Busy and safe

I know that I am too far behind in reporting on our adventures to continue to consider myself a blogger.  Good thing C is up to the task.

I am unimaginably busy trying to catch up on months of lost time, now that the project is finally moving along and my deadline approaches much too soon.  In addition, power cuts are much more frequent lately, sometimes lasting most of the day and night.  (We have our lovely battery to run a fan, but it's not enough for the computer or much else.)

This quick check in is to reassure anyone who has seen the news of yesterday's train collision in West Bengal, that we are entirely uninvolved.  This is another heart-breaking tragedy.  Currently, it seems that it is entirely coincidental that it took place in West Bengal, and sabotage is not suspected.

Thousands of trains run all over India without incident.  It's a wonderful system parts of which the US might do well to copy.  As we all know, the more trains, the more opportunity for error.  I am saddened, but not frightened.

For any of you who have insomnia and recognize this post from C's blog, I mistakenly posted to hers.

Healthy, damp & trying hard to get things done

We're better and back at it.  Silly to think we'd last six months without some illness.  At home we rarely go so long without something.  All fine now.  And it's raining!

I've been impossibly busy lately, though much time is spent in less-than-satisfying endeavors.  No complaints tonight, though.  Here's a list (PowerPoint style - and you know I hate that) because it's late and the electricity is likely to shut down any moment.

[At another time, I will try to upload some photos to illustrate all this.]

• C had her first day of school today at Patha Bhavana (Wikipedia).

• I inaugurated a rural library and was treated like a rock star (no kidding).

• We saw the most beautiful temple (though I'm told there is a twin) in Kalna,
• Worked in several more villages,
• Took photos,
• Lost photos,
• Spent the night at the Buddhist Center in Kolkata, and
• Missed another train.

• I worked on my chapati and egg-roll techniques (improving, but far from ideal).

• Our flat was transformed for a day into a film stage.

• C had her debut as a film actor in our friend, Shamayal's, video.

• [Shamayal also showed us how to cut glass with kerosene.  Do not try this at home.]

• We met more people
• Including some who are both encouraging and really helpful.

• I finally discovered how to get the newspaper delivered (by meeting the delivery man early one morning when my interpreter didn't show) and
• Built a holder to protect the paper when neither Rono (the caretaker) nor I are there on rainy mornings.  (Unlike at home where my paper completely dissolves some days, here he won't deliver if it'll get wet.)

• Twice we used our amazing first-aid kit from Aunt Linda to dress wounds (other peoples', not ours).

• We counted cows,
• Bought souvenirs,
• Drank lots of tea,
• Ate many of mangos, 
• Picked limes from a tree outside our rooms,
• Cooked (and ate) many kilos of okra, and
• More grilled cheese sandwiches than I should admit.

• My fingernails are always dirty moments after I bathe and I still haven't a clue how it happens.

• I'm getting better at eating rice with my hand.  (C is a natural.)

• My Bengali is terrible, though I know many food words.

• I made people laugh, and
• Made others look like "Movie Stars" (in their portraits).

• I practiced wearing a sari,
• Saw more of my equipment break or fail,
• Made peace with rickshaw drivers (beginning a small photography project with some of them), and
• Grew more comfortable with lizards (though snakes are out of the question).

• I photographed in my first Muslim village and, after an uncertain start, was unexpectedly well receive

• My hair is perpetually damp.  (And though I know it won't help its health, some of those garden limes are used to address resulting problems).

• I miss home.  I miss all of you.  I also want to make the most of the time I have left.  I lost so much time with all the problems early on (and, no, I haven't written here of all of them).  Now, things are moving...  or they were...  While we are all happy that monsoon is here, it means that my work will be further frustrated.  No free lunch, eh?  (Or is it, 'no free monsoon'?)

Psssst.  On that running nose thing a while back:  We did use hankies, but only in secret.  I fear everyone we know here would be thoroughly disgusted.

Monsoon

Finally, it's raining!  Yesterday morning was our first daytime rain and it was a big one.  Everything's damp, muddy, humid... and great!

Post from June 22nd

You've probably already seen this one...
Accidentally deleted.  Now back.

June 21st was a great day.  Odd, but great.  I told myself that if I got a break, I'd write about it.  Well, I didn't get one yet, so I'm cutting an pasting from a letter I wrote to B && L about it.  Tacky, I know, but it was such a great day...

Celia and I went with Central Library Deputy Library to his hometown and then to a rural library where he and I were invited to inaugurate the new Tagore Reading Room.  I was to prepare a speech, wear white, and bring a camera.

We saw the sights of a small city between here and Kolkata, ate a great meal and were treated like VIPs throughout.  The city we visited is called Kolna.  It has all the sites of a typical small Indian city plus an amazing amount of history.  My favorite site: the most beautiful temple.  I would happily have stayed there all day (though my feet would have been less so as walking barefoot on the too-well-sun-heated grounds was tough).

In Kolna, we met my colleague's family, the newly-elected Chairman (mayor equivalent?), and many other citizens.

The Library 'inauguration' was very strange.  C said my speech wasn't  very good, which I expected since there was great commotion while I was at the microphone and I kept losing my focus.  On the other hand, the man who read the translation (which was only vaguely what I had written - more on that at another time) was a very dramatic reader and seemed to have everyone's attention.

After the program, they presented me with a photograph of Tagore and many thanks.  Then, to my surprise, we left before the program was over.  Good thing, since we had a very long drive, but it seemed rude.  Even so, while I was trying to figure out what I was supposed to do, I failed to notice the program being interrupted to give us a standing ovation and the audience, dignitaries, etc. waved to us, wide eyed, as we left, crossing the front of the stage in what, again, seemed to me very poor manners.  (I kept looking over my shoulder to see if some prince was behind us causing all the commotion.  But no, it was just us.)  Then, to make things even more rock-star like, a huge crowd followed us to our car and once I shook one man's hand at least 30 others crowded in to shake my hand as well.

Once in the vehicle (a big SUV) one man I'd met earlier asked for a business card (very popular here) so I fished one out.  Immediately, several others I'd met during the day crowded windows on both sides asking for them.  (Everyone I gave a card to seemed unusually pleased with it.  Fortunately, I'd brought a pile, knowing I would be introduced around.)  After I'd given cards to the men I recognized, all windows became filled with new faces asking for cards, shaking hands and showing such appreciation you'd think I was passing out cash.  The car was swarmed by well-wishers and card seekers, so I finally gave one of the men the whole pile to pass out later.  Made his day.  Who do they think I am?!

Celia's reception was equally adoring, but more individual.  Again (this has happened before), a lovely grandmother (really great grandmother) offered for Celia to live with her because C is so beautiful, an angel, a princess.  This one also offered to go back home with her to take care of her.  I suggested that I would stay on the farm with her daughter (grandmother) in exchange.  Everyone laughed, then hugged us and acted as if we'd both broken their hearts by not staying longer and blessed them just by being there.  When we said we planned to return with the whole family in August, clasped hands jumped to hearts as if we'd awarded a great prize.

Though the intense, and undeserved, admiration/affection makes me a bit uncomfortable, I found that I felt an unreasonable level of affection for many of the people (generally women) I barely know.  This has happened to me before here, that I feel very close to someone I've only just met.  I suppose some of it is simply a reaction to Indian warmth and hospitality, and may be even more so as we are often treated as special guests.  Sometimes these women remind me of Bea or Jane or Grandma, or any of the group of women who have been so important - and so thoroughly supportive - throughout my life.   I can't explain it.  Not looks and definitely not conversation since the language problem is major.  Just warmth, humor, I don't know... 

Maybe I'm a little homesick?