Blog All Title

Blog of Observations 2/16/07

Since being here in India for almost 2 months I have made many observations. There are the good ones, the interesting ones, and the gross ones.

I think the driving in India falls under the interesting category. Like European countries, the Indians drive on the opposite side of the road than we do. Like we do they have at least 2 lanes, some lines on the road have the double yellow, some have the dashed white. However, unlike we do, they do not follow the rules that go along with the different lines. I feel as though the Indians see the lines as a restriction, just as an abstract artist would see lines as a restriction of their artistic abilities. Two cars will pass each other in one lane as a truck is coming the opposite direction. A person not used to this will find it very alarming the first time...ok, even the 20th time.

However, and this brings me to another observation, the 4th Dimension seems to take over where any 2 objects of any mass occupy the same space at the same time and still manage to come out of the 4th Dimension as 2 objects. This means 2 cars and a truck can all fit, passing each other at 60 kph, on a 2 lane road. Its like a constant game of chicken, I think the Indians like to keep their adrenaline pumping.

Strangely enough, that brings me to another interesting observation: you want anything lifted and carried any distance...6 Indian men. That is it. That's all it will take and anything will be moved. Bookshelf, boat, car, tank...its all taken care of.

I have also noticed that there are a lot of stray dogs that roam around in all the cities I have been to. It makes me sad because you see some that have broken legs, sores, wounds, and I always get a little teary eyed. I've seen some puppies too. Some of the dogs are even feral. They actually roam around in packs. It just makes me glad that my puppy is safe at home. I might try to smuggle some of the cute, only semi-feral dogs back. Mom, you want any more dogs?

Ah, yes and speaking of packs of feral dogs, there seem to be a lot of stag males that roam around all day everyday, I rarely see a woman out past 6; the men just roam. I don't really know why, but they do, and oddly enough, they are all card carrying members of yet another elite male organization: The Tight Pants Club.

Another observation I have made is about modes of transportation. There are many. And I have been fortunate enough to have been in almost all of them. There are the Autorickshaws, which are little 3 wheeled taxis that motor around town and charge you a lot, but they are fun. There are also the Ambassador Classic cars with the velor interior. Those are rather comfortable to travel in. There are the mini minivans with 10 inch wheels which are not so comfortable, but nonetheless they will get you from point A to point B. In the Adamans we used the WWII replica jeeps that were a blast to ride in down the dirt roads. Then you have the regulation size cars, such as a Toyota SUV. There is also the public transportation: the bus. The bus is fun and it is quite the experience. However, I have not participated in the “dangle bus” as we call the over-crowded buss with people hanging off the doors. A moped ride is in the future...

Speaking of transportation, people like to maximize capacity and minimize trips. So therefore, I have seen about 15 people in an auto when 3 of us barely fit in one. I have also seen an entire family on a motorcycle and by entire I mean mom, dad, 3 kids. I have also seen the classic 2 people on a moped with a giant door in between them and a bike with one man and about 1,000 pots on the back all tied together on bamboo.

I have also made little observations. I noticed the way the sun rises over the Arabian Sea in Mangalore while on a boat. How the sun was bright orange with a hint of pink. And as it rose it turned the water in its path pink, then orange, then yellow, as it got higher and higher in the sky. I have also observed the little white flowers that have the sweetest smell I have ever smelled. I noticed the sweet face of a bus conductor as he pleaded with Laura and I to get on the bus as he ensured us we would have seats. I have also noticed how many people are so eager to help because it is in their nature to help, but we have been to concerned with keeping our space from others that it makes us feel uncomfortable when they try to help. And I have noticed that I enjoy seeing the little things in India and relating it to the big picture I have begun to form in my head.

On Tuesday, we took a bus to Old Goa. The bus ride started out with a few people scattered here and there. You could read the sign at the front of the bus that clearly stated “39 people sitting and 10 people standing”... They follow it strictly, let me tell you...(right). By the time we made it to Panji (a large bus interchange), there were 2 rows of people crammed in the aisle and all the seats had a minimum of 2 people in them. I would say there were easily 65+ people on that bus.

When we get to Panji, everyone rushes out of the bus to get on/in other various vehicles. We disembark from our aluminum(certainly seemed like a coke can) cage.. and we walk through a maze of buses. It looked like a field of 200 growling, silver, metal twinkies. We walked across two fields packed full of twinkies; and finally, we found a bus to Old Goa that didn't look shady and completely full of people. We climb on. The bus waits for 5 minutes. Three hundred people decide they would also like to ride this particular bus to Old Goa. They pile on and the conductor squeezes into the bus tugging the door closed.

From my seat, I used to be able to see Brosi, who was sitting next to me. I used to be able to see Josh, who was standing next to me in the aisle. Now my view, on the right, is completely obstructed by a large woman in a lavender saree. The lavender saree is talking in Konkanee to the woman on my left in a green saree. The bus jerks forward, and we are off! The lavender and green sarees are talking, so I focus on the conductor, who wants everyone's fare. He wades through people in order to move from the front of the bus to the back of the bus.

Sharp left turn, lavender saree in my face.

Sharp right turn, green saree in my side.

A stop: 2 people leave, and maybe 7 get on.

The 4th dimension exists on this bus. In India, there lies a world unexplainable by modern physics. In this world, two objects, having mass in the solid state, CAN occupy the same space, AT THE SAME TIME. This is the 4th dimension, or how 100 people can fit on a bus meant for 50 max. I digress, but to continue, we reach our stop. Tanvi appears and says get up. I still can't see Brosi, even though I know that she is 2 feet, or 7 people, away from me. I look back and Josh is wide-eyed and unwilling to accept that he too must wade through Indians to reach the exit of the bus. I wriggle my way to the door, and out I go. It takes two minutes for the rest of us to get off the bus. 20 ft in 2 minutes... thats .13 mi/hr.

We are out. Josh wants to go to the Basilica first. It was a good call. This old church looks like it is made of brick, but it is actually this iron rich rock called laterite (lots of pockets and pores). On the inside it has the massive ornate ceilings and rigid pews, typical of most things old, Catholic, and European. The alter is painted with gold and the walls had wooden cherub faces carved in them. It almost made me wish I knew more about art history. If you go up to the alter and take a right, you are facing the decaying corpse of St. Francis Xavier. He died 500 years ago and his corpse still has flesh on it, granted its old and pretty brown, but skin none-the-less. The Latin above his corpse didn't make to much sense. But I got the jist of it. Servico, Servatur Ispe. I serve, before I serve myself. It was wonderful. St. Francis Xavier has been through a lot apparently. They open the glass casket so people can view the remains. One time, a woman broke off one of his hands and tried to make a break for it. Another time a person bit off a toe. I hope they were committed.

We then crossed the street and stood in front of the museum/church. They were closing up so we walked around the back. Brosi heard some bats, so we waited till dusk to leave, in hopes of seeing bats. We were standing in front of the bellfry for a while, and suddenly all of these bats started to fly. Most came out of the bellfry, and others crawled out of all of the cracks and crevasses of the church. It was awesome. Then the guard came around, and we decided it would be best to vacate.

We caught a Disco bus back to Panji. The bus driver evidently had no problem driving the bus like a Oldsmobile Cutlass (large block engine), in a derby. There were decorations on the inside of the bus, including: flowers, a light up blinking buddah, a light up blinking ganesh, blinking disco lights on the ceiling, and lots of stickers. I think that vehicles like this bus shed some light on why there are so many unidentified flying objects. This also made me wish I knew more about the art history of the blinky buddah (kidding). At Panji, we caught another bus back to NIO circle, where we were staying.

On this bus Josh, Brosi and I sat together in the back. This man sat beside Brosi. He was a masters student in IT at Goa University. He had bachyl-dactylism (sp?), Josh explained to me. Basically, his thumbs looked like big toes. I'm not going to lie, it freaked me out. He and Brosi started chatting. I tried to join, but I had a hard time hearing with all the other chatter. Even though Brosi was talking to the man, I think she had a hard time hearing too. At one point in time, this man asked Brosi out to dinner, and instead of saying yes or no, Brosi innocently replied with, “Oh yes. I eat dinner often. We eat dinner at the NIO guest house, and sometimes we eat in town.” Classic. Classic. Classic. I about died laughing. The bus arrived at NIO circle and we exited. After we were off, the bus promptly sputtered and died. The driver quickly worked his 4th dimension magic, and it rumbled to life again. It drove off with the conductor giving us a thumbs up. That about concludes our trip to Old Goa. I hope everyone at home is well. Everyone says hi to families and friends reading the blog. [Josh specifically says hi to all.] We are on Spring break as of now. Thank goodness. Hopefully we will share our adventures! (Mom and dad, don't worry I'm not running north to the Himalayas; apparently, there are copper mines less than 30 km from me... I could walk to them! You don't have to worry about my status as a flight risk. Love you!)
~Laura Waters

I know that the difference between an adipose fin and the 2nd dorsal fin of fishes is that the 2nd dorsal has spikes and rays while the adipose does not, the intestines of herbivorous fishes are longer than carnivorous fishes because the cellulose in plants takes a longer time to break down so a longer digestive tract is needed, polyculture only works if all the different species feed at different ecological niches, phytoplankton is the first step in the food chain in the ocean, if we continue to overfish-there will be no fishing at all, Coastal Zone Management laws look great on paper but are hard to enforce, mangroves provide shelter for breeding and feeding for different varieties of species of animals and also acts as a natural erosion protector, prawns freshwater/shrimp saltwater, Plankton from the hit TV show “SpongeBob” is actually a copepod and from one of my all time favorite bands, Pavement, “I know that sharks, they don’t have wings.” Deep breath. Man, is it time for Goa yet?

It’s been a long two weeks in Mangalore. We were extremely busy at the Fisheries College. We were there for 12 full days and 11 of those were all spent at the college or on a field trip with professors with the average day lasting from about 9 am to 6 pm. Talk about getting your money’s worth. They crammed as much information as they could in the two weeks. The professors were extremely nice and we all thanked them for generously offering their magnificent knowledge to us on different subjects like planktology, marine chemistry, taxonomy, coastal zone management, aquaculture, and countless other important tidbits of valuable information concerning their expertise. They of course had spent years of their lives researching these topics and provided us with a supportive background on these subjects in just a few days. I really enjoyed myself. I wanted to go to college so I could study the ocean and fishes, well I certainly got a healthy dose of fish during my stay at the Fisheries College. And dinner with the dean at his house one night was also very cool.

On the last full day with the college, we went on a long field trip. Our first stop was at a jetty. Now there is a little bit of preparation and psyching up that a person needs to do before setting foot in a jetty. This comes from experience, we had already checked out a few of the jetties in Mangalore and in Pondicherry. Now when I say that there are boatloads of fish at a jetty, I’m not being sarcastic. Seriously there is large number of boats that bring in an overwhelming amount of fish. Fish everywhere. I swear, the fish even fall out of the sky, but that’s because of the birds that lose their grip on them from their slimy scales. You got to watch your step at a jetty or one wrong step and you might be ankle deep in something that I promise you, will ruin your day. And you got to watch out for guys who carry these huge crates with God-knows-what dripping out of them. They’re already soaked with this putrid liquid and won’t give two sniffs if they drip any on you. Other than that don’t touch anything, keep moving, and remember that you can’t hold your breath forever because of the smell, so breathe.

So we looked at some of the fish the men had caught and then we were on our way. Another stop we made was at the Raj Fishmeal and Oil Co. There was no way any of us could be prepared for what we were about to witness. The dean thought it would be a great idea for us to watch how they make fishmeal, which was commonly used at various fish and shrimp farms. Right off the bat we made our way to the back of the plant and saw men unloading the sardines off of the back of the trucks. The fish are put on a conveyer belt and sent to a grinder and mashed up. Steaming them extracts the oil and the body parts are ground to a fine powder, making the fishmeal.

Witnessing this was like reading something out of Upton Sinclair’s book “The Jungle.” There were mounds of sardines waiting to get raked on the conveyer belt and even more being dumped off of the back of the trucks. The mounds of fish reminded me of how snow is piled up in parking lots after a blizzard; the fish mounds were just as high. Then from behind the conveyor belt ran an angry river of blood into a drain that was already overflowing. The guys on the trucks were using rakes to scrape the fish onto a pile. There were fish stuck in the teeth of the rakes the same way leaves stick to rakes after a few sweeps across the ground. The worst part of all of this was the smell. It was hard to breath; there was a burning in my eyes and my lungs. The smell of ammonia was also very strong and the tour guide tried explaining to me why I smelled it, but it was hard to hear over fish oil gushing out of a pipe and splashing into a collector.

Holding down our stomachs, battling the flies, ducking and dodging the pipes we witnessed the process from beginning to end. I don’t think any of us will be applying for a summer job at Raj Fishmeal and Oil Co.

After we left Hell, we visited Surumi Plant. Here they process pink perch for human consumption. Before entering this factory they made us put on white garments and silly hats to protect us from getting fish matter on us that would be fired out of grinders. I started thinking to myself, “Jesus, what did I sign up for? Is this supposed to be educational or some cruel way of torturing us?” Anyway we put the garments on and we all looked like we were ready for that one scene of “I Love Lucy” where Lucy and Ethyl work at the chocolate factory. Luckily, this tour wasn’t that bad. It was much, much cleaner because the product being produced was for human consumption instead of fish. And luckily they didn’t make us work; just watch, or I might have had to shove fish into my shirt, pants, and mouth.

I think everyone had more appreciation for why they are in school. We saw all the hard work that went into the production at both factories.

I really enjoyed the little time we had in Mangalore. I wish we would have had more free time. After the long days at the Fisheries College, most of us were too tired to explore at night. The night before our one free day, most people stayed back at the hotel to rest up, but I decided to go out and find an adventure. I walked around and found this tent with loud music and applause coming from it. Curious, I paid the 100 Rs to get inside. There were characters on the stage all dressed up like they were going to a Halloween party. Not a word of English was spoken, but I watched closely for about 40 minutes. My guess is it was a comedy because the audience would laugh every now and then and there were little kids there, too. I think it might have had some political twist to it, too. Now whether it was local or government politics they were discussing, I don’t know, but judging from the crowd there were cheers and boos after some strong gestures made by the actors.

On our day off, I again went off by myself. I tried looking for this one church that had Italian paintings inside. I found a bunch of churches but not the one with paintings. But the day wasn’t a total loss. I walked around all day and went to the markets and tried not to be suckered into buying junk I don’t need from the venders. I like being in the big crowds and sticking out like a sore thumb. This is when I feel the farthest from home and that makes me feel sad and at the same time it’s a huge rush. It’s hard to explain but when I’m with the rest of the group it feels like I’m at school, but when I’m alone on the beach with my feet in the Indian Ocean or being the only American in a crowd of people, the culture shock and the realization that “I’m not in Kansas anymore,” gives me goose bumps.

There’s no place like home.

Zak Kupchinsky

We got up really early, even before the sun did. After some last minute packing and some scrambling in the dark, our usual crew loaded up the cars that would be taking us to catch our train. The next thing I remember was a tap on the shoulder to wake me up. We made a quick stop for breakfast along the way to Chennai at Motel Mammala. I, along with everyone else, was still pretty tired from the night before. After all, it was a long night of pizza making, beer drinking, and chewing the fat with some new friends, you know, just another ordinary night at Ravi and Anu’s generous home. The breakfast was fast and so was the driving to Chennai to beat that Republic Day traffic.

Everyone was a little uneasy about the train ride, not really knowing what to expect. Everyone told us that the train rides across the country would be an experience that we would never forget. Everyone was right.

While the other students were together on the train, I had the privilege of sitting in another section with an Indian family. An Indian family that had a little girl. A little girl who was way louder than she needed to be. In fact the mother was also quite loud. All I wanted to do was sleep, but the family didn’t have the same night I had the night before and decided to talk each others’ ears off. Now, I don’t speak much Tamil or Hindi, but I think I heard about all the words in each dictionary. I kept thinking to myself, “18 more hours, just 18, I can do this.” “17 more hours to Mangalore, almost there.” “16 more hours, how come the train isn’t going faster?!?!”

Luckily, the little girl fell asleep and it soon grew quieter as the family talked a little lower to not wake her. “Ah, let there be peace in the valley” I could here my mom saying in my mind as she would always say when she would turn the noisy TV off before we would sit down to a peaceful meal. With the quietness now in our little cubical, I dug out a book and decided to do a little reading on a topic that we had discussed in our Coastal Zone Management course the day before.

“You a student?” from out of the quietness the mother had questioned me.
“Yes,” I replied.
“You from Australia?” came another question.
I quick thought to myself, “Australia?!?!, oh, it’s my damn Tilley hat sitting next to me. “No,” and I proudly said, “I am from the United States of America.”

And so we started to talk. They asked me how I liked India. Asked me how I liked the food. Asked me about this and that, the usual questions I’ve been getting since being in country. I politely answered that everything was great and that I was having a wonderful time, which I was, and we talked and talked some more. Then one of the older gentlemen in the family told me about how his sons and daughters left for school in the US and never came back to India. I told them that my parents probably won’t have to worry about that happening to me with me studying abroad in India.

It was nice talking and hearing English. They were a really tight family, very nice, I wanted to talk more but I also wanted to stretch my legs and get some fresh air. I excused myself and made my way to the open side doors of the train. Brosi and Laura were camped out catching the country side. It was hard to see it out of my tinted window, so when I saw it up close I was really taken back by the beauty. Growing up I got to see lots of county side in Pennsylvania, but I never saw anything like this. I’m use to seeing rows and rows of corn, but here in India it was rice patties and tall, lanky coconut trees. And the mountains! It would be flat right across a stretch of farm land and then all of a sudden there would be a big chunk of earth sitting in the middle of it. Nothing like the rolling Appalachian mountains back home.

Right before “lights out” on the train, I made a gutsy move and pulled out my guitar. I was afraid the family might not dig some music, but what the hell. They thought I was some guitar virtuoso. The amateur that I am played a couple of original songs and a Beatles tune or two. This of course sparked another conversation. It was great. We started talking about the Beatles and how we both were big fans. We talked about George Harrison and all of his inspiration that had come from the Eastern culture. Funny, two very different cultures bonding together talking about the Beatles, of all things.

The sleep on the train was surprisingly great. We made great timing, too. Only 17 hours instead the 18 scheduled. But now a 2 hour drive to the Beach resort Sai Vishram.

Oh the beach was pretty. Just as pretty as the Andamans. There was a sunset on our first night that I’ll never forget. The sun somehow dissolved after being quenched by the cool ocean water.

We weren’t here to relax, though. There was much work to be done. Our mission was to create an artificial reef. We hope that the reef will one day will be a common aggregation spot for fish and hopefully stimulate the fishing in the nearby village. We picked this spot to work on because of the high turbidity found in the coastal water. Turbidity is no good for reefs, so if we can make it here, we can make it anywhere.

We planned it all out and the next day we were out looking for big rocks to fill the tires that we would use to sink the reef. We cut some holes in the tires that would release any trapped air in the tires then rolled them to the beach to be tied together. It was fun. I like being outside working and getting dirty and sweaty. I think the others had a good time, too.

I again made some new friends. After we successfully managed to get one structure all tied up, we took a little break by playing around on the beach. People started taking pictures and I made them snap one of me with my fully grown sea weed beard I had on my face. Some local kids, upon seeing me do this, thought it was the coolest thing they had even seen. They laughed and scrambled for any sea weed they could get their hands on. Within minutes, they had sea weed hair-dos, sea weed goatees, sea weed fu manchus, sea weed mustaches, sea weed, sea weed, sea weed! It was hilarious. Again, neither of us spoke the others language, but we both shared a big laugh.

I would like to think that our mission at the beach resort was successful, but only time will tell if growth occurs on the tires. Speaking of time, its been a complete month since we arrived here in India. Its only been one month, but I feel like I have a lifetime of stories and tales to tell.

Now we are back in Mangalore at Fisheries College. We’ll be here for about two weeks before heading north to Goa. The Fisheries College is supposed to be the best fisheries college in India. The only convincing I needed to know that it is the best is that it’s the only college in India that owns a boat! Ha! It’s a really great place. The profs are really smart and love what they are teaching. That makes it enjoyable for the students.

Oh India.

Zak Kupchinsky

We went to Chanumbar a two weeks ago while being introduced to areas of India we could do research at. Chanumbar is a beach near Pondi/Auroville that is part of the Kallivelli drainage system. This beach is used extensively by fishermen to pull their boats on shore and to dry their catch. They use small boats that 3-5 men to motor off shore a short way and then collect fish by gill nets.
I will describe the scent of the beach as both strong and interesting. There are, after all, a lot of drying fish.
Bye for now!