Year in Review and the future (thanks Kim!)

First and foremost, I hope everyone had a Merry Christmas, or simply Happy Holidays. Whichever suits you best. And with a New Year upon us, I wish everyone a reflective and prosperous New Year! As for me, what did 2009 mean to me? And what is 2010 going to bring? A surprise awaits everyone at the end (don't scroll down).

So 2009... I suppose I'll start from the beginning.

Due to my good friend Paul Rosolie, I was able to spend the transition from 2008 to 2009 in the Peruvian Amazon. Here's a small story from that very night:

"It was a two day, up-river trip from Puerto Maldonado to a small station in the middle of the jungle. In fact, if you look on Google Maps there is no civilization around the station for miles and miles. Night one on the river happened to fall on New Years Eve (I believe, it might have been the day before). As night began to fall, we saw a steep bank with a small roof on top, peering over the grasses. We tied the boat to the shore and began to unload the boat. Our accommodations for the night were a 2-person tent under a small roof. Jungle all around us, and a steady moving river behind us, life was just as vibrant at night as it was during the day.
Going back down the boat, night had fully fallen and we all needed our head lamps to navigate. Paul was standing on the bow of the boat and called me over. Leaning forward, he was looking along the bank of the river at something. A small mist began to fall from the sky. “What is it?” I said to him. “There, you see those two red dots off in the distance?” he responded. I switched the setting on my headlamp to give myself a little more light and peered off into the distance. And there I saw it. About 20-30 feet in front of the boat, under some branches and leaves, two little red dots floated among the murky water. “Yeah, I see that, what is it?” He turned to me and smiled, “Croc eyes. No more than a couple feet long. C'mon lets go.”
'Let's go?' I thought to myself. But before I could finish the thought, Paul was in his boxers sitting on the side of the boat explaining that I have to get into the water slowly so as not to scare the crocodile. The mist turned into a heavy drizzle as I stood there dumbfounded. I was half startled at how quickly he got into the water. The other half was startled because of how quickly he expected me to get into the water. Just his head above the water, he looked up at me. “The water is fine! Imagine your first chance to catch a croc!” Now excited by the prospect of what I was getting myself into on the first day in the Amazon jungle, my pants and shirt were off before I knew what was happening. But I guess my body made the decision and acted before my head caught up.
The brown murky water surrounded my body. It didn't smell bad, and it was surprisingly warm. But with a cold rain beginning to turn heavy, the water seemed much warmer. My boxers waved around my thighs as I used my feet to navigate the root-covered clay floor. Moving my hands and feet slowly, I carefully navigated from one bunch of roots and plants to another. We stopped often and peered along the surface of the water, making eye contact with the two glowing embers that awaited me at the end of the long light-tunnel.
At one point we lost track of it, it sensed we were there. When we thought we lost it, Paul and I were floating in the water. Each using a hand on a branch to keep somewhat buoyant, we simply floated. The rain grew heavy and now a flash of lightning lit the area around me. As the thunder cracked, I saw Paul's head lamp turn towards me. He looked at me and said, “This is pretty damn cool, huh? You are chasing crocs, in an amazon river, in the middle of a thunder storm. At night.” I smiled at his statement and looked around, appreciating how alive I felt where I was. The red eyes appeared and I was mesmerized. Lightning flashed and the rain fell. We floated off towards the glowing red embers."

After Peru, the school year started again, and I finished off my last semesters of college. Ever. In May 2009, I walked across a stage, thanked P-Money (President Mercer, President of Ramapo College) for the fond memories, and put college behind me. Four years of fun, stress, school work, and numerous, numerous lessons, were over. Onto more lessons and more experiences worth writing about.

By June, I completed one year of work experience at Apple Retail. While retail is not my job of choice, and I doubt I will try and get a job in that sector, Apple was one of the best experiences of my life. I met a ton of great people, learned a lot from bosses and co-workers and overall had a very positive experience working there. Heck, I enjoyed it so much that I ended up writing a song for the store that I performed during one of our small events.

By the time I left Apple, I went on vacation with my family and that was it. My life (for the time being) in America was over. After coming home from vacation, I had less than a week to say good-bye to all my friends, pack my stuff, and catch a 14 hour plane ride to Delhi. And from there, well it's all been documented in this blog. From traveling in the mountains, to biking through Kerala, to going to Sri Lanka. The first leg of my adventure has been a blast.

Now we're in the present. The past 2 weeks or so have been hectic and crazy. Let's see. I got home from Sri Lanka and quit my job. Then there was Christmas. On the 26th I officially moved out of my apartment. And I am now living at Fireflies until January 7th when I hit the road again.

So what does 2010 bring for me? Well for starters, Nepal. That's right, in the last months (I'm planning on coming home between May and June), I might as well see more mountains, tick another country off the list, and enjoy traveling to the fullest.

Looking through the lonely planet for Nepal and seeing what tickles my fancy, there are tons of things to do. From trekking, to kayaking, to elephant rides and many more. As long as I see mountains, I will be happy. And it will be chilly, so at least I will get a small taste of winter this season.

I will keep you updated, but I hope you still pay attention to the blog – it's looking like things are going to get a lot more exciting. I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

Indian Wedding

Well a week or two ago I had the fortune of attending an Indian wedding. However, I think videos and pictures will do more of a justice as to how it went. 2000 people I don't think showed up... but it was exciting none the less.

Here's the link:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xQBXyhTVRpE

Throwing rice seems like a world-wide wedding tradition.....

Mmm, Wedding Lunch. This wasn't all, we still needed the heap of rice.

Serving us our plates. For so many people, they were way more efficient than I expected.

In between meals.

Vats of Rice.

A child trying to squeeze through the people.

The ceremonial pouring coconut milk over the bride and groom's hands. Money helps too.

Offerings, all part of the ceremony and blessings.

Kiran! A worker from fireflies - it was his sister's wedding.

Hey look, it's Kiran!

Kiran's sister and her husband.

Train Ride Pictures

So here are pictures from the Puttur Train ride. I wanted them to all be large format because some of the sites are just beautiful. Therefore, if it took a while to load... sorry!

Coming Soon

So I know everyone has been waiting/asking/demanding for another blog post. Well they are coming soon, it's been quite a busy week - so busy that I haven't even gone shopping and therefore my fridge is empty (hence weekly fridge died... briefly). But, here are some stories you can look forward to:

Trip to Puttur
Sleeping in a tribal settlement outside of Mysore
Indian (American) Thanksgiving!
Attending my first Indian wedding
and my negotiations in buying a guitar in Bangalore

So as you can see, I've been busy. A lot of running around, getting on and off buses, arguing with shop owners, and the like. Yet, through the frustrating moments, India will always retain it's beauty, and I am quite happy to be experiencing this country. And the more involved I get with Indian-ways-of-life, the more I feel like last time was a watered down experience. So for those of you that have yet to visit India, and for those of you who took part in the Ramapo-Fireflies Study Abroad semester... I suggest you come to India. It's a different, yet equally enthralling, experience.

Here's a moral dilemma that perhaps the more experienced people can help with. And I mean experienced in the sense of life-experience, not anything specific. So here it is:

Every week I am cooking, consuming, buying and throwing out. Now, when I moved in here, I was told someone is supposed to come twice a week to sweep and throw out the trash. That doesn't happen. So eventually my trash builds up.

Since a lot of it is fresh produce, or organic stuffs, gnats, ants and flies are naturally attracted to the refuse. So when it's getting full I move it from my kitchen onto my balcony. In a couple weeks of me traveling around the city, going to visit friends, etc., the trash began to build up. And my balcony was no longer a welcoming place.

"Norm, why didn't you just throw away the garbage?" A logical voice might say. But if you've read past blog posts, I would quickly answer - "Where?"

Here's the dilemma: This cleaning lady, or the landlord will come take the garbage from me. Well, I don't want to presume anything, but based on what I've seen, I tend to doubt that they are having any qualms about throwing garbage into the empty lots. So let's say he does that - he takes the bags of garbage, and into the lots they go.

Now I don't want to take them there because I don't want to litter, or further encourage this littering. But am I doing any good by letting someone else throw it away? No, all I am doing is putting the responsibility on someone else. I'm not saying it's right or wrong, but turning a blind eye definitely doesn't make anything go away.

Just like the small spiel on seeing past the ugly to the beauty. Ignoring it doesn't make it go away. Putting responsibility on someone else doesn't mean it goes away from you - it just means you've failed to uphold the responsibility yourself.

I could be wrong, but I don't know yet. This is just the thought I've been on lately.

Thoughts?

Guest Post: Jodi Weinberger

Hello readers of Norm Rasmussen!

I figured since Norm is struggling with blogging about his day-to-day life, I would throw him a bone and write a guest post. That, and I have a pretty good story to tell…

Before I start, introductions are in order. My name is Jodi and I am working at Fireflies Ashram, about 40 km outside Bangalore, and about 2 hours from RT Nagar where Norm lives. I too completed the South India Study Abroad program in 2008 and fell in love with India. My passion for cows, curry, and the smell of burnt garbage combined with the crashing economy brought me back for a second round. My tasks here have been simple thus far: re-do the Fireflies website (I have little to no prior knowledge of web design) and hang out/make friends with the other staff (this includes a lot of me sitting and smiling while I am almost certain they are making fun of me in Kannada).

My story starts on Thursday. Norm came to Fireflies and I introduced him to all the new staff that had come to work here after we left. Included in these introductions was one woman I knew he would instantly love. Her name is Lakshmama. My guess at her age is somewhere between 40 and 60 but the special part about her is that she speaks almost every language in India: Kannada (the local language in Karnataka), Tamil, Malayalum, Urdu, Hindi and English. Norm and her bonded right away and soon she was explaining to us that she had American dollars she wanted exchanged for rupees. I was eager to help and told her that of course I could take her money into the city and exchange it. Where the money was and how she acquired it was not fully disclosed at that time.

Fast forward to Sunday. I wake up, eat some breakfast, talk to my parents on skype. I told them I had a boring day planned; attempting to do some bucket laundry and reading outside. My day turned out to be anything but boring…

Purnabas (a staff member who speaks broken English) asked me if I wanted to walk with him to a function in the next village. Where I live is considered Dinnepalya. Utthari, where we were going, is about a kilometer away. One of the drivers for Fireflies, Muniraj (Moon-ee-raj) and another staff member, Rajesh, both live in that village. Muniraj is the president of the branch of the caste that both him and Rajesh belong to in Utthari. I’m not actually sure what the function was about, and if that explanation seems hazy it’s because it was explained to me while I was riding on the back of a motorcycle that Rajesh was driving from Utthari to Dinnepalya.

Purnabas and I walk to Utthari and along the way I slowly acquire a parade of children who follow me and ask me what my name is, they then repeat my name (CHO-TI) all the way to the village. About half way there we also run into the man who is giving Purnabas harmonium lessons. He demands Purnabas leave and go back to Fireflies with him to practice the harmonium. So now it is just myself attending a function where no English is spoken. I show up to a colorful tent and see Muniraj speaking enthusiastically into a microphone. Although all the villagers attention is on him, it still spreads quickly that there is a foreigner in the audience and all eyes turn to look at me as I am ushered into a seat.

Many women give me evil looks until I fold my hands together and say “Namaskara”. They look relieved and smile broadly back. Children cautiously peer at me and I smile back at their intense stares. About a half hour into watching the events of the function unfold I feel a tap on my shoulder. I think nothing of it as the whole time I am sitting I know the little Indian children are poking at my white skin. But another harder jab comes and I turn around to see Lakshmama. She whispers in my ear, “my sister is waiting for us around the corner.”

It’s important to note that every time Lakshmama has talked to me about exchanging money it is always in private and she reminds me that no one should know about this. She told Norm and I she had about $60 to exchange, we thought maybe a tip from someone who had come to Fireflies.

Lakshmama and I walk to meet her sister and once there she pulls out a piece of computer paper, on it are photocopies of the back and front of a bill. A 1,000,000-dollar bill. My immediate response was to laugh, but as I look at Lakshmama and her sister’s face I know they are serious about getting this exchanged into rupees. I calmly explained that what she handed me is fake. She replied yes, it is a Xerox. I tried to tell her that this amount of money is not printed, but her sister had to catch a bus and a lot was lost in translation, so we decided meet with Purnabas later that night where he could translate between Hindi and English.

I call Norm and explain this ridiculous situation I am now in on my way back to the function. I barely make it to a seat when a man taps me and says “Madam, please” and motions for me to move forward in the audience. I am reluctant, but he is persistent and leads me to the front row. The men who are on stage all smile and whisper to one another while gesturing to me. As the function goes on it is clear they are celebrating certain leaders in the community. I notice they are talking about me more and more and without notice a man leaps down from the stage and makes me stand up while he places flowers around my neck and has the photographer take pictures of me. I was very embarrassed that the only qualification it seemed that I had for receiving this honor was being white. No one else seemed to question the flowers or the plaque that gets handed to me a few minutes later. Although I was worried that the Indians wouldn’t want me invading their function, I wasn’t too happy with the opposite reaction either: an overwhelming welcoming. I am not sure how to react in those situations, or how to thank them. After the function appeared to be over, big buckets of rice were brought out and I was forced to sit and eat. A little girl who had befriended me quickly reprimanded me for using the wrong hand to eat with (it’s the right hand if you ever find yourself in a similar situation) and all the other kids surrounded me to watch the odd way I shoveled rice in my mouth and inquire about my mother, father, sister and brother’s names. Finally Rajesh rescued me and took me back to Fireflies on his motorcycle.

My day was not over… I still had to meat with Lakshmama to explain to her about the fake money. On my way up to the computer lab I hear her call my name and I see her in the kitchen talking with Purnabas. She tells me she has explained to Purnabas about the money. When I ask her how she got her hands on such a bill, she told me she took it out of a donation jar. Why someone would put a fake million-dollar bill in a donation jar and why she would take it out is still a mystery. I also think that when she told Norm and I $60, maybe she meant 6 zeros? I did my best to explain to her that on the photocopy of the bill she gave me, it said it was not actual money, and also that they don’t print that much money. However, she wasn’t convinced and said that she would bring it to my room in 2 days.

So for now the situation is not resolved. Hopefully Lakshmama will not be too disappointed when she realizes that they money she thinks she has is fake.

Anyway, that was my supposed-to-be-lazy-Sunday turned into quite an exciting day with situations that would only happen in India.

Jodi



If you, or anyone you know would like to contribute a guest post (it can be about anything you want, it's not reserved for India only), send me an e-mail and I'll post: norman.rasmussen@gmail.com

Other than that stay tuned for the next in the series, The Apartment (parts I AND II), and Your Weekly Fridge!

Your Weekly Fridge #1

Some pictures for you:








For a new treat, I've come up with a new idea for the blog. Every week I am going to take a picture of my fridge and post it here. Just to see what happens. Might be boring, might be interesting. I got the inspiration from a recent Digg.com article. Mark Menjivar has just come up with a photographic series called: You are what you eat. He took a picture of various people's fridges and wrote a short background on their life style. Here's the link.

As for me, here's number one... Mind you, I just came home from shopping.

The Neighborhood

So in an attempt to keep my eye on the unique things when life becomes mundane, I've had an idea for the blog. A series of unknown proportions, I'll start small, and slowly expand my reach to other parts of the city. This first one: The Neighborhood.

My house is located in the small section of the city of R.T. Nagar, called Sultan (or Sulthan) Palya. See, it works like this, you have Bangalore District. Which encompasses a large area around the main city, engulfing lots of villages. Then you have Bangalore City itself. Inside the city you have sections, which are large segments of the city. Some of the more popular names are Jayanagar, Banashankari, Basavangundi, MG Road (not really a section but hugely popular), Gandhi Bazaar, R.T. Nagar etc. Now inside all of these bigger sections, you have small sections. Such as: Sultan Palya; which is in R.T. Nagar, which is in Bangalore City, which is in the District of Bangalore, which is in the State of Karnataka, which is in the Country of India. Make sense yet?

If I exit my apartment and go to the right I almost immediately hit K.H.B Main Road. A main road that dissects Sultan Palya, this road connects Dinnur Main Road (which goes to R.T. Nagar) to Outer Ring Road (a highway type road that basically circles around Bangalore.

K.H.B Main Road with the restaurant "PUNJABI FOOD" Across the street. The two white cars are part of the driving school that is there.

K.H.B is a busy road, always moving, always with people. Compared to my road, it is well-paved. The road I live on is mostly gravel, broken pavement, and pot holes. Bikes driving by the apartment go slowly, swerving around pot holes, bouncing over gravel. It's strange to see so much broken gravel and bad infrastructure when you notice the house across the street from me.

Looking up from the road, a manicured stone wall and gate close in a modern-style house of luscious plants. I say a manicured stone wall to differentiate between the rest of the stone walls in Bangalore. Most are simple brick, or cement walls. Flat, originally white, now brown or black with soot, they are easy to make and erect. This wall is a grey stone, designed and cut in certain ways to match the house. Aesthetically, it is way more appealing than other walls. On top and inside of the walls, the manicured nature of the house continues.

Tropical vines and palm trees adorn the small walk-way leading into the house, creating a shady spot during a hot day. Just inside the gate there are always three vehicles. One motorcycle, one small Suzuki, and the rare, but ever-more-visible-in-Bangalore Mercedes-Benz. Most people in Bangalore with a family hire a driver. They bring the kids to school, drive parents to work, and take care of basic chores. Once I saw a beautiful blue S-series Mercedes driving down the road, a man driving and a woman in the back seat. It was obvious from appearances that the woman owned the car, and the man was driving. Hell, if you're going to own a car that nice you think you would want to drive it yourself, right?

This car across the street is similar. Only once have I seen it leave the house and actually be driven around. Other than that the car does one other thing. Or I should say the driver does one thing to the car. Every morning between 11 and 12, the gate to this house opens, and the driver brings the Mercedes out onto the street. He then goes back inside and comes out with a bucket of water and a sponge. And every morning, tenaciously, relentlessly, this man washes his client's Mercedes. Even when it's not dirty (and it never is) he carefully washes the front, back, the wheels, the hub cabs, never leaving one spot untouched.


This is looking out from the steps of my apartment building looking to the house across the street. John's car is that Maroon Scorpio on the right hand side of the photo. The second photo is just looking a little up and to the right from the first.

One morning as I arrived home from my bike ride, a woman from the house, still in her nightie came out with a Golden Retriever with a beautiful coat, and an even better demeanor. She exited the main gate of the house with this dog, unleashed, and it quickly followed her over to an adjacent gate on an empty plot of land. I also noticed that on what looked like this big empty drive way, at the very end were two more cars inside a gate. Their cars as well? I'm not sure, but they used that plot of land for the dog.

Enthralled that I hadn't played with a canine companion for many months now, I stared at this beautiful dog.
"Your dog is beautiful" I quickly stammered from across the street.
She gave me a faint smile as she exited the plot and closed the gate behind her and the dog.
"Hey buddy, what's up?" I said in a high-pitch to this curious canine. He stared back at me. Many middle and upper class families in the area own various well-groomed dogs. For instance, the house adjacent to my building, shrouded in a combination of well placed plants and architectural features, houses a large German Shepard. And when I mean large, I mean his head comes up to my waist, if not a little higher. His bark is quite loud too and he doesn't seem to friendly.

So I tried being friendly to this dog, while keeping myself on guard if he was in fact a true guard-dog. "What's his name?" I asked the lady, hoping she spoke English. In an almost perfect accent back she said "Nike".

"Come here Nike! C'mon it's okay." The dog trotted over towards me and stopped some 5 feet away. "It's okay, it's okay" I told her. She got low to the ground and it became obvious that this was a playful dog, her submissiveness was more than obvious. The dog-owner began to smile as Nike came over into my arms and I started petting her head and under her jaw. Nike closed her eyes as I got behind her ears. I wonder how often someone played with Nike, I've never seen kids enter or exit the house.

I try everyday to encounter Nike outside, but since that day have always missed her. It's funny to think that such a nice household, so well manicured, with so much (apparent) money, could live next to conditions that, coming from America, I would say are unacceptable.

That gate is where the lady takes the dog. To the left, you can see the empty lot and all the black trash that is piled there.

The streets near and around my house are littered. It seems that you can't get away from them. It's a good idea to carry a handkerchief, especially in the morning as these are the times when most people are burning the trash. Open lots scatter the junctions of roads. Sometimes over ridden by weeds, such as tulsi (which is holy), and always a lot of Castor plants. Some vines that look like potato vines, and small flowers. But always trash. Always trash, and always burning. Sometimes these lots are green and full of bright, amazing life. Bugs and snakes crawl and climb, weaving their way through plants - the way life should be. It's when I see a mouse pulling in a piece of plastic into his little home that I begin to grow concerned.

Sometimes the leaves are grey with soot. Soot from everywhere. From the cars, rickshaws, the burning trash. And waking up in the morning, smelling the smoke, and even noticing that your bathroom is a little smokey - it doesn't exactly leave you excited to start your day. If you look past that, there is a lot of beauty in India - everyone always says that. It can just be difficult looking past the ugly parts. What's more, is that when we succeed to look past the ugly parts to see the beauty... well that doesn't mean the ugly goes away. Maybe just a big plastic barrel at every corner would change people's minds to littering. We'll see....

Some open lots have lots of tarps and branches holding up these tarps. Many homeless live here. Legally? Probably not, but I've never seen the police come and beat them and kick them out. At night I see some sleeping outside, some in their tents, but as simply as that, it is their home. When I walk by they are always cleaning dishes, or taking showers, and more. I could go on, but they do the same things we do everyday! They are no different. Except they have no money, no opportunities, are put down by the rest of society....

Do we just keep looking past the ugly to see the beauty?

Okay, enough pessimism. As I walk down one street towards Sultan Palya main road, the road begins to get narrow. As the road gets narrow, the streets get smaller and more people are doing their chores on the street. The other part of the observation is that as the streets gets smaller with more people, the income of each of the households I pass also falls. Culinary and medicinal plants begin to show up on door steps, from tulsi and aloe, to small curry leaf plants and more. The eyes also begin to watch me more. Looking at my t-shirt, at my phone, at my bag. I've gotten used to the staring, and for the most part ignore it, but when that one persons holds sight of you... from 30 feet before you pass them to 30 feet after you're gone and you know they are still looking at you. It's hard to read them, and who knows what they are thinking.

Most of the roads are pretty similar. Some small, some large, poor and wealthy living side by side. Mercedes can cruise by with a scarred little boy with no shoes plays in the trash and dirt. It's sad to say that once walking around observing all the trash I saw some hypodermic needles sitting freely on the street. With the kids. And the dogs. And the rats.

I speak about what I see here in India. And what I see is a lot of trash and stuff of that nature. But don't get me wrong, I love it here. It's a beautiful place with tons of opportunities and a lot of lessons. Like I said, do we just look past the ugliness for the beauty? Or do we get rid of the ugly so that everyone can see the beauty?

I'm not sure, but I'll say this. Without the dirty, India would not be as beautiful.

Stay tuned next week for.... the next part in the series: The Apartment

The Lizards

Since I have stopped traveling and I am more settled, I have been finding it harder to write in the blog? With travel it was easy, there were always new landscapes, a new bus ride, always something new (for me) to describe.

Then I spoke with my parents on the phone yesterday, and they made a good point. What I experience day to day, while it becomes mundane to me, is still interesting and new to (at least them) people back home.

And then I thought... at least twice a week I'm on the public bus. Always the same route, but it's always a new experience. At least once a day I'm walking up and down K.H.B. Again, always the same street, but always a new experience. So I'm going to try and write less, more often, and hopefully my experiences I convey to you are still as interesting, and with as much enthusiasm as my first 2 months in India.

I'll start with the lizards. I guess it's that time of year. Or perhaps just this batch of lizards was born. Yesterday, I went into the kitchen, turned on the light and saw something move quickly by the sink. Not a cockroach, it wasn't the right color. It definitely wasn't a mouse, it was way too small. I go to the faucet to investigate, and the smallest of lizards is sitting there staring at me.

I slowly move my hand towards him, and he already seems to know my intentions (quite a thing to say about a small lizard, so we can change that to his instincts), and he runs away. After some maneuvering around the kitchen, I cup my hand around him, pinning his tail. I slowly move my hand away and with the other pick him up. He's agitated, and he wants to run away, but after some time he sits calmly in the palm of my hand. When they are this small, they are hard to catch. These baby lizards aren't more than an inch or two long, but as they grow they can be up to 6 or 7 inches long, catch prey (such as moths) twice their size.

As I brought him into the light and observed, I could see his small, black, baby eyes. His tan colored skin, with still unformed markings on the back. As I looked more closely, there seemed to be some sort of discoloration on one side of his body. A bruise? Doesn't seem likely. As I looked even closer to the details, I noticed even small spots of discoloration. Then I realized what I was seeing - those were the little guy's organs. The pigment in his skin had barely even formed yet and I could still see all his innards working away as they normally do.

To think, this little guy is running around the apartment, just barely born. He couldn't have been more than a day old with that kind of body, but then again, I know nothing of lizard development. Still, the dangers in a small apartment. A mouse, a cockroach, a giant human, a hot stove, a cup of water. Every step this little dude takes is a precarious one.

At least he is quick....

Another quick story: Having some pain in my abdomen, I was fervently searching the internet (half out of boredom, half curiosity) for causes, or what it could be. After opening a lot of tabs, searching websites, and coming up with inconclusive answers (that also varied greatly), I was hoping for something and got nothing. And nothing. More clicking, and still nothing. Finally I got to a website that just wouldn't load. Refresh, Refresh, Refresh and just a blank page. At the bottom, the browser said "done". But nothing would load! There had to be an error. Then I looked at the domain name and it was called "www.nomorepanic.co.uk".

Then the irony hit me. I laughed for a few minutes and went on to do some other work.

Some pictures

Okay, while this is a post of pictures, I realized I haven't written in a while... fear not - some writing comes soon! Since I am constantly at a computer, I am going to try and write less, more often. And if I don't....bother me! Anyway... here you go....

Don't mind the quality of some... they were taken on my camera phone.

Sultan Palya Main Road - the road parallel to K.H.B Main Road which is where my apartment is.

This is the road that connects K.H.B Main Road and Sultan Palya Main Road... this is looking towards Sultan Palya Main Road.

At the end of my road (K.H.B) this is called Dinnur Main Road. If you exit my street and make a right, you will see this sight. From here, if you go straight and make another right, that will be Sultan Palya main road. Are you making a map in your head yet?

Another sight of Dinnur Main Road. To the right of this picture is K.H.B Main Road....

Ah, K.H.B! This is my road, but not very close to my house. If you look you can see how the road ends at a T intersection... that is Dinnur Main Road. So if you were to take a right, you would see the two pictures above this one.

Another site of K.H.B, a little further back from the above one.

My first Chinese dish in India - home cooked veg noodles.

Plain Rice, Chapati (Indian flat bread) and a Palya. A palya is more or less a mix of vegetables systematically cooked with oil, onions and various spices. Spices can always vary, but the most basic ingredient (and quite healthy) is turmeric (which turns everything yellow). In this palya, I cooked cabbage and carrot.

Before moving onto the next picture, I remember a conversation I had over dinner before leaving for India. Or perhaps lunch. But the subject was life expectancy in India. All of us guessed various answers, from 35 all the way to 65. As poor as the rest of the world might think India is, (I'll argue against that in another entry, you should see the amount of money the middle and upper classes have here in Bangalore) the truth is, the life expectancy is quite high. Norman Jr. did some research, and the average life-expectancy turned out to be closer to 55-60.

What does this have to do with anything in the middle of pictures of food? Well, the big thing they tote (both in person and on the internet) about the yellow turmeric powder is it's medicinal anti-aging properties. It is said to be very good for your cells, bones, and immune system. Some warm milk with turmeric mixed in is said to be a great, easy cure for a common cold.Anyway, interpret it as you will - India will always hold strong to turmeric.

Now obviously turmeric is not the SOLE cause for a longer life, India has some great hospitals, lots of medicine available, and a wide range of doctors from traditional western doctors, to homeopathic doctors and even the traditional ayurvedic doctors. All of it together plays apart in living a longer life in India.

Ah, breakfast! Chapati, with Indian scrambled eggs (refer to Ballarshah post). Onions, turmeric, chili powder, onions, and eggs.... on top of being delicious, it wakes you up in the morning!.

Oh this is a change. This is what looks like a juice box. In fact it is a juice box... only it's adult juice. See McDowell's on the package? That's a type of whiskey. I never tried whiskey out of a juice box, but it seems to be a convenient, easy way to drink for some here.

A crowded bus... taken with my camera phone.

Ah... aloo and capsicum. In English -potato and pepper curry. See, everyone thinks Indian cooking is very complicated, confusing and hard to make. But it all starts with oil and onions. Then some spices, some vegetables. It all depends on the timing of when you put in the vegetables (since they all cook at different rates). Anyway, another delicious meal.

Besides taste, my gauge has been this - if I get heartburn, it was a good enough meal. If I get heartburn - I did something wrong....

Haha, this is great. The guys next door to us moved out. So the landlord obviously wants to rent out the apartment. And this is the sign. John had thought about moving into the bigger apartment - but being a meat eater, wasn't allowed. Only in India, right?

Tomato Gojju! Thanks to Gowri for giving me this recipe, it could also be called Tomato curry. I just forgot to add the jaggery.....

This is also great, this is the Varanashi's (Gowri and Siri's) mail box right outside their gate. Varanashi, the family name all the way to the left. The address on the next piece of metal. A box for letters. And a box for packets of milk. Instead of going out to buy milk every morning (as I do everyday) you can have the option to have a certain number of packets delivered right to your mailbox every morning.

Nothing better than the paper and a packet of milk.

The other language on the mailbox is Kannada.

Writing.... coming soon!

Ah, one more picture, as requested by the parents. They wanted to see me with my hair chopped off - sorry the picture is fuzzy, camera phone again!

I just had to add this one. Hahaha.

Myself, Aishwarya and Natasha on Natasha's birthday this past week.