000-07:00

Well, I've finally pulled myself out of the pit of despair I fell into after Jina abandoned us, in the heat of a Kolkata summer, and we had to somehow come to terms with the black hole left by her absence. Sigh.

Histrionics aside, we had an amazing time with our favorite intrepid reporter (watch out Brenda Starr, here comes Jina Moore!) who was instantly beloved by the ladies at the cha stand, Mala who performed for Jina's audio recorder, the regal Dolly of Dolly's tea, and young children in the hills of Darjeeling. Here's some of the highlights:

This tik-tiki (lizard) appreciates the heat and tropical sunshine, lounging about at the edge of Elliot Park in the ceter of Kolkata.
Jina and I mostly maintained decorum and decency, though we were quite prim and proper compared to the young couples making out fiercely behind umbrellas.

Luscious lotus blossoms in the middle of the gardens.
I did some vicarious shopping through Jina who dove into the decadence of Indian fabrics.
This is a make-out umbrella. They are EVERYWHERE in the gardens.
Cavorting about the Victorian Memorial with Jina's friend Nilanjana from grad school. Victoria would NOT have approved I'm sure. Note the storm clouds building in the background.
Jina smelling curry blend after curry blend in the maze of New Market.
Approaching Darjeeling and the coolness of the hills.
Not quite sure why this sign says that we should drive through the storefront to find the end of the rainbow...
Our first evening at about 7,000 feet with some amazing clouds rolling down from the Himalayas.
We did an excellent job of browsing in Darjeeling--from bookstores to tea estates to restaurants.
Jina with her handy-dandy audio recorder, trying to capture some frogs.
There are big mountains, I mean really big mountains, behind them, I swear.
Jina's last night. Almost 40 hours later she was back in NYC. She is hardcore. Which is why we love her:-)

Paz y Amor,
J&J

Rain, Dab and Post Office Skirmishes

2007-05-22T02:25:00.000-07:00

Rain is becoming a part of daily living--a welcome relief, even if only in the moment of cooler breezes and freshly smelling growth, since it's often followed by the same thick heat that came before the rain, which in itself promises more rain and more relieved moments.

Walking back from the post office as the late morning leaps into a fierce downpour, my heart is still thumping from the somehow necessary low-level skirmishes with post-office bureaucrats to get various letters started on their journeys. I don't have any fotos of the office, but I can try to describe it: there are 8 windows with cryptic signs that display various abbreviations and acronyms. These windows are rather capriciously occupied and it's entirely within the realm of reality that you will walk up to a window just at the moment when the person decides to have a cha (Bangla for chai) break or just go sit in the back room and watch you watch them watch you...and onward and so forth.

What makes the post office particularly exciting is that every step of the posting process takes places at different windows. First you convince the Auntie at the "weighing" window to weigh your letter even though she really really really would rather you go somewhere else. The Auntie scribbles the cost of postage on your envelope and sends you on your way. Then you go to the "stamps" window which may or may not at that moment have the stamps you need which means you must negotiate with another Auntie to go into the back room and get said necessary stamps. And THEN, you approach the "final stretch" window where another Auntie wields the all-important seal that announces the entrance of your letter into the wide world, and you watch as the iron fist holding the stamp hovers for what feels like hours over your wee little epistle, and as it finally comes down with a satisfying thwack you breathe for what feels like the first time in days.

(At least I can brandish a semblance of Bengali now, which though far from perfect, still gives me the advantage of shocking and surprising and occasionally stunning into silence my bureaucratic adversaries.)

So back to the rain... though it's coming down with increasing intensity, I'm determined to have fresh green coconut water (dab) to reward my thumping heart with something nourishing. So I stand under an awning in the silent company of a few men who let me be. The dabwalla hacks the top off the coconut with his long curved knife, puts two straws in (just in case I suppose). I sip the sweetly salted liquid, watch the rain change from torrent to almost gone to torrent again. Old men walk patiently down the street, their dhotis or dress shirts soaked through. A few young men run by, thin handkerchiefs tied around their heads. One men wears a plastic shower cap. But my heart takes on the rhythm of the old men, returns to a patient measured pace.

Paz y Amor,
J&J

Nothing Like An Ant Invasion to Get You All Wigged Out

2007-05-10T20:17:00.000-07:00

DISCLOSURE: If the posting about half-eaten chocolate made you feel sort of creepy-crawly, you may not want to read any further. However, you enjoyed in some sick way being freaked out, double click on the fotos and get a serious close up of the action.

Way back in March, Josh went to Maharastra to wander through centuries-old Buddhist caves and bond with other Fulbrighters. I stayed at home to wander through Kafka and bond with Hemingway--a combination that left me feeling totally existentially distressed and craving large amounts of whiskey. But that is neither here nor there. Although my chosen company was a bit intense, I was appreciating the solitude and quiet space....UNTIL...

ANTS INVADED OUR HOME! I am not even kidding. This was not a matter of a few ants scrambling for food scraps in the kitchen or meandering aimlessly through the living room. I woke up one morning, went to the kitchen to make myself a cup of delicate Darjeeling tea and literally THOUSANDS of ants were moving their entire nest from somewhere outside the kitchen window to the hole behind the kitchen faucet. The busy little workers were trudging along with eggs on their backs and provisions for their new home. I was paralyzed with disgust. And where was my husband when I desperately wanted someone else to deal with this madness? AWAY!!

I proceeded to wave my hands uselessly and emit a sort of low-frequency shriek. And then I left the kitchen and pretended it had never happened. A couple of hours later, I snuck back up the the kitchen door and peeked in. They were gone. Phew. I took some deep breathes and made that postponed cup of tea.

BUT THE MADNESS WASN'T OVER!! Later that afternoon, I pulled my head out of Kafka and headed back to the kitchen where....the ants were on the move again!!!! They were quickly and methodically relocating to a crack in the corner of the bathroom, streaming by the thousands along the kitchen wall. At this point, I totally lost it. Maybe it was the Kafka. Maybe it was the Hemingway. Maybe it was the inch-wide trail of insects rampaging through my home. I decided to take action.

I calmly (sort of) filled up bucket after bucket of water and poured it over the ants on the wall and the floor and swept them down the drain as those who'd so far escaped the water continued busily on their way. I poured and swept and poured and swept. BUT THEY KEPT COMING.

So I left the house. And contemplated never going back. But upon further consideration, decided that I would NOT be evicted by ants. Back at home, the ants stayed (mostly) in their hole. I kept the buckets and broom at the ready. And my husband came home, which helped. There's strength in numbers. We all seem to have struck up a rather symbiotic relationship now. Josh put the trash can outside and they can dig through that as much as they like. But if they come into the kitchen, there is a flood of Biblical proportions awaiting them...

Paz y Amor
J&J

A storms' a comin!

2007-05-06T03:57:00.000-07:00

So, its mid-summer in Kolkata. And all this heat and humidity has to go somewhere, and it goes up and out. And then down. Standing on our rooftop, I took some pictures of a building storm. Only some are in order (blogspot is unnaturally complicated in that regard) , but all of these were taken within about one hour. Some huge clouds to the north-west, about 3/4 through the building stage.
This was the south-west at the very beginning.
And the south-west after about 15 minutes.
And the after another 10 minutes.
And after another 15 minutes!! Crazy!
The northwest at the beginning.

The whole time I was on the roof taking these pictures, there was the distant rumble of thunder, and a heaviness in the air hinting at the rain to come. Hopefully we'll get some of natures air conditioning to cool things off here on the sub-continent. And besides, when it rains all the plants around our apartment grow a little, and some bloom. Maybe a little rain isn't such a bad thing after all.

Josh

Catching Up and Whatnot

2007-04-29T04:29:00.000-07:00

We are back safe and sound from our wild and wonderful east coast journeys. The east to west jet lag hit us about the same time the west to east jet lag knocked us over, so we're just emerging from a pretty serious travel coma. The heat was pretty intense when we first arrived back in Kolkata, but an amazing thunderstorm yesterday brought much-appreciated cool breezes.

We'll be busting up those promised updates for you over the next few days, as well as some pics from CT and NYC. And don't forget to keep your eyes on our flickr site (there's a link on our side bar) where we're putting ALL our fotos.

Much Peace and Love,
J&J

We taught these young guys how to play Bullshit which kept us entertained for several hours.
Our little family: Pierce, Jessica. Sitar, A and Feinberf, Joshua.
Countryside in Gujarat.
Folks waiting for our train to past. This was long ago, between Ahmedebad and Jaipur.
A chai vendor on his way to the train.
Sunset in Rajasthan, somewhere south of Jaipur.
The Osho gardens in Pune.
Back when I had hair and Josh could buy me flowers to put in it.
A bicycle mechanic's setup. I was very impressed with his ingenuity and how quickly he changed a flat.
Homeless men sleeping next to a mosque.
Life by the side of the river in Ahmedebad.
A beautiful mosque in Ahmedebad.
A young boy getting ready for a major kite festival in Ahmedebad.
Another young boy on the eve of the kite festival--the string is coated in glass to slice through the lines of other kites and hopefully bring victory to this kid:-)
The past and the present in Ahmedebad.
Yes, those are indeed fluorescent yellow plastic palm trees in front of a Hindu temple.
The edge of thunderclouds moving in...though these ones didn't bring any rain, we did have a storm the other afternoon with such incredible thunder that BOTH Josh and I screamed.
The blooming of every green thing in Kolkata almost makes up for the occasional day that hits 105 with about a billion percent humidity. Bet you didn't even think that was possible...

OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD!!!

2007-04-02T08:49:00.000-07:00

Some of you may have heard that Josh and I are only a few days away from an east coast appearance. And I don't mean the east coast of India. I mean no-school-like-the-old-school east coast CT and NYC style with some Ruts to tie it all together. Hell yeah!!! Thanks to the generosity of Mom and Dad Feinberg, we will be swooping down on US soil for two weeks for Passover madness, the meeting of new babies, parties in the Big Apple, walks in the woods, great beer, even greater company, and revelry revelry revelry! And you can tell we are seriously stoked about this because I keep using exclamation points and writing words in threes.

We are minutes away from busting out of Kolkata, getting on one of our beloved Indian trains and moving westward. First stop, Jaipur. Then Delhi. Then London. Then Newark. Touchdown approximately 11:30 p.m. on Thursday night, east coast standard time.

We still have SO many fotos to upload--from Josh's trip to Ajanta and Ellora caves (which left me in the throes of jealousy), from discoveries in Kolkata, and even some leftovers from our trips to Pune and Kathmandu. So when we get back, the inundation will begin anew.

We wish we could see all of you during the next couple of weeks but it looks like the west coast contingent will have to wait until Octoberish. But we're sending ALL of you huge love and gobletfuls of Passover wine and celebratory spirit.

Con Amor y Paz,
J&J

Escaping the Heat and Getting in a Good Cry

2007-03-30T19:51:00.000-07:00

What better way to spend a hot Kolkata afternoon than in a (relatively) cool movie theater, crying my eyes out? While Josh went to bond with a sarod player over some South Indian yumminess of dosas and uttapam, my friend Bridget and I sat with about 100 Indians, most of whom were crying along with us, as we watched "The Namesake."

Some of you may have read The Namesake by Ms. Jhumpa "I won a Pulitzer at a ridiculously young age" Lahiri. I decided to read it while we were living in California--a little pre-India warm-up--but wasn't a fan (and many of the Indians I've met here who've read her work also didn't dig it). It was as though she took one of her short stories and steeeeettttcched it for more than 400 pages. I just couldn't get into it.

But the movie? Ah, kya bhat hai. What a thing...It made me alternately homesick for the U.S. and completely at home here in India, particularly Kolkata. The family at the center of "The Namesake" is Bengali, and some of the scenes take place in this wild and passionate metropolis. For those of you who can't make the trip halfway around the world, go see this movie and you'll catch some true glimpses of Kolkata. Even though some of the scenes are ostensibly in the 1970s and 80s, the Kolkata of today still has the same careening buses, the same raucous markets, the same strangely appealing cacophony of sounds.

It was a real treat sharing the move experience with a theater full of Bengalis who appreciated every little nuance and turn of phrase and tilt of the head that are so classically Bengali. The characters made liberal use of my favorite Bengali utterance, "Oh Baba" (or sometimes "Eh Baba"), and every time they said it, you could see dozens and dozens of heads in the audience move their heads side-to-side in gentle affirmation. Moments of cultural dissonance or misunderstanding were greeted by the audience with their own chorus of "Oh Baba," and the scenes of Kolkata were vocally approved and proudly appreciated. And the actors who played Gogol's parents...khub bhalo. So good. The small gestures they used to express their deepening love for one another were beautifully and truly Indian, and were what brought most of us to tears.

Perhaps what I enjoyed most about the movie was its decision to let those nuances and turns of phrase and slight movements of the hands stand on their own. It didn't over-interpret or over-translate. There was no "exposition girl" to spell everything out. The actors infused the gestures with so much emotion, you couldn't help but know what they meant. And if you didn't entirely understand the reference to Bata shoes or recognize one of the main streets of Kolkata, you wouldn't be lost to the strength of the story. But if you did, as the theater full of Bengalis did, then you could share a knowing smile with the Bengali or American sitting next to you.

Paz y Amor,
J&J

Do We Have a Cricket Problem?

2007-03-25T08:37:00.000-07:00

It's Sunday. Most shops are closed even though today is not an official sabbath for the majority of Kolkata's dwellers. Perhaps it's a remnant of the Brits (they were here for an awfully long time), and besides, who really wants to turn down a day of rest?

Radios crackle up the street, men gather to gamble noisily, women beat their clothes clean. And everywhere, cricket. Kids playing on sidewalks, young men holding court in parks, crowds gathered in front of appliance stores to watch the World Cup on television. Josh understands more of the intricacies of the game than I do, but neither one of us are big fans. In terms of what India has to offer we'd rather listen to Nikhil Banerejee, read some Tagore, wander around Lake Market, cook up luscious grub with Mala, go to a dance performance, travel to the mountains.

But according to Mr. Shashi Tharoor, a departing under-secretary of the UN, not only are Josh and I missing out on an amazing sporting event, but our lack of passion for cricket indicates many flaws in our character, and those flaws are of a particularly American nature. You can read his op-ed for the NYTimes here

It may be that Mr. Tharoor's op-ed is so tongue-in-cheek that I'm just not picking up what he's putting down. But I have a strong gut feeling that he truly believes not liking a particular sport is a huge indication of character, and a national character at that. What do ya'll out there have to say bout this?

Paz y Amor,
J&J

EGADS!!!!

2007-03-14T22:31:00.000-07:00

And what madness is this you ask? Was I so overcome by the generosity of my friend Nichole's birthday package of chocolate and literature and brilliant poetic commentary that I couldn't resist the urge to ravenously attack said package with my teeth??

Oh no, twas not me nor my dear hubby (he's out of town and so has been eliminated as a suspect)...I opened up the neatly wrapped package which had traveled all the way from Pareeeee only to find that SOMEONE had taken extreme liberties with my chocolate...an entire toblerone was missing. half the lindt milk chocolate bar had been eaten. and that SOMEONE in their patriotic haste to assure that the chocolate was not anthrax or a bomb CHOMPED THROUGH THE PACKAGING OF THE 70% COCAO DARK CHCOCLATE BAR (and took out some of the letter and a bit of the book while they were at it).

Some have suggested that perhaps a rat or a dog got at the chocolate. I worked on a farm in Arkansas where rats attacked my chickens...I've seen how they bite. They nibble, they gnaw. They do NOT leave behind perfectly formed HUMAN BITE MARKS where you can see the imprint of bicuspids. And they also do not REWRAP their prey.

Luckily, the dark chocolate with raspberry was relatively untouched. There is some justice in this world. And I suppose there are worse things in the world than unwittingly sharing Parisian chocolate with customs officials. At least they sent along their leftovers...

Peace and Love,
J&J

Telling It Like It Is

2007-03-14T01:29:00.000-07:00

Most days, I can soften the way India confronts me. I can find touchstones throughout my day that steady me and bring me balance. I can stop to watch the rush of water men pump into their buckets. I can wave to the young girl who smiles at me every day from the chai stand in front of Hamen-babu's shop. I can take pleasure in the sounds of the singing bowl I strike to start my writing, and the way those sounds make new sounds when they meet the noises rising off the street and up to my window. I can trade curries and dal with the woman next door, share wedding fotos with the women at the tailor shop who are very happy to know that I am a respectable married woman. I can make the men at Krishna Sweets laugh by mispronouncing the word for fourteen in such a way that it means something VERY obscene and blushing like mad (damn that Irish blood!). I can take satisfaction in the bounty of banana blossoms and tomatoes and peppers and ginger and garlic and guavas and bananas, and in the bounty of all of the people coming together around that decadence.

But there are other days. Days when I'm too tired and frustrated to contextualize and relativize and culturalize. When I don't want to soften confrontations--I want to take them by the throat and shake them into submission. I want to slap the men staring at me and muttering to each other as I pass by. I don't want anyone to touch me, even if it's by accident. I want the swarm of ants to get the hell out of my kitchen. I don't want to hear how flexible I need to be, how respectful I need to be, how patient and demure I need to be.

But in a country of over a billion people, in a city of at least 16 million and countless numbers of other noise-making beings and machines, I can't stop the dog who repeats the same shrill shrieks for hours or the Tata bus that just barely misses running me over. I can't clean the air and empty the sidewalks and disappear the trash and the urine covered walls.

So, I can make a choice. I can seeth about my hacking cough, my black nostrils, those DAMN ANTS. Or, I can laugh at the way I have to walk in the street instead of on the sidwalk--which is overrun by people selling, selling, selling and buying, buying, buying. I can let Mala cover me with purple and gold and hug me around the waist as she shows me off to our neighbors. We can play futbol in the street with a very enthusiastic young Indian man while it rains. I can proudly construct a semblance of a sentence in Bengali and receive huge grins in return. I can wander through St. Paul's Cathedral with a friend and meet four young Indian women who smile brilliantly while the most confident one tells us: "You are so beautiful, that if I were a boy, I'd run away with you." (They even complimented my shaved head:-) I can find some words which make so much sense here:

"I am uneasy at heart when I have to leave my accustomed shelter; I forget that there abides the old in the new, and there also thou abidest...When one knows thee, then alien there is none, then no door is shut. Oh, grant my prayer that I may never lose the bliss of the touch of the one in the play of the many." --Rabindranath Tagore

"Here Amen/must be said/this crowning of words/which moves into hiding/and/peace"
--Nelly Sachs (trs. Ruth and Matthew Mead)

Paz y Amor,
J&J

A Neighborhood Tour

2007-03-08T03:19:00.000-08:00

.We've nicknamed this man "The Blue Door Guy" for the shocking blue door of his shop, which is a gold mine of goodies. He climbs over tumbled boxes and piles of burlap bags to pull out everything from turmeric to garlic to sugar to ginger biscuits. It's like magic.
This is where all the action, and I'm betting all the gossip, happens--the veggie vendor.
Every morning, the fish merchants set up a few blocks away. Fish is hugely popular in West Bengal, and they do good business before it gets too hot to have fish out on the sidewalks.
One of the fish merchants doing his thang, with a really impressive blade.
This man with the great safari hat runs the Mother Dairy shop around the corner.

Trash collectors (who are always Untouchables) use these carts to do their work. People usually leave their trash in piles on somewhat designated corners (and occasionally in bins), the trash collectors pick it up, sort through it to take out anything they can bring to the merchants who buy back paper and glass and plastic, and take the rest of it to....we don't really know where, but somewhere else. Leftover from the British Empire, crumbling Victorian buildings are scattered throughout Kolkata. This one is just a few blocks over and it blows our minds to think about how decadent and opulent they must have been a hundred years ago.
It's hard to see in this foto, but the blooms on this tree are an incredible red and they are also the size of my fist. Their time is coming to an end and the sidewalks are carpeted with their crushed petals.
Some sort of beautifully palmed tree holding court on the corner of our street.
Josh let himself get a bit Holi-ed...
I got seriously Holi-ed.
Mala brought Holi to us and proudly showed us (her handiwork:-) off to everyone in the building and her friends on the streets.
Some of our neighbors basking in the glow of Holi, a spring festival, which comes with bhang lassis (weed milkshakes) and a rage of colors that people toss, squirt and dump on one another. l They're laying on top of the local vegetable stand which is packed up during the heat of the day and set up again when evening comes with some coolness.
Some Bengali graffiti. Josh and I are learning how to read this script, but we're still at the stage where we can recognize sounds but have NO idea what words they make.
I think, and someone please correct me if I'm wrong, that this is a banyan tree. They are an amazing presence on the streets of this city--wildly and exuberantly growing things.
One of the dozens of temples and shrines tucked into the side streets of our neighborhood. I dare someone to take on the challenge of counting ALL of the places to offer prayers within the labyrinth of Kolkata.

We're off to Bangla class but as always, send you all lots of peace and love from India.
J&J

P.S. We've begun uploading ALL of our fotos from our travels to a flickr site...it's a bit easier to manage then trying to get them all up on this blog and you can browse at your leisure:-) just click here It's a work in progress (aren't we all?) but hopefully you'll enjoy it.

Party in Kolkata!

2007-02-28T02:18:00.000-08:00

My darling husband threw me his first EVER surprise birthday party and did a smashing job--brought together the handful of friends we've collected during our first month here, domino's pizza (which tastes really really really good here), garlic bread, chocolate cake...and they garlanded the apartment with jasmine and marigold in true kolkata fashion.
My little sis Emma picked out a very special birthday present for me--I don't know WHERE she got the idea that I needed something like that:-) Although it did come in handy for sharing everyone else's cake.
I'm not quite sure why Joanna looks so distressed, but the party really was awesome...
Even though I'm practically a member of the AARP, I did manage to blow out my candle.
Bridget was very impressed with Josh's party-arranging skills.
Anindo-da's daughter thinks we're all a little crazy, but seems to enjoy our attempts at Bangla. And she loved the chocolate cake. Smart kid.

Anindo-da aka The Facilitator. He sits with Josh and helps us schmooze with artists and musicians and writers from all over Kolkata.
Anindo-da's wife, who is also our cooking guru. This weekend we tackle egg curry. Yummm....
Josh basking in the afterglow of a good party.
Emma definately took advantage of the party to rock out.
Some of my glorious birthday flowers. Our Bengali neighbor said it looked like we'd hosted a wedding:-)
The apartment still smells amazing and decadent with all of the flowers and we're still living off the leftover pizza:-) A totally quality way to celebrate 27 years of living...

Much peace and love,
J&J

P.S. Next blog: a tour of our neighborhood--vegetable vendor, krishna sweet shop, the fish merchant and more...

Belated Fotos

2007-02-21T02:17:00.000-08:00

Well, I had wanted to get these fotos up with the posting about our hike up to the nunnery in Kathmandu, but that didn't happen. And then I wanted to organize the fotos so they were all sequential and whatnot, but that also didn't happen so much. But asi es la vida. Enjoy...

A view of farmland in the Kathmandu valley from a national forest that we hiked through on our way up.
A couple of Nepalis resting by the side of the road. There was also a peanut vendor who sold us some snacks for the trail.
Heading up into the hills. The ridges you see are created by grazing cows roaming over the hillsides.
We didn't make it to the other side of this ridge, but Mike told us you can see the Himalayas when you cross over.
About half-way there...

A small monastary off the trail where a handful of monks live, work and pray.
This little boy was taking very good care of his baby sister. He was thrilled to have his picture taken, but she seemed more suspicious of our strange faces.
Josh taking in the view at the entrance to the nunnery's compound.
Two young nuns taking a break from the puja to bask in the sunshine.
The puja was held inside this building, at the center of the compound.
The sun beginning to set on the hillside.
A couple more shots before we headed down in darkness.

Peace and Love,
J&J

Home Sweet Home

2007-02-15T22:41:00.000-08:00

These fotos are a bit more prosaic than usual, but we wanted to attempt to share the wonder of having our own space in the middle of a city of 16 million people. Our nest is on a relatively quiet tree-lined back street, a few blocks away from one of the main avenues in Kolkata where you can find everything from wedding sarees to pressure cookers to (of course) rivers of chai. Our landlords are both artists--a painter and a sculptor--so the apartment is filled with prints, sculptures and paintings. Very bohemian. And we're adding our own touches--a growing collection of sitars and my books and papers scattered about. Here's a mini-tour of our place (at least, our place for the next nine months or so...) Of course, everything looks better in person, so hurry up and get here and take a look for yourselves:-)

One of our TWO balconies. The plants are good company and, what with Kolkata's air pollution, they come in handy for some slightly cleaner breathing.
Josh in his practice room. A rug merchant in Kathmandu gifted us the kind of wild-looking rug he's sitting on--I'll upload a better shot of it soon--which depicts a famous Persian poet and his wife looking very poetic and amorous. There's some writing which the merchant roughly translated to: "Life's short so love well."
The bedroom which has the HUGEST bed we've ever slept in. Sleeping under a mosquito net is kind of like camping.
Our living room, ready to be filled with guests (hint, hint).
Yep, I'm still fuzzy...that's our kitchen table behind me.
My writing desk with all the fotos and totems I need to keep me company while I wait for inspiration...
The view from our SECOND balcony. The blue tarp shelters a veggie vendor right outside our front door. So convenient. And so cheap. For about 75 rupees (about $1.70 give or take) I can get several pounds of: tomatoes, ginger, garlic, peas, potatoes, onions, okra, carrots, chilis, coriander leaves (i.e. cilantro) and eggs. I love India.
The huge jacaranda tree outside our apartment. We're waiting for it to come into bloom.
Thanks to the support of the U.S. Department of State, Josh is learning how to cook. He's always had a way with eggs, but is now expanding his horizons with daal, veggie stirfrys and paneer dishes. And he also looks so cute in an apron! The Bengali women in our apartment building love watching him at work...I think they're jealous:-)

Speaking of our neighbors, they've all been super welcoming...inviting us over for tea and sending kick-ass curries and sweets. Everyone who lives in the building is related, and I think they've decided that we can be their long-lost American cousins.

We've now had two weeks of Bangla (Bengali) classes and are conjugating verbs like crazy. Interesting fact for ya'll--Bangla is the fourth most widely-spoken mother tongue in the world, with over 220 million people chatting it up. Bengalis sweetly (but wrongly) assume that just because we can say "How are you?" that we must be fluent, and immediately begin talking with us at rapid-fire speed. Even when we stare at them blankly, they strive on, convinced that we will eventually understand. Gotta admire their optimism.

What it comes down to is that life is good. We miss you all though and send much love and peace your way.

J&J

The Joys of Wireless

2007-02-10T22:37:00.000-08:00

A Buddhist monastary.
Fields leading to hills topped with monastaries, leading to even bigger hills, and even farther beyond, to the Himalayas (which you can imagine into this foto).
On a back road in Kathmandu.
Hundreds (if not thousands) of prayer flags hang from the top of the Boudha Stupa.
Prayer wheels tucked into the wall around the stupa.
The faithful circling the stupa.
The Boudha Stupa.
Lighting Buddhist prayer candles by the Boudha Stupa.
Spices and teas for sale by the side of the road in Kathmandu.
One of the hundreds of temples and shrines we've passed during our wanderings.
All snuggly in Kathmandu. I was wearing a hat my mom knit for me and a Nepalese man stopped me on the street to compliment it. He asked if my mom could knit one for him too:-)
Impressive bamboo scaffolding.

Joshua and I are ridiculously connected now, with WIRELESS internet in our apartment. Oh, the luxury. So you'll be (hopefully) hearing from us more, especially as we're taking a break from our vagabond ways to chill out in domesticity for a while. We've been checking out the scene in Kolkata--went to a really lame western modern dance performance, an excellent tap/kathak performance, an opening for an art show with pour-your-own drinks, a poetry reading of Australian and Bengali writers...and all of these are FREE! And now that Josh is an official Fulbrighter, he gets hooked up with all the goodies. Like an invitation to the U.S. Consulate for a Presidents' Day dinner. Ooh lala. Hopefully he can sneak me in:-)

We're off to go grub on kathi rolls--one of Kolkata's excellent food inventions--fried parathas stuffed with saucy goodness. We'll buy at least one for anyone who comes to visit us here:-)

Peace and Love,
J&J

Some Visual Aids

2007-02-07T04:00:00.000-08:00

Monkeys in Matheran.

Knickknacks for sale outside the HUGE Kali temple in Kolkata.

Josh entertaining himself on our first long train ride (from Delhi to Kolkata, way back when...)

Josh hugging some green outside the Gandhi memorial in Pune.

A man and his horse taking goods to the market in Jaipur.

Gandhi, his wife, his assistant and other revolutionaries were imprisoned in a mansion outside of Pune after his "Quit India" speech. His wife and assistant both died during that time, and he wasn't allowed to leave the mansion for their burials. So he interred their ashes behind the mansion. When he died, his ashes were placed there as well, under the branches of a huge jacaranda tree.

My first view from Matheran--a hill station between Mumbai and Pune--where I went for a couple of days while Josh worked on his sitars. No motorized vehicles allowed...which means no diesel fumes, no honking horns, no near-death experiences trying to get from one side of the road to the other (How did the chicken cross the road in India? I would imagine she never did, and just lived on one side of the street her whole life).

People on the move at the New Delhi train station.

This sign inspires a lot of confidence when you're crossing a street in Kolkata. One of the other great signs we've seen is put up by the Kolkata traffic police and says "IF YOU DRIVE LIKE HELL, YOU'LL END UP THERE SOON."

In India, bicycles are everywhere, doing everything. I love it!

Park Street. One of the busiest roads in all of Kolkata EXCEPT when there's a bandh, like there was back in December, and it becomes wonderfully quiet:-)

We're settling into blissful domesticity in Kolkata...now we just need visitors to entertain:-) Let us know when you're coming...

Peace and Love,

J&J

Where Our Feet Took Us In Kathmandu...

2007-01-28T03:21:00.000-08:00

Walking around the Boudha Stupa--the largest temple of its kind in the world--at night, our footsteps echoing against the shuttered buildings that circle the colorfully lit holy place. A young man walking in front of us spun the prayer wheels tucked into the walls of the stupa, and each wheel spun its own sound into the quiet air. We took our time, keeping the temple on our right as Buddhists do with many holy objects and places, pausing to spin the wheels ourselves--they're filled with papers inscribed with holy mantras, and there's something very satisfying about putting blessed words into motion. Josh quoted the composer John Cage who said: "Every sound is a perfect expression of the circumstances of its creation." Felt very true surrounded by the sounds of prayers spinning and our own breathing.

To the east side of town, up hundreds of stairs, to another stupa nicknamed the Monkey Temple. Sadhus (Hindus who have renounced worldly possessions to follow their gods) rushed us with blessings they wanted us to pay for. The prayerful and the curious rung bells that reverberated against our skin. Children snacked on thin slices of coconut, young monks gazed and giggled from the monastary's roof top, candles flickered, priests poured holy water into the hands of the clamoring faithful, monkeys roamed across the hill top--at turns disdainful and playfully eager. Vendors sold chalk and visitors scrawled their names, the names of gods, scientific equations, proclamations of love all over the buddhas and walls and small temples set about the stupa. A wildly festive confluence of the religious and the secular and the energy of the human appetite for both elements--balloons, roasted chick peas, prayer beads, cameras clicking, voices chanting, crumpled plastic bags, trees strung with prayer flags, the day's haze softening the whole scene.

Several hours up and up and up into the hills around Kathmandu, following a trail through pine trees and past small huts and monastaries, to a Buddhist nunnery at about 8,000 feet. We serrendipitiously arrived during a nine day celebration of over 600 pujas (religious rites)--part of their preparation for the new year. Sitting cross-legged with nuns and monks and other devotees who made the trek, we drank blessed Nescafe, ate blessed Tibetan bread and apples and biscuits. Nuns circled through the crowd pouring blessed whiskey and wine into our hands which we sipped and then rubbed into our heads for wisdom (our friend Mike helped us follow along with all of this). The chanting never stopped, hands moved continously over prayer beads, horns and trumpets occasionally shook the building with their deep notes. We ended up trekking back down to the valley at sunset and then in the light of a glowing half moon, picking our way carefully along the ridge until we reached the road that took us back to town and a feast with friends.

With peace and love,
J&J

It's a Bird! It's a Plane! No, It's...

2007-01-24T03:01:00.000-08:00

Josh's research visa!!! Yesterday, at 5:00 p.m. Kathmandu time, a beauracrat at the Indian Embassy pasted a tiny little piece of paper (that we have been waiting for since August) into Josh's passport that is the key to actually BEING a Fulbright scholar. Hope has been restored, if not actual faith in the Fulbright grant--by this point it's become clear to us that if we hadn't come in November and sorted out the needed information on our own, we would still be waiting in the states for a grant that would probably never have come (isn't that a song?). But, so it goes...and so we go, back to Kolkata on the 26th after 10 days exploring the nooks and crannies of Kathmandu, wrapped up in our winter jackets pretty much the whole time since it's about 40 degrees outside AND inside. Makes finding a warm spot in the sun or getting toasty under the down sleeping bag all the more exciting.

Also has been an adjustment for my newly bald head, which will soon be celebrating its one week anniversary. I'm still getting used to the sensory overload everytime I step outside and feel cold air on my scalp, but it helps me blend in with all the monks in our neighborhood (doesn't totally counteract the tall white lady thing though). Ever since my aunt Dee rolled up in all her bald glory to our house in Rutland many moons ago after biking cross-country with my uncle Elvis, I've wanted to shed my wild locks for something a bit more elemental. I also couldn't quite get myself to shower here in Kathmandu, what with the cold and all, so I decided it was easier to take hair out of the bathing equation. Josh and I both went under the clippers in a little barber shop off a Kathmandu alley (fotos of the transformation are on their way) and got head and shoulder massages with the deal, all for about US$3.50. I've noticed that my husband gives me way more spontaneous head rubs then ever before--not a bad reason to keep this look for a while.

As always, more stories to follow, but my eyes are beginning to tweak out from the computer screen so I think we'll go wander around the Buddhist stupa down the street--the largest one in the world--get some air, eat some yak cheese, watch the Tibetans perform their prosterations and circle the stupa with their prayer beads, and maybe offer up a prayer or two ourselves.

With love and peace,
J&J

A Few Pics Via Dial-Up Connection in Kathmandu, So It Takes a REALLY Long Time

2007-01-20T00:57:00.000-08:00

Where Are We Now?

2007-01-16T06:52:00.000-08:00

A couple of hints: we just came from sitting around an open fire in a courtyard garden. We're wearing our winter hats. I have on Smartwool socks. We can see our breath when we're talking. Oh yeah, and we met the Himalayas for the first time while flying at 29,000 feet.

If you guessed Kathmandu, Nepal you win:-) Hoping to get fotos up tomorrow or the day after so we can share the magic (digitally at least).

As always, many stories and ponderings to share--my two days at a hill station in Matheran, Josh's new sitar (and the possibility of a THIRD sitar joining our family--as long as I get to be the first wife, that's all that matters), music madness in Ahmedabad, the omnipresence of Bryan Adams, 12 piece brass bands crammed into one rickshaw in full marching regalia, wonderful and strange and sometimes wonderfully strange encounters with all sorts of people--but for now we wanted to give you a written glimpse of our first glimpse of perhaps the most amazing mountain range in the world, straight from my journal, hot off the pages...

the smog cuts sharply against the horizon as we climb to 29,000 feet on our way to Kathmandu, Nepal. we left Delhi behind miles ago, but the most polluted city in the world still takes a toll out here and up here. in the distance, we stare at what we think are clouds until they come more distinctly into focus and become sky-piercing mountains beyond the thinly snaking rivers and determinedly straight irrigation ditches and crystallizing townships that burst over farmland. Josh explains to me how rivers curve a they grow old, or grow old as they curve. maybe both. the seat in front of us proclaims "Sim+Billy in love," flight attendants offer weak but free beer. The mountains keep holding their line. Until, suddenly, that line steps forward and surges upward. We can't see anything below us--only clouds--and the mountains crest alongside us. They roll towards us and away from us--shadowed and snowy peaks stretching out and out and out. the plane begins to turn its nose towards them, and it seems like everyone on the plane leans forward, urging us onward. amazing to think that for years and years people looked up at these mountains, and now we're in the clouds with them. of course, we have to land. 40 tons of metal can only stay up on wings for so long. we begin to descend into the foothills and dense clouds that flare over the crumpled earth and beneath our frail selves.

as always, peace and love,

J&J

Indian Trains Trips Deserve Their Own Posting

2007-01-09T06:04:00.000-08:00

Does 35 hours of consecutive travel on Indian trains count as an epic journey?

We've now done a 13 hour trip from Pune to Ahmedebad, a 25 hour journey from Dehli to Kolkata, and, of course, the potential epic--leaving Kolkata at 7:30 p.m. on January 6th and arriving in Pune at 10:30 a.m. on January 8th. (Is that 35 hours? I can't really do the math--suffice it to say, it was a bitchingly long time). That is by no means the longest train trip available for your traveling pleasure here in India--you could go from North to South, which would be without a doubt the most hardcore--but we did go East to West, which isn't too shabby either in our humble opinion.

A quick rundown of how we entertained ourselves for close to two days of train living: Josh spilled dhal out of the flimsiest aluminum container ever onto his pants and one of the porters gave us A (as in ONE) not-that-absorbent napkin to clean it up. The first night, as we headed towards the central plains of India, we huddled inside our shawls (we traveled sleeper--no complimentary blankets) as the temperature dropped rapidly to the coldest we've experienced in two months. In the evenings, we listened to the symphony of snores, burps, farts, dreamy mumblings, clattering wheels, piercing whistles, the rush of passing trains. During the daytime, Josh read Life of Pi and we talked about stories with a capital "S" vs. stories with a lowercase "s." I found myself sort of adopted into a family of 16 traveling to Mumbai for a big puja (a Hindu prayer ceremony)--they ranged in age from 75 to 1 1/2--who taught me phrases in Hindi, demanded that I sing them Christmas carols, bought me chai when I went to visit them in their berths, ordered me and Josh to come to their home for dinner once we go back to Kolkata, and had their youngest member sing me "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star." Rahul, twelve years old, posed for fotos with his blinged-out L.A. Lakers belt buckle (once I get my fotos off my memory card, I'll get them up here for you all to see) and sat with me for a couple of hours as we listened to Iron&Wine and Ben Harper on my IPod. A constant stream of vendors flowed through the car selling cheap plastic toys, chai, coffee, samosas, chana, padlocks, notebooks. Young children in dirty circus costumes did somersaults down the aisle to the drumbeats of uncles or mothers and then passed their hats. Transvestites came and clapped over our heads, demanding rupees and making obscene gestures at those who refused. Josh finished Life of Pi. We peed in toilets with open holes onto the tracks (sorry, you just can't avoid toilet references in India). A fellow traveler wished us luck as followers of Saraswati, the goddess of learning and the arts. An off-duty railway cop shared an orange with us. The last couple of hours from Mubai to Pune were filled with dense forests and sharply rising cliffs that gave way to rich farmland, and we spent most of our time at the open doors between the cars, watching the sun rise and burn off the early morning haze.

Epic or no? You decide:-)

Peace and Love,
J&J

P.S. Two quotes from William Sloane Coffin that we found relevant in light of the poverty here (and everywhere, really): "To show compassion for an individual without showing concern for the structures of society that make him an object of compassion is to be sentimental, rather than loving." and then "To love effectively, we must act collectively."

And So It Goes

2006-12-30T23:52:00.000-08:00

Here in Pune, a couple of hours south of Mumbai/Bombay, we're counting down the hours of the last day in 2006 of the Gregorian calendar. We're gonna do it up big time--play a few good games of Spit, drink some rum and coke on the porch of our little hotel room under the jacaranda and coconut trees, revel in the quietness of our little nook (a welcome relief after a couple of weeks in Kolkata next to a hotel of particularly ill-behaved foreigners who hosted drunken parties with brutally off-key singing until 4 in the morning).

We're almost at the end of our second month in India, and we're still amazed and confounded on a daily basis, although we're not as scared to cross the street as we were in the beginning. Some of the words we've heard to describe this country are (from Indians and foreigners): unfathomable, fascinating, surprising, maddening, frustrating, enchanting. And perhaps the best phrase we've heard so far: "In India, everything is possible" (courtesy of a young man we met on the 33 hour train ride from Kolkata to Mumbai). What in particular is possible and probable and, in fact, happening here?
--Tranvesites (maybe eunuchs, I'm not sure) asking for money and giving blessings in return with slightly flirtatious smiles
--Enormous Christmas day crowds on Park Street that paused in awe and wonder in front of mechanical peacocks making very very VERY slow bows.
--The fact that Josh and I actually wierdly enjoyed being in the middle of that Christmas day mass of humanity--a crowd that two months ago would have made us claustrophobic beyond imagining.
--Car horns that play minor triads and show tunes.
--An Indian man in shorts (a very strange sight actually) who asked us if Americans cooked with oil.
--Evangelical Hindus.
--A trip to the post office turning into an hour long venture--you walk inside and everyone looks at you like you must be lost. Finally someone waves you to a particular window where a man weighs the letters and tells you how much postage you need. You then go to another window and a woman gives you stamps, but they don't actually stick to the letter. The post office doesn't actually have any tape or glue, so you cross the street to the bookstore where you smear industrial strength glue all over the letter. You then go back to the post office, double check the postage and drop the letter in a box. Everyone later assures you that this is an infinitely better system than 10 or 15 years ago when one of Josh's teachers found letters he'd sent on top of a huge pile of mail dumped on the side of the street.
--A young Indian woman on the train who belted out Celine Dion's song from the Titantic with an astounding voice and perfect English pronunciation. She then asked me to sing her some Michael Jackson songs. I settled for a rousing rendition of Rudoph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.
--"Lady In Red" playing while I write this.

Our Hindi is coming along, although we got a bit sidetracked by Bengali when we were in Kolkata. I'm still trapped in the present tense and the occasional gerund if I'm lucky, but I do know how to say "Go away!!" very forcefully which came in handy on the street the other day with a man who decided to share a body part with me that I really didn't want to see--unfortunately an experience that I've had in the States and Guatemala as well. But that was quickly negated by the very kind young men working at our hotel who helped me practice my Hindi with sentences like "My husband plays the sitar," "I am a poet," "Please turn on the meter," "This place is very beautiful." When in doubt we say "Achaa."

Josh and I are escaping the urban experience for a couple of days--heading to a hill station that has banned autos and plastic bags. Our kind of place. We'll then return to Pune for a few more days until Josh's brand new sitar is all spiffed up and ready to join our happy little family.

May the New Year (as arbitrary as it is) bring you as much joy, peace and love as you have all blessed us with.

J&J

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!

2006-12-24T22:18:00.000-08:00

And man, do they do Christmas in Kolkata. From what I've been told, Jesus is included somewhere in the Hindu pantheon of gods, and even if he wasn't, who can resist a chance to celebrate during the darkest time of the year? Not Indians, that's for sure. Preparations began in ernest a week or two ago, and now the streets are overflowing with colored tinsel, plastic Santas and shiny green Christmas trees. The hotel we're staying at (the Hotel Maria, which is actually wierdly appropriate for this particular holiday) strung up heart-shaped balloons, a pinata and a cascade of lights which is pretty magical, and last night, on Christmas Eve, the Indian version of a mariachi band stormed all the hotels and businesses along this street and people danced like mad.

Our friend Jimmy kindly treated us to a sumptuous Christmas buffet at The Grand Hotel--a five star deal--and so our little family of three toasted with mulled wine and feasted till our bellies were beyond full. The evening was even sort of chilly, at least by Kolkata standards, and as we walked back to our hotel we found ourselves under a huge canopy of white lights strung over the road and it did feel a bit (maybe not a lot) like Christmas.

Josh and I created our own Hannuakah/Christmas rituals, which is a nice way of saying that our room is too small to hide presents and we were too impatient to wait until the morning of the 25th to open our goodies, so we started a few days ago:-) We're hoping to see some snow in Katmandu when we head there mid-January, so we might have to extend the holiday celebration until then since both of us are a bit homesick for cold weather and crisp winter air.

Christmas Eve was relatively rowdy, but Christmas Day is easing along pretty quietly. The crows are out, of course, but many folks are home--I think it may even be a national holiday--so the day does have a sort of tender calm about it. Josh will practice on his newly gifted practice mat. I'll read some of my newly gifted books (Josh found me a collection of Kafka's letters!). We'll probably pack our bags up since tomorrow we begin traveling again--off to Pune via Mumbia on a 35 hour train ride give or take a few hours--maybe wander the streets a bit, visit our favorite nook of a restuarant (The Turkish Corner) for a classic Christmas Day meal of fresh pita with falafel and mutton kabab.

We're sending all of you--our East Coast clan, our West Coast clan, our Everyone in Between and Beyond clan--much love and peace,

J&J
J&J

We've been bandhed!

2006-12-21T01:29:00.000-08:00

Those of you who've spent time immersed in the wildness of Kolkata have been bandhed, I'm sure. And for those of you who haven't made it to the capital of West Bengal, a state with a communist party that's been in power for many moons, imagine a city of almost 15 million people brought to an almost absolute halt, with the exception of kids playing cricket in the streets and men camped out on sidewalks listening to the radio and drinking gallons of chai. A bandh is a strike and can be called by any party at any time for pretty much any reason--right now the cause is the struggle of a group of small farmers trying to hold onto their land under pressure from an auto company and certain political groups, although of course, perspectives on this cause run a huge gamut--with varying results, depending on how the political winds are blowing. Sometimes a few small shops close up for the day. Other times, NOTHING operates--not taxis, not banks, not restaurants, not the IT industry--an almost complete economic shutdown.

Most of the Indians we've met so far--small shopowners, rickshaw drivers, teachers, bankers, etc etc--are frustrated with these bandhs, especially since FOUR have been called this month, not counting the opposition party's demand yesterday for a 48 hour bandh that they quickly withdrew when it became clear no one would hold to it. Parties may call bandhs on "behalf of the oppressed" but in our conversations with people, they see political manipulation for votes, and as a consequence of that manipulation, loss of income that they and their families depend on. They acknowledge the value of strikes as a tool against the power-hungry, but don't have much faith in how current strikes are utilized.

In this case, the auto company says it paid the farmers fair and square. Some seem satisfied. Others are not. Now various political parties are clamoring to be on the side of big business bringing invaluable economic opportunities to a growing state, while others clamor to be on the side of the farmers, taking a stand against big business and unchecked development. Some farmers seem happy with this development. Others are not. Then two days ago, a young woman (the daughter of one of the protesting farmers) turned up dead on the disputed land--burned, possibly raped and strangled. The leader of the opposition party, on day 17 of a hunger strike, demanded the two day strike and sent party members to lay down in front of traffic on main streets. The leading party called on the public to ignore the demand and denounced "the manipulation of public sentiment," although they seemed happy to urge the public on for their own strike which shut down much of the state on December 14th.

The general view on the streets of all of this is that chances are the politicians will soon choose another cause, big business will keep trying to make as much money as possible, and the poor and marginalized will remain poor and marginalized.

On a less cynical note, we went man-shawl shopping for Josh the other day and ended up having tea and biscuits with the Kashmiri owner, whose nickname is Zaam (how awesome is that?) and trading stories and questions for over an hour. He speaks Kashmiri, Urdu, Bengali, Hindi, English, and ïf God permits" Punjabi in another year or two. He offered us two booklets on Islam and was so excited when we accepted them, he sent his cousin to get chai and coconut biscuits. He sat cross-legged on a low platform with shawls all around him. Josh and I sat on low plastic stools and sipped out of lovely blue and white china cups. He told us about coming to Kolkata for his "love affair." Eighteen years later, married to the woman of that love affair, he runs a shawl business with various brothers and cousins, and returns to Kashmir once a year to visit his wife and three daughters. The eldest wants to be an aerospace engineer and his "greatest dream"is to hear her give a lecture in the U.S.

Josh asked him about the role of music in Islam, and he told us that in his limited knowlege it's forbidden. But he admitted that he thinks there is good music and that priests can sometimes mislead the people. I asked him about poetry and he said that when he was a young man, he and and his friends wrote love letters filled with poetry about beauty and romance. He asked us if we were married and seemed quite pleased that we are. He spoke lovingly of Allah and Mohammed and fondly of "the Jesus Christ"and "the Moses." Then he walked us back to our hotel, introducing us to his younger brother along the way who looked like a Bollywood star, apologized for "disturbing"us and extended an open-ended invitation to his shop. It was a sweet, open, somtimes startling, honest and good-natured sharing. Not a huge theological or cultural debate, but a small trading of details, based on kindless and a desire to know more about one another. What more can you ask for?

Paz y Amor,
J&J

And the pondering continues...

2006-12-16T01:53:00.000-08:00

I appreciate so much what all of you have offered about giving and sharing and being a generous member of a community, while at the same time being honest about the complicated nature of poverty. There are so many perspectives--religious, spiritual, practical, personal. What Josh Brown wrote about the potential presence of Allah in the person begging for a rupee or some food is part of the Christian tradition as well--Christ is in everyone, particularly in the poor and oppressed. The Catholic radical Dorothy Day founded the Catholic Workers based on that belief. Robbie shared the Jewish tenants on giving, and particularly the value of giving so that God is your only and ultimate witness. From a more secular perspective, the great American poet Walt Whitman wrote in his preface to Leaves of Grass: "Give alms to all who ask."

I strongly believe that generosity must extend beyond giving material goods to someone, although I'm still convinced that human to human interaction is valuable when motivated by compassion and empathy rather than guilt, and when you make the effort, as Jina pointed out, to know someone as a person and not just a "begger." I have been lucky to work with many people and organizations dedicated to attacking poverty at its roots--lack of education and skills, lack of job opportunities, lack of resources, lack of self-sufficiency--and I have witnessed sometimes small and sometimes huge successes as men and women celebrate the reality of providing for their families' bellies, minds and spirits, which is really all most of us are looking for.

I carry an article with me that my father gave to me several years ago--it's travelled with me from Portland to Boston to Guatemala to India. It's written by a Catholic priest, but I think the principles hold regardless of religion (let me know if you think I'm wrong on that point). The main thrust of the article is that we live in a world of plenty, although that plenty is not distributed in a particularly fair way (side note: when I worked for Heifer Project, kids asked me all the time why we couldn't just fill airplanes and ships full of food and send them to hungry people around the world. A sweet, though not truly sustainable idea.) What really wreaks havoc though is the human fear of scarcity, on a personal level as well as on wider community levels. We are so scared of not having enough even when we have MORE than enough, that we often, without true cause, deny those around us the chance to have enough. The article always reminds me of what Dorothy Day said about her unfailing belief in pacifism even during World War II which many people around her called a just war. They asked her time and time again how she could hold to a principle when reality dicated another route. Her response was (and this is paraphrased a bit): "how do we know pacifism doesn't work? Have millions of people and their governments dedicated themselves to peace? Have we really tried?"

How long would poverty last in the face of individual and collective action on the part of all of us?

Paz y Amor,
J&J

BUENAS NOTICIAS!! and some more serious musings...

2006-12-13T04:42:00.000-08:00

The government of India has mostly kindly (and in such a timely fashion:-) approved Josh's research visa!! Got word this morning, danced a little jig and started making plans to go to Katmandu and get this grant happening. We're hoping to head to Nepal in mid-January to make it all official--we have to wait 15 days before we can go, but at the end of December we have a hot date with Josh's new sitar and then one of the biggest Indian music fests begins rocking out on January 1st and doesn't wrap up until the 13th. So we'll make our way to Pune and then Amehdebad, back up to Jaipur for 2 days or so to pack up our stuff and check in with Krishna-ji, fly (travelling in style:-) to Katmandu for a week (we have to stay for at least 4 days to get all the paperwork taken care of--paperwork? Shocking...) and then to Kolkata for the Dover Lane music festival. Phew. Madness. But the good kind of madness. The kind of madness that we gleefully welcome with open arms...

So we continue to make our way in Kolkata. Alam played a concert last weekend which was rock-solid, we had a gorge-fest on Domino's pizza (gasp!!), Josh is practicing with a tabla player as I write this, I have eaten so much fresh yogurt Josh is honestly a bit terrified, and we found falafel. Food is a huge part of this experience:-)

On a more serious note, we are also trying to come to terms with how to give to those around us who are desperately poor--and there are many of them. We, of course, received many warnings before coming to India (and several since our arrival) about the dangers and drawbacks of giving to the men, women and children who tug on our sleeves, grab our hands and plead over and over again for a few rupees--that we would be mobbed if we gave, that we can always give to a charity or a social welfare program, that the locals don't want us to give to those who beg since it encourages their begging. But saying "no"over and over again just doesn't feel right. Although Josh and I are not well off by US standards, the truth of the matter is we could afford to come to India and that automatically places us on a higher economic plane which is startling clear to everyone on the street. We have made some donations to organizations working with the poor and the homeless, but I have to ask, isn't it a valuable human to human gesture to look someone in the eye and give them the little they are asking for? There are of course inconveniences and hassles that come with giving in that way--we haven't been mobbed but we do become instant targets, and who knows how much a few rupees or a bag of powdered milk or some pieces of nan will do for someone. But I find it hard to believe it means nothing, and want so much to believe that it means something.

Any thoughts from you folks out there?

Paz y Amor,
J&J

even MORE fotos...

2006-12-13T04:10:00.000-08:00

A view of Jaipur.
Some artwork from Krishna-ji's home.
My writing desk. The Hindu godddess of learning, Saraswati, keeping watch.

The kitchen altar in our Jaipur place.
The remnants of a Rajasthani meal with banana leaf plates. Occasionally leaky, but otherwise, a very good idea.
Josh hard at work in the practice room at our apartment in Jaipur.
A classic Indian toilet. There is also a strange hybrid of the Indian toilet and western toilet where there is a typical western bowl (not in the ground) but there are footrests on the side of the bowl, so you can squat or sit...interesting but maybe not so functional?
This sign is almost as good as the one put up by the Kolkata traffic police, which says: "If you drive like hell, you'll end up there soon."

On the Move in Kolkatta

2006-12-07T01:08:00.000-08:00

Left Jaipur on Sunday to begin yet another journey...5 hours later the bus deposited us in Delhi and we shoved ourselves, the pack and the sitar into a rickshaw. Arrived at the New Delhi train station, which Josh said felt just like Penn in NYC, ate some extraordinarily salty but cheap dhaal, and then loaded ourselves onto our sleeper car for the 15 hour ride to Kolkatta.

We had a wonderful train ride--bonded with two couples who were in the berths next to us, talking about Indian politics, US politics, poetry, ragas, Harry Potter, and I spent a lot of time playing hide-and-seek with the 1 1/2 year old little son of one of the couples. The food was pretty damn good (although the white bread and one slice of American cheese sandwich they served for tea was a bit strange. But at least it came with ketchup.), and there is nothing in the world like falling asleep on a train. We woke up to the Bengali countryside--women in brilliant saris and men in dhotis harvesting rice paddies and wheat fields, red mud brick houses with thatched roofs, palm trees and delicate tall grasses--a far cry from the dusty pink cliffs and yellow mustard flowers of Rajasthan.

A few hours later, we climbed out of the Kolkatta train station into what felt SO MUCH like New York City--yellow cabs, tall apartment buildings, crumbling Victorian homes, and the pulse of 14 million people. The family of one of Josh's students back in Boston has so kindly put us up for our first few days here. They are serious about feeding us and stuff us full with chapatis and Bengali sweets. Our friend Alaam arrived the day after us, and we'll be cheering him on at a couple of concerts here in Kolkatta and maybe doing some Indian-style clubbing (??!!). In the meantime, we've done some serious shopping (Josh bought a totally blinged out kurta) and are out on the town as I write this, ready to explore the culture mecca and madness of this city.

The grant continues to wait for approval from the government of India, so we, inturn, continue to practice serious adherence to the constantly evolving plan. Josh has a gorgeous new sitar waiting for him in Pune (south of Mumbai), there are music festivals in Ahmedebad and Kolatta, and we are contemplating spending some time in the mountains. We'll let you know where we're laying our heads as soon as we know:-) For now, it looks like we'll be in Kolkatta for at least two more weeks, and then...stay tuned:-)

Peace and Love,
J&J

A few more pics...

2006-12-07T00:48:00.000-08:00

We went to an elephant polo match in Jaipur...I cannot possibly describe just how strange it is. The elephants--each carrying a driver and a polo player--walk slowly up and down a tiny field, while the players swat at a plastic ball with very long poles. The most entertaining part of the whole experience was sitting in the free seats and watching everyone try to get as close to the fence as possible before the police guard scolded them back.
ELEPHANT POLO IS AWESOME!!!!
Yay for Indian bucket baths! Many homes and hotels, our lil' abode included, have "geasers" which are hot water heaters. The house we're staying at here in Kolkatta has wacky wiring from 60 years ago, so instead of a geaser, we have a 220 volt plug-in-coil that we put in a metal bucket (being very careful not to touch the bucket or the water), heat the water and THEN pour it into the ubiquitious plastic bucket.

BHUT ACCHA!!

2006-12-01T05:26:00.000-08:00

Josh is now officially (flip the birdie at the beauracrats) affiliated with Rajasthan University! We didn't even have to go arm-wrestle them one more time as we'd feared (I was going to challenge them to leg-wrestling which is really more my forte, but maybe I'll be able to show off those skills another time). So the final push is on, and we could be flying to Katmandu for our new visas by the end of December. Maybe we'll get to do New Year's in Nepal!

In the meantime, we're going on our first Indian train trip and heading east to Kolkatta, where all things Hindustani are happening. We'll be catching up with our friend Alaam--a totally rocking sarod player--and grubbing on some serious Bengali fish dishes (not so much the fish here in Jaipur, what with being the desert and all).

Josh continues to work on deepening his grooves and working on his futbol skills--we bought a ball the other day and have been busting some serious moves down at the local park, where we have become late afternoon entertainment for our neighbors. Older women watch us from the roofs of their homes, gaggles of little kids dash around the field occasionally kicking at the ball, and the young men stand to the side looking cool in the TIGHTEST pants I have ever seen on men. Everyone has been very kind and good-natured in their staring, but sometimes we'd like to put signs on our backs in Hindi that say: "YES, WE KNOW WE'RE WHITE. IT IS VERY WIERD, BUT THERE'S NOTHING WE CAN DO ABOUT IT. MAYBE WE COULD TALK ABOUT SOMETHING ELSE. LIKE HOW WIERD ELEPHANT POLO AND CRICKET ARE."

I'm waiting until we return from Kolkatta to study Hindi with a teacher, but I've got a couple of books and no fear when it comes to asking questions, so I'm cobbling together a semblance of communication in Hindi. I love piecing together the curves and flicks of ink that make the letters and then being able to recognize the sounds. I don't remember learning how to read in English, the excitement of seeing the letter A and knowing what it meant every time, so learning a whole new system of symbols and being old enough to (mostly) consciously work on it is getting me seriously giddy. Of course, right now, even when I recognize a sound, I'm a long way from knowing what the word means but putting together sound and symbol at even the most basic level satisfies my poetic soul.

I'll end this blog with some scribbles from my journal (which is filling up rapidly:-)

Not only are the nights cooling, but the mornings hold onto the evenings' chill for longer. Standing in the doorway, I watch women throughout the neighborhood hang saris and kurtas and acid-washed jeans, their own hair freshly ashed and hanging loose and heavy down their necks and backs. By the time these women step outside to go to the markety, they'll be impeccably twisted and turned in their saris and their hair will be neatly and demurely braided. Kids in the neighborhood have their eyes fixed with great seriousness on kites--wisps of paper stretched over thin pieces of wood, diving wildly over rooftops and powerlines. Some have fallen on our roof and on the trees in front of the house, but the sky, especially by mid-afternoon when the older kids are out of school, continues to swarm with spinning, flighted paper.

My skin and sweat smell like curry and cilantro. I found guavas at the market and remembered young girls bringing them to me at the library in El Tejar. Ate at Sanjay's Omelette stand in Bapu Nagar--10 rupees for scrambled eggs with onions, tomatoes, garlic and the requisite white break--in the company of several men who seemed a bit confused by my presence but were kindly distant. Ventured into the old city. Stuck to the main roads for this particular foray but peered down the tight side streets overfull with scooters, bicycles, peanut roasters, vegetable hawkers--more full even than the main markets. Archway upon archway telescoped visions of delicate pink minarets and signs with gods' names. Red-assed baboons loped along the low roofs and paused in front of windows to chatter at their reflections. Open store fronts spilled forth teak kettles, bolts of silk, roasted coffee, vitamins, mounds and mounds of spices, mattresses, bicycle tires, incense, marigolds and of course, everywhere, chai--steaming sweetness in tiny shops tucked between the bucket-sellers and watch-sellers, in the hands of chatting shop owners. Men stirring huge pots of boiling water, mixing in milk, pounds of sugar, cardamom, cloves, ginger.

On the walk home, an old man on a bicycle grinned at me unabashedly, waved vigorously and shouted "HELLO!" I grinned and waved back, and he hooted gleefully. It was a joyful exchange. It's good to be here.

Love and Peace,
J&J

We've got it going on...

2006-11-30T04:36:00.000-08:00

with the first of many fotos for your viewing pleasure:-) Quick recap: our bags at PDX; Josh loving the "short" flight to Delhi; our first breakfast at our overpriced hotel; the sweet bed at our overpriced hotel; a view of delhi from the window of our overpriced hotel (okay, i'll stop with that now); motorbikes in Jaipur taking of like a pack of hyenas; another shot from a careening autorickshaw (also known as tuk-tuks for you gaute lovers); our smiling faces; a camel negotiating its way through the pack of motorized hyenas:-)

If this works, we'll have more recent shots up ASAP...

love and doves, peace and bike grease,
J&J

Fighting the good fight...

2006-11-25T05:39:00.000-08:00

I am currently battling with yet another computer that refuses upload fotos, but I will win the war. I swear. Even if I have to search all of Jaipur, evading taxi wallahs and cow patties, subsisting only on pakora and chai, until I achieve victory.

Duking it out with the computer aint no thang but a chicken wing compared to coming face to face with low level beauracrats like those we've been trying to alternately charm, evade and bully in order to get that last leeeeeetle piece of paper Josh needs for the Fulbright to be all official and whatnot. They have done their best to squash and stymie us but we are strong in spirit (and desperate to spend the government's money instead of ours:-) and refuse to tap out.

Turns out that the Fulbright folks have been sending a certain form to Rajasthan University for the last NINE MONTHS, but it's only been "discovered" at the university since we arrived and started doing our gadfly routine. Depending on our mood, it's either hysterical or maddening (truthfully, most the of the time it's both) that someone will kindly offer us chai amd potato chips while telling us there is nothing they can do for us when someone else has already assured us that "there is no problem." Come Tuesday though, we will know if we have triumphed or if the dueling will continue...keep your fingers crossed for us...If this continues, I may have to fly my mother to Jaipur to lay the smack down.

But for two weeks, we're not that bruised or battered. In fact, we're healthy (Josh even went to the dentist) and in a constant state of discovery which is mostly pretty wonderous although definately mind-bending and heart-twisting at times--
...the woman who cooks for us, Ratna, loves to dance with some serious sass while she expertly chops gobi and piaz (cauliflower and onion) to make some of the most flavorful food we've ever had
...a lovely rooftop restaurant where Josh and I were the only customers and had a romantic dinner after the electricity went out and we dined by candlelight
...at the train station we were trying desperately to decipher the schedules in order to book a ticket to Kolkatta when a crowd of men got us the right form (they are CRAZY about forms in this country), filled it out for us and ushered us to the front of the (very slow moving) line
...children begging in front of the mansions and decadantly constructed temples that line some of the main streets of Jaipur
...that unavoidable whiff of urine that rises to your nose every time you pass a wall
...successfully buying vegetables and milk and yogurt in (mostly) Hindi!
...cows eating their way through piles of trash while cars swerve madly to avoid hitting them--a rickshaw driver told Josh "if I hit a person, okay...if I hit a cow??!!!"
...two little boys offering to let me fly their kite

More to come of course...

Amor y Paz
J&J

Things We've Learned So Far...In No Particular Order...

2006-11-20T05:08:00.000-08:00

1. Indian men like walk past Josh when he's wearing a kurta and sunglasses and say things like "You are looking so good today."
2. Excellent sayings such as "No worry, chicken curry," which was courtesy of our multi-lingual rickshaw driver today (He spoke Hindi, English, French, Italian as well as a local dialect. Damn.)
3. If you're tired enough your first morning in Delhi, your taxi drivers might be able to talk you into spending some time wandering through certain shops where they get "little presents" when they bring tourists by, although you will be assured time and time again that you do not need to buy anything. But it wouldn't hurt.
4. No matter what you ask for, even if it's completely impossible, the first thing you hear will be "No problem."
5. Elephant polo is slowest, wierdest game on the planet. Even though the announcer assured us it was "the inevitable evolution of India's love affair with polo and with elephants."
6. People like to watch us bargain, and sometimes, help us not get completely screwed. Two particular incidents come to mind-- (1)one rickshaw driver tried to convince us it was 100 rupees from our house to Josh's teacher. We'd already made the trips several times and paid 50. Within 30 seconds, 4 other drivers and several young boys had gathered--maybe to see if we could hold our own or if they could go home with another great story about how the foreigners got ripped off and seemed happy about it:-) When we had insisted on 50 rupees for a few minutes, one of the other drivers stepped up, punched the offending driver in the shoulder and told us to pay 50. (2) A few nights ago, while dueling it out with a driver yet again, a young man shouted to us in a very bold voice "YOU ARE EXACTLY RIGHT." The driver didn't bargain for much longer.
7. According to one older woman we met in front of a food stand, even though Jessica is very white, she has Indian features. Who knew?
8. Spanish is totally, completely, utterly, without a shadow of a doubt, USELESS here. But Jessica keeps trying...
9. The Indian government regulates helmet use on motorcycles and seatbelts in cars.
10. We've never seen more autos (and animals, including the occasional camel and elephant) run red lights, cut through the gaps in concrete medians, drive against oncoming traffic, all the while, the drivers happily smoking bidis and/or chatting on their cell phones.

More to come (and those gosh darn pics too...)

Peace and Love,
J&J

and we're here...at last...

2006-11-14T03:57:00.000-08:00

Quick post before the computer blinks out on me again and I have to rewrite the long version for the billionth time--mental note, write out the details BEFORE going to use the Internet.

Today is our one week anniversary of our departure from Portland to India, which for the record, I'm willing to bet is about as far as you can travel without actually circumnavigating the globe. Which means, although a week ago today we began our journey, we didn't arrive in La India until last Wednesday about 9:30 pm local time (13 1/2 hours ahead of Pacific coast time.) And that 25 hours of travel, give or take, was just to get to Delhi. Photos of our slow descent into madness and delirium after those hours will be posted soon for your viewing pleasure.

There are, of course, many stories of adventures and "learning experiences" which I'll get to over the next few posts, but for now, the bare bones--arrive in Delhi. Wrestle our two duffle bags, two packs, one sitar, and one gourd into an Al Capone-Chicago gangster style taxi. And our two exhausted selves. Go to hotel where reservation had been made. Manager informs us NO reservation has been made. Interesting. 11:00 pm and five billion hotels later...pay too much for a room but are in no position to bargain. Clearly we are desperate. Asi es la vida (can't say that in Hindi yet.) But there's a bed and windows and an Indian-style bathroom (that's right...no t.p.). Collapse into sleep.

Next morning, wrestle our things back into the same taxi and slowly and leisurely make our way through the well-behaved traffic of India's capital. HA! But we accept the possibility of death (if we could do it in Guatemala, we can do it here) and eventually make our way to the bus station. Seven hours later we're in Jaipur after passing camels, donkeys, cars without sideview mirrors, and so many amazing colors--gold bangles, green yellow pink blue saris, red cliffs. Josh's teacher sends his brother and nephew to pick us up...achaa (that's "good"). They swooped down and before we knew it, we were tucked away in their beautiful ancestral home, where at least 25 people live.

And finally, on Friday, we put our bags down in our very own apartment. The days have been full of chai, learning Hindi, lots of practice, lots of writing, negotiating at the market, visiting temples, and meeting kind and generous people everywhere.

More details and charming anecdotes to follow soon.

With love and peace,
J&J

We're busting outta here!

2006-10-26T12:57:00.000-07:00

Still no word from La India, except "Sorry, no visa approval yet..." So we're taking matters into our own hands. We are now the proud owners of ten year tourist visas to India and also of two one-way tickets to New Delhi. We're not messing around here. According to Fulbright, we can wait in Jaipur for the well-oiled beauracracy (ha!) to process Josh's visa. Then Josh can pop over to Katmandu, Nepal to pick up said visa (don't ask why, it just gets ridiculous like this sometimes) and the Fulbright will officially began. Hopefully we won't have to wait too much longer--the orginal date was mid-August--but at least we can wait in India, practice our Hindi and get acclimated to life on the other side of the planet.

We begin our journey on November 7th and will arrive in Delhi on the 8th--we've got a five hour layover in Newark, so feel free to swing by if you're in the neighborhood--probably crash there for the night before making our way down to Jaipur (about six hours away) where Josh's teacher has kindly arranged for us to live in a small house that comes with a cook! Oh my. How bougie of us:-) But it should be a lot easier to negotiate the market and that whole language-that-we-don't-know situation with some help. Maybe I'll come across some Spanish speaking Rajisthani folks...

So until the 7th, we'll be chilling with the Pierce clan in Portland taking care of things like health insurance and typhoid vaccines. You'll be hearing more from us soon...much love...

waiting on a visa

2006-09-09T23:10:00.000-07:00

Well, fall seems ready to descend upon us at any moment, but we're still chilling in Cali and the word from India is we've got at least 3-4 more weeks before there's any more news about Josh's research visa. Our mantra right now is "There are worse things in the world than waiting to hear when we're going to get our free trip to India."