We're sitting in our (new) hotel room. It's three-twenty five in the afternoon. There is the feathering sound of the ceiling fan competing with the sound of voices from the neighbor's TV. It's not a soap opera, but there are a number of angry women talking rapidly, followed by a deep-voiced man who seems rational. But somehow wrong--as in guilty. The language? Dunno. Marathi? Hindi? Tamil? It's not English. I can't understand a word, yet it's oddly distracting. I find myself leaning into it, waiting to hear the tenor of the dude's voice. I picture him as slightly grey. The girl half his age--a babe.
Some things, you don't need specific information. We walked up to Vittala Temple today. Went along the river, which was fairly quiet on the way up. Then, on the way back, it's close to lunch and there are a number of Pilgrims in bright orange saris and wrap-around skirts-like things, the men with their chests exposed. One couple were standing perpendicular to the breeze, letting a colorful sheet flap between them, and I thought it must be some religious offering. A holy act. Until she started barking at him to grab a hold, pull it tight so they could fold it. Again, I didn't understand word one of her directives, but pretty much knew the drill.
When we got closer to the bazaar (where our hotel and various restaurants, businesses, etc. are located) an Aussie dude had strung a strap between two trees. It was heavy webbing, with a ratcheting device which allowed him to draw it super tight. I saw the same set-up in Mumbai, along Marine Drive, with kids lined up to try their skill at tight-rope walking on the webbing. Here, too there were a bunch of locals gathered around, trying their best to walk the twenty-odd feet between the two massive tree trunks. One guy was amazing. He'd get into this zone--with a dead stare--and just grip that webbing with his toes, an invisible force holding him from above. I asked the Aussie about it.
"I string it up whenever I get a chance. Nothing like it for drawing a crowd."
"You carry this whole set-up around with you?"
"Yeah," He flashed a white smile. "Real pain in the ass. It's heavy, but I reckon it's worth it. You want to give it a go?"
Of course I did. The Indian dudes politely watched me suck at it, and made encouraging comment. Again, didn't understand a word.
I don't really have a theme here. But I'm feeling a sense of pleasure from the give and take, as well as the familiar dynamic of people interacting with each other. Mind, it can be exhausting. Up at the temple, Rebecca was surrounded by thirty or forty young school girls in their little brown school uniforms. They ask her name, and all laugh and repeat it when she tells them. The boys filing past me, offering their hands to shake and, "Good morning, sir." The tuk-tuk drivers asking if you need a lift, the touts selling you hotel rooms, tours, etc. But it's amazingly buoyant as well. We're used to a culture which is necessarily more divided and somehow more private. There's glass in the windows lest we let the heat out. We drive everywhere and always. We don't sit on our porches much. And certainly a large part of the Indian world is lived behind closed doors and A.C.-preserving glass. But a huge part hangs out and says hello. I shall do my best to respond in kind.
~Mike
Some things, you don't need specific information. We walked up to Vittala Temple today. Went along the river, which was fairly quiet on the way up. Then, on the way back, it's close to lunch and there are a number of Pilgrims in bright orange saris and wrap-around skirts-like things, the men with their chests exposed. One couple were standing perpendicular to the breeze, letting a colorful sheet flap between them, and I thought it must be some religious offering. A holy act. Until she started barking at him to grab a hold, pull it tight so they could fold it. Again, I didn't understand word one of her directives, but pretty much knew the drill.
When we got closer to the bazaar (where our hotel and various restaurants, businesses, etc. are located) an Aussie dude had strung a strap between two trees. It was heavy webbing, with a ratcheting device which allowed him to draw it super tight. I saw the same set-up in Mumbai, along Marine Drive, with kids lined up to try their skill at tight-rope walking on the webbing. Here, too there were a bunch of locals gathered around, trying their best to walk the twenty-odd feet between the two massive tree trunks. One guy was amazing. He'd get into this zone--with a dead stare--and just grip that webbing with his toes, an invisible force holding him from above. I asked the Aussie about it.
"I string it up whenever I get a chance. Nothing like it for drawing a crowd."
"You carry this whole set-up around with you?"
"Yeah," He flashed a white smile. "Real pain in the ass. It's heavy, but I reckon it's worth it. You want to give it a go?"
Of course I did. The Indian dudes politely watched me suck at it, and made encouraging comment. Again, didn't understand a word.
I don't really have a theme here. But I'm feeling a sense of pleasure from the give and take, as well as the familiar dynamic of people interacting with each other. Mind, it can be exhausting. Up at the temple, Rebecca was surrounded by thirty or forty young school girls in their little brown school uniforms. They ask her name, and all laugh and repeat it when she tells them. The boys filing past me, offering their hands to shake and, "Good morning, sir." The tuk-tuk drivers asking if you need a lift, the touts selling you hotel rooms, tours, etc. But it's amazingly buoyant as well. We're used to a culture which is necessarily more divided and somehow more private. There's glass in the windows lest we let the heat out. We drive everywhere and always. We don't sit on our porches much. And certainly a large part of the Indian world is lived behind closed doors and A.C.-preserving glass. But a huge part hangs out and says hello. I shall do my best to respond in kind.
~Mike
It's amazing to meet new people, even in your own back yard!!
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