As
I mentioned, my first stop in Tamil Nadu was Udhagamandalam (Ooty). I had been
really looking forward to the old steam locomotive (narrow gauge cog railway)
more than Ooty itself. But as it turned out, I loved Ooty. First of all, the
tourist were overwhelmingly Indian tourists, rather than European, which was a
nice change. As a result, there were none of the usual touts and aggressive
shop keepers yelling for you to come into their shop. "Hello friend!"
Most seemed to come from Chennai and many seem to be young men or boys. Of
those, most now have a photo of me on their dresser. I don't know how I will
manage back in the United States (or even in Bombay or Delhi) without the
attention I've come to expect. No one ever asks to have their photo taken with
me back home, let alone hundreds a day.
The
other day, I was walking down the narrow Bazaar Road in Ooty and an Indian boy
came up behind me.
Excuse
me.
Yes?
Would you like a photo?
No.
You dropped your hat.
Oh.
Ha ha. Of course I did. Thank you.
Oops.
In
Ooty, where I was especially popular, I was wearing western clothing, since the
climate was cool. So I wore jeans and a tank top. Apparently the boys liked my
body and had many questions about working out and diet. It was quite sweet,
really.
On
my last night, walking home to my guest house, four boys came running out of
the guest house next door to ask for a photo. They were probably 20 years old.
The one who spoke English said that they had seen me the day before and that
his brother (he pointed) was a novice body builder. He clearly loved his
brother and wanted to help him. I posed with my arm around all four boys and
then I spoke to them about lifting weights and doing cardio and about healthy
vegetarian eating and the importance of getting protein, like dal and rice in
your diet. They were very sweet and invited me to come drink with them in their
room later.
 |
| Gary modeling aforementioned top......... (but holding what?) |
On
my way to dinner, I stopped by, but there was no sign of them. After dinner I
saw the English speaking boy outside and so I popped into my room and grabbed
my Mussel Beach tank top, which I had washed the previous day, and went over. I
asked him if his brother was in. He said yes and asked me to follow him. On the
way, he admitted that they had been drinking and the other three were already
I'm bed. We went into the room and the three boys were squeezed into one bed,
with a few inches left for the fourth, and watching tv. The English speaker
yelled at his brother to stand up and I gave him the tank top. The three in bed
were shocked and their mouths fell open, while the older brother (English
speaker) fell to the floor, prostrated himself, grabbed my hand and put it
against his forehead and expressed his extreme gratitude and asked how in the
world he could repay me. I briefly glanced at the three boys in bed and
politely excused myself. Very sweet.
The
next morning, after breakfast, I took my last walk into town with the goal of
finding a newspaper and a cup of real coffee. My jeans were quite loose by now.
(I'm considering writing a weight loss guide, "The Dysentery Diet") I
had noticed the previous many shops in the bazaar selling coconut coir rope, so
I figured I would try and buy a meter of rope to tie around my petite waist.
Near the train station, I saw a cart selling junk, including 2 meter lengths of
thick twine (I guess for tying packages before getting on the train). This was
thinner than I had in mind, but I was here so I asked the price. He said 150
rupis ($3), which I thought was crazy, so I kept walking. Walking through the
bazaar, none of the rope shops were open, as it was a Sunday morning. After 30
minutes of walking, I spotted a length of thick rope on the ground, next to the
busy road. Now, I was quite aware that 37 types of animals (human and
otherwise) had likely pooped on this rope, but I picked it up anyway and ran it
through belt loops and tied it in a bow. Now, I imagine that you may find this
repulsive, as I might have a month ago, but it was so obvious to me in the
moment that this was a gift from Lord Gamesha (maybe even from Lakshmi
herself, as I was now 150 rupis richer).
By
the way, the rope only served to make even more popular with the boys, who
wanted even more photos with me that morning.
I
should say a word about the drivers in Tamil Nadu. The word is INSANE. The
drivers here make drivers in the rest of India calm, careful and law-abiding.
Wow. It is so scary!!! They all drive so aggressively. They drive their
motorcycles (no helmets) right into busy intersections without slowing down.
Everyone uses his horn constantly (which makes everyone's horn useless) and
everyone wants to pass everyone else. I love to walk in a new place. I find
this the best way to see a town or city and to interact with people. In Tamil
Nadu walking is treacherous. There are pavements (sidewalks) everywhere, but
without exception they have all been made completely unusable with huge piles
of debris, missing paving, sleeping homeless people, sleeping goats or horses
or cows, and other hazards. When none of these inconveniences exist naturally,
the residents place metal barriers to block passage. As a result, (or perhaps
it's the other way round) everyone walks in the road. This causes even more
havoc, as off the cars, motorcycles, cows, darting dogs, and goats weren't
enough to cope with...
The
other day, as I was walking along the busy road in Ooty, trying to observe the
spirit of street life that is so vibrant, but mainly watching the trucks and
scooters coming rushing toward me and from behind me, nearly hitting me
multiple times... All of a sudden, from an unpaved alley, came two guys,
pushing a hand cart (one guy on either side) loaded with 12 meter (30 feet)
flat iron bars sticking out front and back. They pushed the bars right into
traffic without slowing down. It just so happened that I was walking in the
road at that instant. I walked right into the bars at shin level. To their
credit, the two guys had been yelling to warn me, but with EVERYONE yelling,
how was I supposed to hear them??? Ouch.
So
with my fancy new poop-covered rope belt, I boarded the toy train for the ride
back down the mountain.
नमस्ते
P.S. Editor's Note: Gary stayed in my London Apartment prior to this trip and naturally read everything he could find (Gary nosey? Never!!) And so he sent me this separate email that I thought I would share.
I've been working my way through "things to do before you die" from the book in your flat. Today was "Sri Ganesa Bhawan: banana-leaf lunch in Chidambaram (in shadow of Nataranja Temple)"
I didn't realize that it would be the LAST thing I do before I die!!
I'm pretty sure that's water from the Ganges. And I had to eat with the hand that's been touching thousand year old statues and accepting cow poo from Hindu Brahman priests all morning.
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