Look both ways!!!

I know you’ve been waiting breathlessly for my account of the traffic situation here in Delhi. Let me start with some statistics. Simple statistics. Statistics that I can calculate using only my fingers. To date, I have never seen a stop sign. The reason I am so certain of this is that I am dying to see this particular sign written in Hindi. Yes I do have a collection of photos of stop signs from around the world and the reason I am so certain they are stop signs is that they are the red octagonal shapes with which we are readily familiar. (Less familiar perhaps is the fact that the greater number of sides on a sign, the more critical a message it contains. It’s true. I am FANTASTIC at Trivial Pursuit © US version.) Not one stop sign in this entire city of 13 million. I’m not sure if that is more or less scary than the number of traffic lights I have personally witnessed since my arrival: 6. However, even in the presence of a stop light, I remain reluctant to cross the street, though I have become quite the accomplished jay-walker. Have I mentioned that this is not a pedestrian friendly town?

For your viewing pleasure, I include photos of the ever shifting and largely ignored traffic circle (i.e., rusty barrel) located at the busiest intersection in my neighborhood, a local school bus, my favorite kind of taxi in town, and a warning to those who would park where they are not wanted…

I Dream of Jeannie

Meet Kuheli. She is the receptionist at the MSF office where I work. Today Kuheli told me that I remind her of Jeannie from I Dream of Jeannie. I like Kuheli!

Also, look at the beautiful outfit that she's wearing. It is made of a Kashmiri wool/cotton blend that she bought when the Kashmiri's knocked on her door to sell fabric to all of the people in her neighborhood. They come in December. It's December now. I JUST learned that Kuheli lives really close to me. She has been advised to call me the second that she knows that the Kashmiri's are back in town.

An Indian Fairy Tale

Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess who lived in one of the wealthiest kingdoms in Rajasthan. This princess was spied one day by the witchcraft person who fell in love with her. She, however, was not interested in him. One day the princess’s maid bought some special oils for the princess. On the way home from the market, the witchcraft person put a spell on the oils and whoever used the oils would fall in love with the witchcraft person. (This is where the story gets confusing because two people were telling it.) Somehow the maid found out about the spell. No, no, no. Somehow the princess found out about the spell. Somebody found out about the spell and just before the beautiful princess was to be bathed in oil, all of the oil was thrown on to a rock. The rock then fell in love with the witchcraft person and threw itself onto him, killing him. (Really? You think this is where it ends?)

Then, with his dying breath, the witchcraft person put a curse on the entire village. A few days later a neighboring rival kingdom laid siege to the princess’s kingdom, soon after everyone died and the village has been ruined and abandoned ever since.

Take that, Hollywood!

Me and Mr. Shiv

Mr. Shiv, Mr. Shiv, Mr. Shi-iv. We got a thing going on…

I have a crush on Mr. Shiv. (I also have a crush on the god Vishnu, but he’s immortal and has LOTS of girlfriends, so he’s probably not the man for me.) I took a big chance. I knew I was going to be in India for almost three months, that the weather would go from seriously hot to almost freezing, and that I had only one suitcase to accommodate my needs for this three month period. Yet, I did it anyway. I brought with me a) my faded blue and white flowered dress (that many of you know), b) my (formerly) white eyelet blouse, and c) a shredding pair of brown trousers no longer suitable for use in public settings. I did it in the hopes of finding a tailor who could recreate these beloved items in the fabrics of India. Mr. Shiv did not disappoint.

Not only is Mr. Shiv a tailor extraordinaire, he also comes to my office to pick up and deliver my new wardrobe. Often on a Monday morning, I can be found twirling around in my new clothes, to the great amusement of my fellow office mates. Everyone waits breathlessly for the arrival of Mr. Shiv. Not to say that Mr. Shiv is without his faults. Mr. Shiv speaks almost no English, but he speaks the language of cloth and clothing. Mr. Shiv speaks an almost incomprehensible version of Hindi, according to my fellow epidemiologist, Raman, who serves as interpreter, to my undying appreciation. No one is quite sure where Mr. Shiv comes from, but everyone is sure of his talent.

I love it when risks pay off.

All of the Indian festivals are over...

So it's time for Christmas!!!

This wasn't in the shop on my way to work this morning, but boy was it there on my way home!!! And it's actually starting to get cold here! It's 70 degrees! That's about 20 degrees cooler than when I first got here. I'm beginning to be very glad I brought my cold weather clothes...

Ho ho ho!

Goodbye Hajipur…Hello Delhi!!!

I’m back in the big city and couldn’t be happier!! I love this town and the peace and tranquility afforded me by my 13 million neighbors—who use their horns much more sparingly than their neighbors to the east.

Ok, so it is true that I got out at the wrong exit of New Delhi train station metro stop (and I do mean wrong!), and was blind-sided by a fully laden bicycle going the wrong way on a very busy and scary to cross street. The good news is that traffic actually did come to a halt so that neither of us came to an untoward end. See what I mean? They really do care in Delhi!

In addition to reminding me that I DO need to look in all directions before crossing the street, my experience on the wrong side of the tracks provided me with a vista of the city I would have missed had I had the good sense to follow the crowd into the actual New Delhi train station. But you know me, I almost never follow the crowd. Once again I experienced the absolute kindness and friendliness of the people of Delhi. I am sad to admit that I have spent a great deal of my time in this fair city utterly and hopelessly lost, as well as unable to find a way to cross the six lane highways that regularly traverse this town. Even on the wrong side of the tracks, or rather my more usual experience, especially on the wrong side of the tracks, people find a way to communicate to me in the mix of Hindi and English that I too am picking up and set me on my merry way—almost always in the right direction.

Why do I love Delhi? Let me count the ways with some pictures of a brief journey that took me through the stone cutters quarters to the spice markets, the vegetable markets and beyond.

A walk through Hajipur

You’ve heard the noise, now see the sights!

A quick FYI, the BBC did an analysis of the region for those of you who want to know a little bit more about what it is to be the poorest state in India...

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-south-asia-11759959