Juniata College India Marine Science

My first sight of it, with its beaked nose and white feathers surrounding its yellow eyes, I thought it to be an eagle, but after noticing the size and its squarish body the head rested on, I reconsidered. Then this creature made a sound that made my heart want to explode out of my chest. The beak opened and an eerie, high-pitched “you-who” like call came out and scared me. I didn’t run away though, it would be impossible to run. So I followed it around a corner and spotted 3 more of these bizarre creatures resting on the slab of concrete known around my house as the back porch. “You-who, you-who” they called for me to get closer, I wanted no part and slowly backed up and planned on escaping to the woods behind me before these things became inevitably hostel. Then before I could step into the woods, two flew off like they had been spooked by something. From behind me, I sensed something really big, a bigger one of these beasts. I was then certain of it when I heard it earth-shattering, ear-sheering “YOU-WHO.” I needed Pops to come out and witness these things and help me should one try and attack. I wanted to yell, “Dad, come out here right now!” All I could manage was “Ahhhhh!”

And then somehow, there I was resting on my bed in my room, with my mom in the door way watching and smiling at me. I wanted to move my head to get a better view of her, but for some reason I was paralyzed and couldn’t move anything. She started laughing as she saw me struggle to move and so I yelled again. “Ahhhhh!” I just wanted her to come close and stop this craziness that was happening to me. “Ahhhhh.” And then I snapped out of it. I watched my bedroom transform and morph back to the hut I had been actually sleeping and resting in here in Pondicherry.

I was upset, cold and sweaty. I wanted to be at home because I missed it there. To see it flash away so fast was unsettling. But, “it’s all part of the game,” I thought and then I was OK. It was one hell of a rush witnessing what had just happened. “Do it again,” I thought as I rolled over and went back to sleep. Sorry for waking you up Josh.

Back to reality. Back to Pondicherry. Yeah Mangalore and Goa were fun, but it was time to return to Pondicherry for the second half of our marine science program. We arrived in Chennai around 2:30pm and darted to the nearest restaurant. There was hardly anything to eat on that 22 hour train ride. It was again a pleasant ride, I was able to sleep pretty well through the night even though my feet were always blocking the door that led to the other car. Every time someone would open the door during the night, my feet were there to take the hit and wake me up.

Two dosas, a watermelon juice, piece of cake, and some ice cold bottled water to wash it all down later, I felt satiated and I think the rest of the group felt better as well and then we were on the road back to Pondi. It’s a nice ride between Pondi and Chennai, we’ve been on it several times and I have enjoyed it each time. There’s always something to see through the window. The highway is right along the ocean, so there’s some nice beaches to look at, there’s some salt flats where big pools of sea water are held to evaporate the water exposing the salt to be harvested, cows, goats, and always a hand full of guys road side answering the call of nature. An hour later we got back to the huts, to the mud pits, to the middle of no where.

After the four busy weeks in the cities, it was nice to chill out in the quietness around the huts. The quietness would soon, however be interrupted by an exciting Saturday night.

It was Saturday night. Loads of people showed up to enjoy the b-b-q Ravi and Anu had planned. Dr. Paula Martin was here this week all the way from Juniata College. She would be in our company for the next week enlighting our knowledge of marine invertebrates and functional ecology. I never had the pleasure of meeting Paula at school, so fortunately I had the opportunity of working with her in India.

As for the party, it was nothing less than a perfect way to start off 8 more weeks of India. The chicken was great, the ice cold beer that I drove through traffic on a mo-ped in Pondi to get was great, the guests were great, it was a great time.

Rauf was there, you’ll hear more about him in my future blog about the Andamans where we first met him. Rauf is a good friend of those around FERAL and of Neil Pelkey. He is very intelligent and likes to drink a lot. He was making some of students laugh so hard that they had tears in their eyes so I sat in on what he had to say and couldn’t understand any of it. It was all nonsense what he was saying, but funny at the same time. He then yelled and scolded me for taking Mefloquine saying that it is awful for your liver. I felt like informing him that the liquid in his glass that smelled like WHISKEY has the same effect. But after my lecture, he told me a dirty joke and he left to refill his glass.

The week of Paula was great. Really relaxed, it was an gentle way to ease in to the second stretch. She had us write about our experiences with invertebrates that we had encountered in India so far and describe their lifestyle. I chose to write about the symbiotic relationship between clown fish (Nemo) and anemone. Throughout every biology text book that’s been put under my nose at Juniata, there’s always been a section on symbiosis, always with a picture of a “Nemo” fish buried in a blanket of toxic tentacles of a sea anemone. I also saw them together at the Baltimore aquarium but still never thought much of them until I saw them in this huge aquarium called the Indian Ocean. When I saw them during a scuba diving trip, I fell in love with them. It was all put into a different perspective, instead of them being brought to my world, I was brought to their world. Very cool, but I’ll save that scuba diving stuff for my next blog.

She also took us on a field trip to the wetlands of Kaliveli. We mucked around in the mud and collected some bugs and brought them back to the lab to check out and research.

March 1st. My b-day. It was a fun day. I wanted to do something crazy to celebrate so I jumped in a well. Ravi and Anu have a well outside their house. The drop to the water level is about 25 feet, but when you jump in from off the roof its about 30. So I did. What an incredible rush. All of us man or woman enough to jump in made the plunge in and swam around for a while. Getting out was the tricky part. There are no steps or ladders. Just a ring of bricks lining the circumference of the well placed every two feet from the top to the bottom. So we had to rock climb to get out.

Then we swam around in a mud pit behind the huts. That too was wild. The surface water was jacuzzi hot, but from all the clay and dirt in the water, the water on the bottom that never saw daylight, was bitter cold.

That night, we made our own dinner. We asked for special ingredients of this and that and prepared the dishes that we miss most from the states. I made toasted cheese sandwiches over the fire pit. The first 6 I made came out a little funky looking, but still tasted good. After those six, I had them grilled to perfection and the last 4 were just like home. Some creamy tomato soup would have made it a birthday to remember, but I wasn’t going to be picky. We finished the night at Seagull’s for a round or two of drinks.

Having my birthday without my friends and family was sad. All the people here treated me well and I had a fun day, but I just remembered the awesome time I had with my friends at school last year for my 21st birthday. The mefloquine really started hitting me hard with the depression. The last day here with Paula was the worst. We went to Auroville and I just remember not having an enjoyable time. All the sites were really cool, but my mood was not in the best shape to appreciate them. I was worried about this and that and was disgusted with the fact that we had to eat the regular FERAL dinner. I hate complaining about food, because I know some people don’t always get it, but I was just really upset knowing I would have to choke down rice for the next 7 or 8 weeks.

So the depression would hit me for like an hour or two, always right as the sun goes down. The sunsets are always picturesque but I remember for a few of them that I couldn’t careless if the sun had just exploded. There’s always something that picks me up and snaps me out of it, so that’s good. Sometimes it’s a Strokes song, a message from my buddy Quinn, or even one time walking to a near by town I passed a cricket game and a grounder was hit right my way. I stopped lowered the butt, put the hand’s out front, fielded, crow-hopped and delivered a strike back to the pitcher. Text-book example of how to field and throw. One guy on the field yelled, “nice fielding.” Damn straight “nice fielding,” I wasn’t the starting first baseman for my high school championship team because of my good looks. Instantly, I felt better about India.

After a week and a half at FERAL, we traveled south to a Marine Biology school located in Porto Novo. It was only a three day trip and sadly the best part of the entire trip was that the rooms in the guest house where we stayed had A/C. Two of the three professors that had presentations for us were not good. The first one taught us about crustaceans. She had to keep reassuring us of all the books she published every time she noticed the sketchy look on our faces after she flung out some hard to believe facts about squilla and crabs. I almost felt like saying, if she would have mentioned one more time about her dumb books, “Well you’re just a regular Bill Shakespeare aren’t you, after writing all these books.” That might not have been nice though. But seriously, everyone was disappointed in her presentations and her books were not informative. They were just drawings of crabs. My little brother could have made something like it and he’s only in first grade.

The next guy was a no better. He went on and on and on about sea shells, just about their appearance. Tell me something about which creatures eat them or how they burrow in the sand or something more important than, “the Cockel shell has ridges.” Wow, thanks, I don’t have eyes to tell me that.

But the mangrove professor was worth the whole trip. Him and one professor we had at the Fisheries College, Dr. Katti, both make me want to be a better student. I don’t remember his name, but I do remember that his last name meant “rising sun.” Superb teacher. It was like he was telling us this mystical adventure of mangroves in the foreign land of India, like something spectacular. He held our attention very easily with his enthusiasm and extensive knowledge of these highly important trees. This guy was fired up about mangroves. Guys like him and Katti almost make me want to become a teacher. That’s how you have to teach, be excited about it, make the students excited. I’m fired up about them now.

And now we’re back here. In the huts. Jumping in wells. Riding mo-peds. Back to work. Fear and loathing in Pondicherry.

Zak Kupchinsky

It was spring break. My plan for the next week was simple: go to the beach everyday with my guitar and drink ice old Kingfishers and/or an assortment of frozen concoctions. Basically my plan was to be Jimmy Buffet for one week.

Oh the beach was nice. Cool water and hot babes is the best way to describe it. Babes so hot and intimidatingly beautiful that when I approached one along the beach just to say “Hello” or “How are you?” I blacked out for a half hour before saying anything. When she made eye contact with me everything went dark, that’s all I remember. When I snapped out of it I forgot who I was and wondered what the hell I was doing out on a beach in India. Once my senses came back and I regained feeling in both legs, I got off the beach before another one would harm me again. Then the group grabbed me and we went to lunch.

One of the funniest things I’d seen in India happened next. We made our way down the beach to this group of resorts and restaurants. The first one along the beach was Bora Bora. As we approached the sitting area to read the menu, a staghound angrily chased a smaller dog into the tables and chairs. Just then, this shirtless guy with a shaved head stood up and yelled something awful in Russian. He grabbed a giant stick and with a fierce tone of voice and a string of Russian vulgar vocabulary, he chased that staghound away. It was so intense, but funny at the same time. That little dog must have some street-cred with the Russian mob. We wound up not eating here, but a more low-key, relaxed, less barbaric canteen down the way.

The next day I met Dhillon. What a cool guy. He had a very strong English and Indian heritage. I was playing my guitar right along the edge of the water, far enough from the crowded shoreline so if anyone didn’t want to hear me play, my bad notes would be drowned out by the crashing sounds of the waves. As I was playing he approached me and we started talking. While we were chewing the fat, we were interrupted by a German couple. The dude was like, “I would like a picture of you and your guitar with my [topless] wife.” I was like, “OK? Sure.” Plus, I didn’t want to say “no” to a man wearing a rubber band as a bathing suit, didn’t want to make him mad and just wanted both of them to be on their way. It was kinda weird but cool. So he snapped it and Dhillian and I were again deep in conversation. We were somewhere between Holden Caulfield and Steinbeck’s “Grapes of Wrath” when we were interrupted again.

This time was by two women from Russia. They thought it was cool that I was playing and one really liked it so much she started free styling to some of my original works. She was hesitant at first but then just let it rip yelling any sound she could make. It sounded like something between Jansin Joplin and the sound a cat might make if you set it on fire. But she was having fun and so was I, so much for pissing off people along the beach with music.

Dhillian bought me a couple of beers and we talked all afternoon. We had planned to meet at Mapusa in a few days to see the carnival. He told me it is an event worth seeing. Anyway the next day I wound up going with the group to Mapusa. We did a little shopping and a little exploring. At the market I almost bought six chickens. They were just little chicks peepin’ around in a little cage looking cute and fluffy. The lady told me 50 Rs for 6 and I almost bought the whole lot. But then I thought about how hard it would be to take them on the train back to Chennai and I’m sure Ravi and Anu might not be tickled about having chickens running around their house.

I was just getting ready to leave the beach and get washed up to go to the carnival when I met Tanya from Moscow. She had been sitting by herself all afternoon on the beach when I noticed her the few times I would look up from either my book or guitar. So I strolled over and asked her if she would have a drink with me, and of course she said “yes” and then accepted to have a Kingfisher. After a brief introduction I liked her from the start. She didn’t seem as stuck up, in fact she wasn’t stuck up at all, like some of the other girls on the beach. The only thing we really had in common was that she went to school in Iowa and I had once heard of Iowa. Actually, I had to bring up “Field of Dreams” when I said that and when she told me that she had visited the field where the movie was shot, I asked her to marry me. No, I didn’t really but did ask her if she wanted to get something to eat at night. Again she agreed and the plans were to meet at Club Cubana at 9:30.

After a shower and a shave, I called Samir next. Samir had a motorcycle with an extra seat for me; I think they call it “pilot rides” when you ask for a ride on a motorcycle. But for one person trying to get to one place to the next, “pilot rides” are the way to go, cheap and fast. Samir was also a cool guy and got me to all the places that I had asked him to safely. So he took me to Club Cubana.

Tanya arrived five minutes late which seemed like an eternity because I had a feeling that I might get stood up, but was relieved when I saw her pop out of a cab wearing her stylish Russian clothes. Together we walked a ways down the street to a small restaurant. I told her to order whatever except booze, because once you paid an arm and a leg to get into the club the drinks were on the house, open bar. I had made this mistake last time I went to a club. I figured, I better get my drinks outside of that place because they will probably be pricy inside, but I was wrong. We ate up and then split to the club along with the cover to get in. With the couple discount, we only had to pay 500Rs each.

It was a nice night with a nice girl. Lots of laughing, drinking, and dancing. It got late in a hurry. 4:30am I think we rolled out. About a half hour later I entered the twilight zone and weird things started happing. I remember being scared by a woman’s face in a bush and just having this awful feeling that I was going to be shot. I pleaded with Tayna to take a cab somewhere just to get us out of here, but taxis at 5 am are hard to come by. We escaped to a beach resort near her hotel and laid out on some lounge chairs. I woke up around 11:30am, still on the lounge chair along the beach, to a dog peeing next to my head. “Whoa, time to get home,” I thought and was relieved when I still had my wallet, passport, and my watch still with me. I looked around for Tanya but it wasn’t until I felt a piece of paper stuff into my front pocket that I realized she had left. It was a note that said, “Thanks for dinner and a fun night…Tanya.” She also left her email address. I was hungry. So I got on a bus and went to Bora Bora.

My last impression of Goa was a bad one. The group and I stayed at Pleasure Cottages and the manager was the biggest joker I have ever met. If I ever see this guy around I will punch him out. The place was beautiful, very lovely, but the last day this guy ruined it for me. He had asked me before I/the group left, that he wanted a gift from America. Now he had been a very cool guy up until this point, so I was like, OK, I’ll find him something. Then, it wasn’t until I went looking through my gear that I had nothing to really give him. But then I found a brand new quarter stuffed away in one of my compartments of my suitcase. I thought, it isn’t much, but it’s from America and why should I even have to give him a gift, I paid his price to stay here for five nights? So I gave him the quarter and explained how each state has it’s own “tails” side drawing, this one happened to be from Louisiana. In exchange he gave me a disappointed look and I felt a little bad, but then as walked away I felt no remorse when he asked, “You don’t have a pair of sandals you don’t want anymore?” I almost told him to shove off right then and there.

On the car ride to the train station I asked the girls what they gave to him as their gift from America. They had no idea what I was talking about. They weren’t asked to give any gift. Then Josh my roommate said that he caught him one day when I wasn’t there, trying them on when I had them outside on the porch drying off. So the bugger just wanted my sandals, but I happen to need them for walking around the wetlands of Kaliveli. I’m mad I even gave him that quarter.

It’s OK Goa, I still love you.

Zak Kupchinsky

This one was a quick train ride, only six hours to Goa from Mangalore. The National Institute of Oceanography was next on our list of places to go. The best thing about NIO is that it is located in Goa. Goa is famous and infamous for its beaches, booze, and babes. I, of course, was excited for all three.

Our first full day, Sunday was off so our group went exploring. We started off at a popular spot in the morning. I was hesitant to go at first when our lovely Indian guide Tanvi, called it “The Jetty.” She reassured us that it was nothing like the nightmares we had seen in Mangalore. This was a family place where you could go to sit and relax and enjoy a nice dinner. So we went and it sort of reminded me of the boardwalk at the shore. There was a cement bridge that led to a small rocky island where you could climb stairs to the top and get a great view of the bay. Along the bridge were little stands of people selling this and that. It really was nice and so were the people there. They were so excited about white people, we all had our picture taken with about five or six different Indian families.

Then we took a bus to the town of Panaji which was near by. I checked out the busy streets first then made my way to alleyways. Each nook and cranies with a different adventure waiting to be explored.

I noticed very easily that Goa is quite different than some of the other Indian places we have visited. Goa is really touristy, a lot cleaner, and definitely has more white faces, so that means less stares from the locals when they see one.

We met at FoodLand for lunch. I had a chicken cheeseburger and fries; it tasted like a million bucks. I can’t say that I’m a huge fan of the Indian cuisine, when I get back to the states I WILL NEVER EAT RICE AGAIN! So when I ate this burger, it really hit the spot and I instantly fell in love with Goa. Little did I know, it would get much better.

We came back and rested up, walking around town takes a lot out of ya. Later on, I went back to the Jetty to watch the sunset. I went armed with a few remaining sips of rum that I mixed with a Coke and watched that sun set. It was really relaxing watching the soft orange glow of the sky turn an unexpected purple and listening to the steady howl sound the bottle of Coke made from the unceasing wind. It was a nice way to unwind after two very busy weeks at the Fisheries College.

It got really dark fast and the power and street lights seemed to always be going out, so I made my way back to the NIO guest house even faster. The guesthouse was nice, there was A/C in all the rooms and the food wasn’t too bad. Everyone ate up and then as a group we went to a nearby bar that was a hop, skip, and jump away.

Shots of Old Monk rum were only 15 Rs so I ordered 3 and a Coke. We sat around drinking at our table talking about the trip so far, about all the good times we had at Juniata, this, that, and the other thing.

At the end of the night I was pretty torn. I couldn’t figure out why 3 had got me to the drunken state I was in, I’m a light weight but normally 3 shots doesn’t floor me. Then someone showed me the bar menu and 15Rs was for a double shot. “Well that explains it, but wait…” I thought for a second and did some math in my head. “Six shots for 45 Rs is like 1 dollar in the states!” Six shots for a dollar! Goa I love you.

Monday morning we started classes at NIO. What a place, let me tell you. I think NIO has the machine and manpower to tell you where every grain of sand is laying or floating around on the face of the earth. They’ve got their “sand” together. A usual day at NIO started with a lecture in the morning, then some library time, lunch, and then another lecture in the afternoon. I wish we had more than a week to spend here. The labs and equipment were cool, kind of reminded me of Von Liebig at JC. I wish they would have let us play with their toys, but we were only allowed to watch.

One night, in fact it was Valentine’s Day, because when I got back I remembered to call my grandmother and wish her a happy birthday, I went to a casino. Chances it was called. It was an all right place, I’ve never been in a casino in the states but it seemed like a typical casino atmosphere: slots, card tables, hell you could even bet on a computerize version of which chicken would beat up the other chicken. I went to the bar and a few gin in tonics later I made my way to the outside where I had heard music playing. Right along the beach, three parties were going on. I had a security guard escort me into the Valentine’s party, but didn’t feel like partying that much when I found out it was 900 Rs to get in. After I declined, the guard pointed down a path which he told me to follow, make a right around the shrubs, exit is straight ahead. I followed all the directions except for “exit is straight ahead.” I wasn’t ready to go home yet so instead I made a left into the hotel bar, and walked straight through to the other side where I found, just in time, a woman pop out of a fake wooden cake spraying Champaign on some lucky birthday dude. It was one hell of a 50th birthday party: beach load of people, live jazz band, belly dancers, and fireworks. I was just watching and had a great time being there. Later on I walked down the beach to another party, this time it was a wedding. Again live band, fireworks, and good times. I wasn’t brazen enough to order a drink from their open bar. It might look obvious that I wasn’t invited with the guests dressed in suits and ties and extravagant dresses. My Strokes t-shirt, dirty jeans, and a pair of worn to the nub All-Stars that would have made Chuck Taylor proud, didn’t really fit the dress code for the evening. So I called it a night.

On the last day with NIO, we did a beach profile at a popular beach in Goa. NIO personnel always measure the erosion and accumulation of sediments at this beach. During the monsoon the sediments move. There is a huge cargo ship that had wrecked and is only now being in the process of being move. It is very close to the shore and people at NIO believe that the currents reflected by the ship are causing a different displacement of these sediments, or something like that, it was hard to pay attention to what the surveyor was talking about with all the Euro-babes walking around.

To be continued…

Zak Kupchinsky

"Welcome to Auroville," the sign said, "please don't remove your shoes."
I did a double take. Most places in India, it is polite (and clean) to take off your footwear before entering a holy site or home, primarily because it is necessary to keep the upperhand in fighting the dust.
Visiting India is like, well, going to a foreign country...duh. Visiting Auroville is like visiting another dimension. For one, it is a bit like going to visit my grandma in her retirement community in Arizona- it is very clean, very friendly, and at times, uncomfortably contrived. Not to say that the people are fake, but everyone, speaks english (or french), has a tan, and wears something with a symbol of peace on it. Fortunately, I had all three bases covered: English, check. Peace sign, check- (my sister gave it to this x-mas). And thankgoodness we went to Goa so that I could at least build up a slight brown twinge.

Don't get me wrong, I LIKE AUROVILLE! Its one of the nicer places we've been to. I'll elaborate:
Auroville was founded in 1968 by some followers of a woman called The Mother and her late spiritual partner, Sri Aurobindo. The Mother had a dream that there would be a place that would belong to all people of the world, not to a specific nation. Everyone living there would willingly submit themselves to the guidance of the "Divine Consciousness". It would be a place of continued learning for people of all ages and strive toward the goal of human unity. No one type of personality or ideal was limited here. Everyone would be open.

I like this idea. It's a beautiful concept. I'm not sure exactly how well it works, but at least everyone I've met has been friendly and has a genuine sense of goodwill. Even Rauf.
Here's what I can say: I believe that it is important for people to have a strong sense of pride in their local community. There is no way that some guy in Washington, or at the UN or in the Hague will know your community better than you do. Nobody should have to wait for someone else to sign a paper that approves improvements on their own town. That is to say, if there's something wrong with the place you live- change it. And I think Aurovilians have this figured out. They know that no one else is going to force improvements on them, so if they want to make it cleaner or prettier or more efficient or more profitable, they will have to do it themselves. Sometimes they spend a lot of money on things I normally wouldn't buy, (like a giant gold-plated ball) but I don't live there, so they didn't ask me. But its not like they got a government grant to fund it, either.

Anyhow. I think that's about all I have to say about Auroville for the time being. Except that it is very progressive- organic, sustainable, communistic, even. (They eat a lot of muesli there, if you know what I mean). And I like it. I like just knowing it's there.
But it certainly isn't India.

Caitlin Eger