Poo Poo

A reader who has been to third world countries has been keeping up on my blog. In correspondence she has mentioned that there are things I have left out of the descriptions of my travels. One of these things is the peculiar odor one encounters when walking the streets of just about any city. To me it is no longer a ghastly surprise whenever I see a man turned, back toward the street, urinating. In public. I mean when you gotta go you gotta go. And so they do. While this is the easiest to accept for me it does not stop there. Yesterday I saw a baby squatting in the street. Diapers must be used little if at all in some places here and besides the bovine excrement one must also strive to avoid the human piles as well.

Yesterday, as if mocking the poo poo gods, I purchased my first pair of Indian sandals. My white leather tennies have been through enough and I have ample room in my luggage now that I can effectively tote them safely home. I have toyed with the idea of giving them away to someone in more need of them than I. But if the poor unfortunate to whom they are bequeathed ever enters a temple (or cybercafe) where one is required to remove their shoes he had best be prepared to spend a good amount of time to do so. Frankly I passed up a visit to the Monkey Temple in Agra simply because I was so tired of having to take my shoes off everywhere I went. Half my vacation has been spent untying, removing, replacing and then retying my bloody American shoes. Damn the poo poo gods, I'm wearing sandals from now on!

The people here seem to be much more kind and open in general. I took a short walk around the block yesterday to buy a few items (sandals, batteries, popcorn) and encountered only friendly curious faces for the most part. Many smiles and some hellos. Tolerance seems more available here. Yesterday I had coffee at a curious spot called Lucky's. This was an open ended cafe with a tree growing up and out of the middle of it, snaking its way through the roof and toward the sky; its twisted trunk being assisted by man-made supports. That wasn't the odd part however. The odd part was the little bright green rectangular tombs ordered about in rows and cemented into the floor. Each tomb was fenced by white metal bars so the diners did not inadvertently walk on any one's remains. This was a Muslim graveyard. It was a Hindu cafe. Tolerance. Go figure.

I met a friend for some chai on the courtyard of the National Institute of Design here in Ahmedabad. The foliage covering and surrounding the campus makes it an oasis in the heart of the new city. The school is a buzz with talent and training students in nearly any creative field you can think of. My friend had studied animation there and is a talented artist and writer. She is a published children's illustrator and is currently working on another book project. I dropped off a Fresno Starbucks mug so maybe we'll see it in a kids book someday.

I am staying next to a cybercafe that seems to be having issues. Each time I went to see if it was working, it wasn't. For two days (so far). So I am currently typing in another one down the road and around the corner. The keyboard is functional but many of the letters are missing from the keys so my hunt-n-peck sensibilities are being severely taxed. Apologies for uncorrected typos. Today is Saturday February 16, about noon. I have passage to Mumbai booked for today's afternoon train so I shall sign out for now. See you in Mumbai!!