More Mysore
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
borgeouis guilt and shame
We have decided to poison our cleaning lady. She has taken over our lives and intruded on our peace of mind and our toilets. She rats on us to the landlord so the landlord comes up to check on us and see what transgressions have ensued AGAIN. SHe told the landlord that I set a fire in the apartment because I scorched the teapot THAT BELONGS TO ME and she decided that it had a lea so she threw it in the bin??? (No leak, OK? Landlord freaked, came up to apartment twice this afternoon with the cleaning lady to inspect the teapot.) Mind you the scorching happened three weeks ago and she just decided it was time to cause trouble today, apparently. She moves things that she doesn't want to touch and throws them way up on the top shelf so we can't reach them and put them back where we want them. For example, after the second drama about the soiled tissue having been (maliciously?) deposited in the red plastic bucket in my bathroom, we were ordered to purchase a trash can with a CLOSING top and PROPER plastic bin liners We bought these things. Now she wisks them away every day even when they are completely EMPTY and leaves the bin with no liner so we have to replace it. Since India is experiencing a national pollution crisis with piles of discarded plastic items of all types including used diapers and oodles of empty plastic bin liners, we started recycling the plastic bags we get from the food shop. But NO! Our bag of second-hand plastic bags was thrown up to the highest reaches of our kitchen. So we have to retrieve it or purchase MORE of the preferred proper bin liners so she can subsequently toss them out on the street corner five minutes later. And we do this EVERY day, all just for her. Because we don't care if a dirty tissue lies dormant in the lid-closing, properly lined trash bin for more than 24 hours. I know it seems unclean. One of the other really fun things is that she only arrives to clean when you lie down for a nap. She is supposed to come at 12 every day, but we don't want her every day. We asked, three times a week. "No problem." "Monday, Weds. and Friday, OK? No diert to clean every day! OK? Thank you very much. Also no remove clean bin liners, OK? Too much plastic on the corners. Black bags too expensive, OK?" "Yes, OK, fine no problem!" EVERY DAY SHE COMES. EVERY DAY SHE THROWS AWAY OUR BIN LINERS.
I will also now bore you with the toilet backing up problem I had from accidentally flushing tp down the western/indian toilet. For three days, it lay rotting, fetid, smelly disgusting, in the toilet (thankfully it never actually overflowed). This is because they DON'T HAVE PLUNGERS in India, they have UNTOUCHABLE SCAVENGER PEOPLE to do this sort of work. The cleaning lady, of course, told my landlord that the toilet was backed up, and he told me that they have no plungers because "here, we just use our hands, to just unblock it, no problem." NO way. Nobody is using their hands in my toilet to unblock anything, OK? I draw the line here. I'm willing to play along with all of your weird cleaning games and your strange caste system and the rock-throwing at the dogs rituals, but I draw the line here, OK? But it's not just ANY hands. It is the hands of the appointed, the choosen, the selected few upon whom this sacred ritual is appointed. I finally found what resembled a plunger, which is actually an instrument used to unblock SINKS, and brought it home. I told my landlord, no problem, the toilet will be fixed in a few minutes, just let me go up and plunge away. He said, "don't worry, if you can't get it, I will bring up the little scavenger girl who comes everyday to root through our garbage. She can put her hand down and unblock it." "Oh, geez, that's OK, really." I managed to plunge it free in about three seconds flat and nobody had to put their arms down my toilet after all. However, the next morning, my landlord showed up at our door with the little seven year old scavenger girl offering her to stick her hand down my toilet. "Oh, no thanks, really. Toilet is all set. Thanks! Really! No Problem anyway!" I was sorry to disappoint, but I draw the line, you know? I'm just not going there.
Now we just have to find a way to gaslight the cleaning lady who rules our lives Indian style, and will no longer. She will not touch anything dirty. I'm thinking she might want to consider another career? OR she is having too much fun torturing us. Then, after being shamed for my uncleanliness, I went to eat at the Green leaf and admired the dirty, grimy slimy filthy crap all over the front of the waiters jackets. What IS that shit?
6:46 am edt
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
finally photos
So I have finally got some photos together here. I would like to say that I’ve been really busy but I don’t think that will fly. I’ve just been really busy. I hope the photos fit – I think there will be captions at the bottoms of them so you can see what they are. I just got back from Bangalore where I had to go deal with APPLE INDIA because my cd/dvd drive decided to quit working so I “have� to get it replaced. We went to the Oberoi Hotel for dinner and it was really fabulous Thai food in a beautiful atmosphere in the back gardens of the hotel.
Even though the obvious impression is that western culture is consumer driven, commercial and materialistic, and India is not, one cannot go ANYWHERE (that I know of) in India without being constantly faced with people trying to sell you things by literally shoving them in your face, following you for blocks right on your heels and chattering in your sholder, or just plain blocking your path shoving crap in your face. IN Bangalore, they have an army of teenage boys who have wooden snakes and little backgammon games and they run after you shouting “snake? backgammon? madame? yes, hello? madame? snake? backgammon? hello, yes? good for travel? (why is a wooden snake good for travel?) You can’t say “no� You can’t say anything or they bother you even more. If you try to talk to me when I come home and I don’t answer you please understand it is not personal. It will just take a few weeks for me to re-adjust my attention sensitivity levels.
When I am in a shop, I generally like to take my time and look around, but you are simply not allowed to do that here. It is totally and utterly out of the question. If I go in a fabric or sari shop, which is rare and only at the shops that either other yoga students or my landlady has recommended, I am immediately surrounded by not one or two men, but sometimes three or four, all around me, and practically forced to sit down. Then I am trapped and two more men start laying out sari after sari or whatever it is they want to show me and usually they have utterly hideous taste. And I came in to look at fabric, but I leave before I get what I want because I am so battered by the ugly sari offensive so I have to escape and regroup.
This morning I was looking for a pair of sandals and I walked into a shoe shop in Bangalore that was about the size of my bedroom at home, and there were no less that five grown men who jumped up and lost their minds shoving every pair of the most hideous shoes in my face, “madam, these come in every color…. madam, lovely Indian style, you take… madam, boots here for sale (boots? it’s 90 degrees out, is there a snow storm coming?)… madame, you like with heel? flat?� “No, those are ugly� I say, “thanks anyway.� and walk out. Just back off for the love of god!
9:45 am edt
Sunday, June 12, 2005
there really are things I like about India
Some things are really cool. I love the animals just roaming around doing whatever they want. In the middle of the city, in the roads, on the sidewalks. Imagine walking in a busy downtown area crowded with people and then there is a cow. Or a pig and her litter (what do you call a litter of pigs other than "cute"?)
More yoga types are arriving daily as expected. The room is getting more and more crowded. Also as expected things are getting very much like junior high school, including me breaking out and having all the wrong clothes to fit in with the cool crowd. As usual I am the dork in the drama club. And it is actually true because we are going to be doing some play readings and performance nights at one of the regular hang-out's for breakfast and stuff.
Our cleaning lady apparently had a major freak out the other day wile my roommate was home and I was not. We were told by the landlord not to flush paper down the toilet and to use the trash bin. No problem. In my bathroom there is a red plastic bucket sitting there so I used that for a couple of days. The next day the cleaning lady went in the bathroom to "clean" and saw the used toilet paper and started freaking out saying "NO! BLACK! NO! BLACK! BLACK!" pointing frantically at the red bucket - to my confused roommate. Then, she ran to get the landlady who came up and also turned to my roommate in urgent distress, "No you must, Black! Black!" Eventually with the use of hand gestures, Tara was able to learn that they wanted me to put the toilet paper into a trash bin lined with the black trash bag liners we have in the kitchen. It turns out that the red bucket is used for cleaning the floor (even though it has never been used to my knowledge for anything) and the fact that I had dirtied it with my used toilet paper was so horrifying to our cleaning lady she was almost in tears. Also, I learned that she does not clean the toilet either. (beware this is gross) Our toilets are generally filthy and I asked the landlady if they were getting cleaned and she said "special, special." So what all this means is that our cleaning lady is not the lowest, shit-dealing caste that is assigned to deal with peoples excremental activities. She is the servant caste, but she is one notch above the toilet cleaning caste who also usually have their own entrance to the house so they won't sully up the fancy people's areas. She will NOT clean our toilets, and she will NOT dispose of the used toilet paper. OK fine, I didn't known these rules and how was I supposed to know that the red bucket was not a trash bucket? I went out and bought a little covered trash bin (It has to be covered) and everything seems to have settled down now except we have to hide clothes that we dont want scrubbed to threadbareness and beaten on the side of the stone sink out back.
I now have three tailors across town employed sewing gorgeous salwar kameez and skirts and such for me. I was warned that Indian women will snicker at me when I wear my new clothes on the street because I have unknowingly used material that is used to make sari tops for improper use. They will think this is very funny and I am not to be alarmed if I see Indian women whispering, laughing and pointing at me. Thank goodness for the generosity of the more experienced yogis helping me out. I might have mistaken the attention for friendly appreciation. Actually, I am very grateful for the advice I am getting. I would be riduculously lost without it.
6:21 am edt
Thursday, June 9, 2005
new rules
Because there are so many people in India, and so many people are willing to work for very little money, you can almost never purchase an item that is actually assembled. You have to buy the parts and then hire someone to put them all together. For instance, if you want to buy a mattress, you go to the mattress place, but all they have are foam slabs. You have to go to a seperate place to purchase material to cover the mattress, then go somewhere where they sew the cover and maybe even somewhere else where they cover the foam.
If you want to purchase SHEETS and PILLOWCOVERS for your new MATTRESS and PILLOW, you go to the textiles shop where they sew mattress covers and stuff, and they say, oh, you have to go to the fabric shop and purchase material for the sheets and pillowcases, then I will sew them together for you. If you ask for an item in a store, generally every store claims to have the item, then they send boy out on a bike who rides to a mystery location where the items are actually available, rides his bike back with the item (usually something like toothpaste, for example) and in the mean time the shop owner has offered you a seat and served you chai or something, fifteen miraculous minutes later, your toothpaste arrives.
Also, even in the nicest neithborhoods, there is no such thing as trash collection. It gets taken by the beggars and also strewn all over the street corners and empty lots where it is foraged through by the pig families, the cows, the goats and the dogs and cats, and the poor people. Every morning a beggar family comes by and asks permission to take our garbage. It really is remarkable that no one seems to care. It seems that half of India lives on plastic shopping bags. But I have to say that given these circumstances, there is very little trash considering the number of houses that throw stuff away becuase most of it gets eaten by the varios life forms that patrol the streets. Everybody has a job here. I still can't bring my self to throw trash in the piles on the streets.
I'm looking forward to tomorrow when the hermaphrodites come to town.
10:13 am edt
new rules
Because there are so many people in India, and so many people are willing to work for very little money, you can almost never purchase an item that is actually assembled. You have to buy the parts and then hire someone to put them all together. For instance, if you want to buy a mattress, you go to the mattress place, but all they have are foam slabs. You have to go to a seperate place to purchase material to cover the mattress, then go somewhere where they sew the cover and maybe even somewhere else where they cover the foam.
If you want to purchase SHEETS and PILLOWCOVERS for your new MATTRESS and PILLOW, you go to the textiles shop where they sew mattress covers and stuff, and they say, oh, you have to go to the fabric shop and purchase material for the sheets and pillowcases, then I will sew them together for you. If you ask for an item in a store, generally every store claims to have the item, then they send boy out on a bike who rides to a mystery location where the items are actually available, rides his bike back with the item (usually something like toothpaste, for example) and in the mean tijme the shop owner has offered you a seat and served you chai or something, fifteen miraculous minutes later, your toothpast arrives.
Also, even in the nicest neithborhoods, there is no such thing as trash collection. It gets taken by the beggars and also strewn all over the street corners and empty lots where it is foraged through by the pig families, the cows, the goats and the dogs and cats, and the poor people. Every morning a beggar family comes by and asks permission to take our garbage. It really is remarkable that no one seems to care. But I have to say that given these circumstances, there is very little trash considering the number of houses that throw stuff away becuase most of it gets eaten by the varios life forms that patrol the streets. Everybody has a job here. I still can't bring my self to throw trash in the piles on the streets.
10:08 am edt
rickshaw accident!
My rickshaw driver rear ended another rickshaw, and they had a yelling match in the street right in the busiest part of downtown Mysore. Everyone was staring. I put a bag over my head. On the way home I saw a film crew shooting a scene. I knew there were cameras rolling somewhere.
9:33 am edt
india is trying to kill me
Big tropical storm here the other night 7-8:30 pm. Many trees and power lines down. Hail and a 30-40 degree temperature drop in 10 minutes. Bad flooding and torrential rain 60-80 mph winds. I was caught out in it at 7 pm on my little scooter driving home on the main thoroughfare from the hotel swimming pool where everyone hangs out in the afternoon. Water up to my ankles while driving - had to pull over, completely soaking through. What a nightmare in Indian traffic with floods and... I ended up huddled under a bus stop with about 40 people shivering to death getting pelted by rain and hail blowing in sideways for about 30 minutes. Then when it slowed, everyone ran for their scooters and drove fast all the way home. NO electricity till 5 pm today. Down in Gokulam town, the road was closed off for about a 1/2 mile becuase the trees were all down -and the electric wires were all over the streets. Where my house is it wassn't so bad, but very loud bangs! during the night - I thought it was cujo the demon dog (lives up the street)coming after me because I was all alone in the house. It turned out to be coconuts falling on the side house that were loosened by the storm. Lets just say I was lucky to make it home without getting "coconutted" in the head. Slept 11 hours then found bedbug bites all over my leg. Today I moved the mattresses out and went shopping for a new mattress but everywhere was closed because of the no electricity.
9:30 am edt
Friday, June 3, 2005
warning, parasites discussed
It is really hard getting adjusted here. Just buying a towel is like writing a research paper. There are no Linen's and Things, you know what I mean? I (everyone has) have a cleaning lady who comes every day and scrubs everything even though nothing gets used. It is a very odd thing but I can get used to it. It is still pretty hot here and I wish more rain will come sooner. The heat is getting to me. Yoga at the shala starts on Tuesday. We have been practicing in the living rooom at a friend's house early every morning. I moved into my house yesterday. I can't get my laptop on line yet for some reason - it won't read the IP and router address but hopefully it will be sorted out soon. I am going to pick up my cell phone right now on my scooter that I tool around on. I might have to dodge a few cows sleeping in the middle of the road and some pigs and dogs and stuff. There are some pretty horrifying things I have had to dodge like lepers in the doorway of the bookstore covered with flies, I'll spare you the details. The conversations around here with the yogi types/bodyworkers/artists/yoga teachers who come to India 1/2 the year ionevitably turns to parasites. I am now convinced I have a tapeworm or some other kinds of disgusting worms from eating sushi. I am going to this great Ayurvedic Doc soon (who will tell me if I have worms or NOT) and getting a full western medical work up including MRI and just everything for about 20 american dollars soon at this really great hospital. I started getting Rolfed this morning. If you don't know what it is you can look it up but you probably know. I gotta go and shower off and eat dinner. A meeting would be good right about now. It's insane here, and really difficult to get adjusted for everybody. Apparently if someone (an Indian) asks you if you like Frank Zappa, it really means "Do you want to buy some weed?" I would come home so fast if it weren't for the Pattabhi Jois fellow who is in Bangalore right now probably buying more gold with the tuition I paid him.
8:34 am edt
Wednesday, June 1, 2005
"dazzling lights prohibited"
I was sad to see that this is in fact the case at the KR circle in Mysore (photo forthcoming) since I arrived with dazzling lights. I have had to quell the dazzle a bit since you can get a "reprimand" and possibly a ticket for said offense. And we all know what Indian jails are like. I hope the Mysore trannie knows about this rule. Several driving schools we walked by in Mysore on one street are sorely lacking students (all three completely empty, one actually boarded up) and the "traffic conductors" go largely ignored by the swarms of rickshaws, scooters, motorbikes, buses and pedestrians that race around the several motor circles that employ the uniformed gents. I suppose the fact that they wear white gloves and hats with brims and tassles makes it more ridiculous that no one pays any attention to them in the slightest while they go on waving and halting, waving and halting from their thrones in the middle of the circles. If you get dizzy and the traffic circle looks like more than you can handle, you can pull over and imbibe at the coconut stand till you replenish enough energy to continue on through the traffic. OR... you can just walk up the sidewalk across from Loyal World market and buy a lottery ticket from one of the lottery wallahs lines up on the sidewalk and attract a crowd of thirty or so men who are amazed to see a woman engage in this "gents only" recreation. I gave the ticket (valued at ten rupees) to a friend who is having a birthday. Now she has to go down to the lottery row and find out if she won.
More and more non-Indian people are arriving every day and going over to pay Pattabhi all their money and taking up space at the internet spots which could become a serious problem. I may have to switch their water and put them out of commission for a few weeks
Pattabhi was decked out in his bling bling yesterday like I've never seen before. He must have gone to the bling store since I saw him last. From now on he's Huggy Bear Jois to me. It's not a cult though.
And yes, I will be getting a bloody cell phone after all. "You having phone? I can call and tell when water is coming." With a sim card and I can use it everywhere out of the US, every time I leave the US which will be sooner rather than later if Jeb Bush comes anywhere near the white house.
And who are the extra men that hang around all the shops and banks and coconut stands and stuff who stare at you while you buy whatever you are buying? Hello, hello, smiling nicely. Do they work somewhere? Do they work there? Does someone know them? What are they doing? It seems like there are a lot of extra men in India. Something to think about. Off for another dazzling night with my dazzling lights a-glow. I hope I don't get arrested.
11:51 am edt