Once In A Lifetime

Stained Plates and Dirty Uniforms

4 May, 2008 · No Comments

At each Indian Coffeehouse it is the same. We marvel at how the food continues to taste good even when served on stained plates by waiters wearing dirty uniforms.

Our three-wheeler gets us to the main boat jetty just minutes before the 11:05 ferry to Mantancherry. The clouds hold their rain until after we walk all the way down Bazaar Road, which is lined with side-by-side dilapidated tea, rice, and spice wholesalers. The road is clogged with goats, bicycles, trucks, cars, taxis, three-wheelers, and pedestrians. We pass several small Catholic churches, including Mary of the Small Flower.

Cochin to Mantancherry Map

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We hear the rain pelting down from inside the dimly lit museum at the Dutch Palace. A self-appointed guide attaches himself to us for half of the rooms, his half-intelligible English a source of mild amusement for me. The famed murals are in need of restoration and are barely discernable in the glare of the poorly placed fluorescent lights. Gods emerge from lotus flowers growing out of bellybuttons, gods sit on peacocks and coiled cobras, bare-breasted maidens hold oil lamps. Elephant-fish, man-fish, and stingrays swim in a transparent sea. Gods with eight arms, three heads, and one-thousand-and-one eyes grace the former king and queen’s room. The detail is beautiful and intricate, too much to fully appreciate in a short visit. I keep imagining myself drawing a small section, but the lighting is never right, or there is nowhere to sit, or I don’t have my paper and pencils. Mostly it stays just a daydream because I don’t’ have the will to give it the time and energy it would require to create a worthy likeness.

Our “guide” is not happy with our contribution, quipping back immediately, “Very small.” He stands beside us in silence. I don’t give anymore. I am tired of friendliness giving way to indebtedness.

We eat a Thali lunch at a vegetarian restaurant and take a three-wheeler to St. Francis Church. It has only three simple tri-colored stained glass windows, and is disappointing in that sense, but how many churches can boast the original resting place of Vasco De Gama? If I ever knew that he had died in India, I had forgotten it long ago. He landed in Kochin in 1502 after a five year journey from Portugal, and died in Kochin on Christmas Eve in 1523. After fourteen years at St. Francis, his remains were removed to his homeland.

We walk to the bay and marvel at the huge blue Chinese fishing nets lining both shores. It takes six men to pull the ropes holding the two dozen boulder anchor weights past the balance point which keeps the nets submerged. Slowly, slowly the boulders are lowered and the wooden poles emerge, followed by the nets. It is a quiet, delicate balancing act.

We catch the 3:15 return ferry at 3:45. A visit to the Tourist Information Office is futile. Long lines prevent us from securing a reservation on an air conditioned train car for the journey to Calicut tomorrow.

Back at the hotel we call my mother in Ohio to tell her we are in India. “Oh my God!” comes her startled reply. No matter where I call from, the response is the same: “Insert name of country here, Oh my God!” Her news is that she has fallen at a fast food restaurant and broken her nose, and that she has lost her job.

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Intentional Decrease in Posts

26 April, 2008 · 1 Comment

Hi All,

Just wanted to let you all know that I am going to be posting less often. There are just too many spring projects to accomplish, such as gardening, sewing, hiking, and more!

I will be adding more Twitter tweets and also learning about social networking.  I want to see what all the fuss is about.  So if you have some time to burn up, you might just find me at FaceBook and who knows where else?  New ones are getting created even as I blog!

Thanks to all of you who read. It is fun to blog and learn more about blogging.

Diane

Editing to add banner photo notes: taken in 1958 in our new subdivision neighborhood. I am the curmudgeon on the left.

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We Need You To Helpful

23 April, 2008 · No Comments

January 11th, 1995
Today I receive a letter from Chaiya. It is straight to the point: send us money now! When I convert the Thai money to dollars, I am shocked. He is asking for $3000 for full scholarships for he and Songkram. It is a full expense report, including food, clothing, housing, transportation, and books for a complete year. I’m sure it took him a long time to do all the calculations.

Not one time in the letter does he ask if I could please send some money to help with school expenses, rather he states it various ways, such as:”We need you to be a patronize,” and “We need you to helpful,” and “So we need you give a scholarship for us.” The whole tone of the letter is so demanding, it sounds so arrogant. I let the letter sit on my messy desk for a few weeks before I answer.

I send a short letter back, saying I will not be their sponsor, because I am not the rich American woman they think I am. When I look at the picture of Songkram in his new glasses, I am pleased that I did make a small direct contribution while I was there.

January 15th, 1995
Today I am finishing my raw notes from my memories of the ten day trip to Thailand, all the while racing time, trying to capture feelings and impressions before the freshness slips away. I put on my “Mr. Mos” cassette tape and am instantly transported back to Chaiya’s village, dancing with smiling junior high school students on the dirt ground. When I gaze up at the clear night sky, the sheer number of stars is overwhelming. The students stare at me staring at the sky, laughing at me enjoying the starry, starry night. Scholarship Demand Letter from Chaiya Jan 2005

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Collect Call From Thailand

22 April, 2008 · No Comments

January 2nd, 1995
At noon today I receive a collect phone call from Thailand from - guess who - Chaiya. He is a wise young man in some ways, naive in others. He knows human psychology, knows that my heart is still in Thailand, and that the emotional hold Songkram has on me will die soon.

I accept the charges without thinking of the cost, concerned that maybe something is terribly wrong. As soon as I hear his words, “I’d like to give you my bank account number,” reality comes crashing in and I cut the call short. I tell him to write me a letter all about it, and I hang up irritated.

When he calls again a week later, I refuse to accept the charges. I am shocked when the phone bill comes. Nearly thirty dollars for a three minute call. I am doubly pleased that I had refused to accept the charges a second time. What a terrible waste of money. I could have sent the money to Chaiya as a donation. Instead KDD gets it.
scn0024 KDD Bill cropped and cleaned up

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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