The day had every necessary ingredient for perfection, my style of perfection:  inclement weather, perceived danger that never materializes, real danger narrowly avoided, precarious situations and exotic locales.   Welcome to the Team Outing for Fall 2007.   The place: Pullicat Lake, 40 km north of Chennai.

The planning was excellent.  We brought in a knowledgeable agent to make the arrangements.  We had a meeting to discuss the particulars and raise any questions.  I, the all-wise risk identifier asked “What if it rains?”   The agents reply “No problem, we will bring tents”.

It was supposed to be a family outing, but Abby and Max were sick and that forced Amy to stay home.  Sarah was just reluctant enough to back out at the last minute.  That left Joshua as my travel companion for the day.   We packed pretty well, hats and jackets and tripod camp chairs.   We arrived at the office just before the 8:00 AM deadline (just like the projects my team delivers, always on time).

The promised big bus was replaced with a jeep and a van.  We took a seat in the jeep and headed off across Chennai to pick up others, finally stopping at a small restaurant for breakfast.

I have to stop the narrative and share a little secret reference shared between Joshua and I.   Some months ago we watched a documentary on Discovery Channel about training for Special Forces soldiers.   Part of the training involved an exercise in meeting a local leader and winning their support for your mission.   To make the training realistic or traumatic (or both) the soldiers were served disgusting food such as rotten fruit and cow eyeballs.   It was explained that you had to eat or offend your host.  If you “flinched” and refused to eat you would fail the test.  If you couldn’t handle that kind of thing you would be sent back home.   I reminded Joshua of this and now I can have fun at his expense by asking if he is about to flinch.

Back to the main story.   We stop at this little restaurant and order dosas.   Joshua doesn’t flinch.   Didn’t eat the chutney, and didn’t ask for seconds.

I have to stop the story again and issue this clarification:  I DO NOT think that Indian food is on the same level as cow eyeballs and rotten fruit.  Our flinching reference is to food that is perceived to result in digestive problems or is spicy enough to make you cry like a baby (or both).    Joshua has heard many warnings about eating food that is not properly prepared or is stored and prepared in an unhygienic environment.   Flinching is the equivalent to me daring him to eat something when his instincts tell him otherwise.   Or, to put it another way, to not flinch is to trust my instincts more than his.  

Anyway, when we left the restaurant it was pouring rain.   Didn’t really stop us or anyone else.  Those on motorcycles put plastic bags on their heads, or had one of their passengers open an umbrella.

Pullicat Lake is a shallow lake that is separated by the Bay of Bengal by a narrow strip of land.   It is the second largest lake in India, after the similar Chilika Lake in Orissa.   I had a wonderful trip to Chilika on my first India trip and kind of knew what to expect (dodgy boats, shallow lakes, a few wild animals).

We drove right to the water’s edge and summoned up enough courage to climb into a small boat with that was barely able to hold all 15 of us.    Our brave skipper fired up the lawn-mower engine rigged to a propeller on a long pole and we rumbled out onto the lake.  

Skipper is standing the right.  Wanna-be skipper is standing on the left ;)

Our fears of drowning lessened substantially when local boys and fishermen proved you could wade across the lake.

We arrived at the narrow island or peninsula that separates the lake from the ocean.   The government or someone had planted trees in perfect order, most likely as prevention against erosion.      Josh was having a great time and took off running into the forest.

We approached the islands from the west, the rains from the east.  We were soon dripping wet.   Luckily they kept their word and had brought tents.

We survived this and relaxed on the beach.   I had my first close to real cricket experience while Joshua roamed around and chased waves on the beach.

The tour guides hauled in lunch on a large crate suspended from a bamboo pole and Joshua impressed me again by not flinching, mostly.   Neither of us could finish the huge portion.   But we made a valiant attempt and after some of the others with us emptied their plates out on the ground, we did also.  (did I mention this was a team outing and we were with 15 people from my company?)

We packed up and headed back to the boats.  This time our destination was a bird sanctuary on the north side of the lake.   The storms came back and by the time we got to the place where the lake joins the ocean we could see 2 foot waves cresting.   As our boat was resting much lower in the water the skipper turned around.   We headed back along the other side (inland or west side) of the lake.  We got stuck a couple of times.  The second I jumped out of the boat and helped the skipper push the boat over a sandbar.   The wind, rain, rough seas, overloaded boat and running aground were all seeds for the imagination.  This could easily be the start of Robinson Caruso or Gilligan’s Island.   In the end, they were ingredients for danger that never was, just a much more exciting day than relaxing on the beach.

My pants are wet from jumping out of the boat.  Not a very deep lake.

We reloaded the van and jeep and headed for home.   Joshua and I switched to the van.   Where the jeep had been driven by a 30 something “professional driver” who was actually very good, the van was driven by some kid who was not so good.     Roads in India, especially rural roads are narrow.   Maybe the kid didn’t realize that.   Maybe he didn’t realize that the dirt past the edge of the pavement gets really soft when soaked with rain, maybe he hasn’t learned that bus drivers in India are all Rakshasa, descended from the evil demon king Ravana.   The real danger narrowly avoided was that the van didn’t roll into a rice paddy when the kid tried to pass a government bus on a narrow road just before a bridge.

I think the differential hitting the pavement is what kept us from rolling.

A couple hours of comedy later (get 10 men pondering how to unstuck a van from the mud in the middle of the night and you end up with either comedy or a fist-fight) a farmer used his tractor to pull us out of the mud.   The kid then drove annoyingly slow and cautious all the way back to Chennai.

The people who organized this trip may have thought I was upset or disappointed.  Quite the contrary.   If it had all gone according to plan I would not have enjoyed it nearly as much.

The rains have come to Chennai. The first night in waves heavy then light, every few seconds. I yelled for the driver and we drove off to buy extra diesel for the generator. The rain gave us a shimmering light show by reflecting the headlights back at us. He turned them to dim and drove in the dark. The rain is present in all your senses. The smell is not the salty desert rain, instead subtracting the dust and exhaust and leaving a fresh, clean sweetness.

Last night the rains hit Chennai proper, but spared us on the outskirts. Instead we had partly cloudy skies. About midnight I walked out on the terrace. The quarter moon was rising over the ocean to the left of Orion.  There was just enough light to see the waves cresting on the beach. I was distracted by what first appeared to be a silvery thread drifting in the wind, but was instead a formation of birds heading south towards summer.

Shawn

I wonder what my driver must think of me when he explains the obvious.  Just now we were driving past a big construction project (Kathipari Junction, aka "The Traffic Circle of Doom").  Up to our left a crew of construction workers were pounding on the forms running along the edge of a new section of elevated highway.  My driver, Gabriel, proceeds to explain that the metal holds the concrete until it is dry and they have to take the forms off after that.

Maybe he thinks I am so wealthy and important that I have never stooped to consider the basics of construction. Maybe he thinks that in America we don't use concrete.

Or maybe he just thinks I am an idiot.  In any case, when we were solving the problem of how to get the diesel fuel from the 50 liter gas can into the generator tank it was him spitting diesel fuel while trying to start a siphon, refusing to accept my idea of using a funnel.  

I shouldn't be so harsh, after all I now know what concrete is, how electrical switches work and that they won't put water in the pool until that concrete is dry and that you can adopt a dog off the street instead of paying for one.

Shawn

My driver explained that "this is the one day when the people who work in factory take time to clean".
Judging from some of the factories and workshops I have seen that sounds about right, maybe a bit optimistic.  At the office today most of the women were wearing nice saris and there were decorations up. Too busy to ask why.

I will see if I can get a picture of an autorickshaw with a couple of huge banana branches strapped on the front.

Since most of my weapons are in storage in Arizona I will spend the afternoon defragging my hard drive.

The better explanation is from wikipedia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dasara).

Ayudha puja: This day is to worship weapons. People in the modern days worship automobiles, their machines on this day.'Weapons' have been replaced with 'tools of the trade'. So people worship carpentry tools, computers, vehicles, cooking utensils etc etc



Shawn

In looking back through my last few posts, you may get the impression that I am frustrated, angry, or uncomfortable with India.   Rest assured that is not the case.   I learned a long time ago (back in Shiliguri) that you have to have plenty of patience or India will wear you down quickly.   So despite many problems and setbacks I and my family are doing very well and are very happy to be here.  In fact, India itself is causing far less stress than the Dilbertesque problems my wonderful employer is throwing at me.   I wish I felt comfortable relating these problems, because that would be more interesting than my tales of the mundane.

We are also very excited to be on the verge of two big milestones.   Tomorrow I expect to take a lease on a car, with a driver we are very comfortable with.   Also, tomorrow we start moving into the house.   Tomorrow night is our last night in the hotel.  

I have been searching online for some explanation of a slightly annoying practice that is affecting Abby and Max.   The Cheek Pinch.

"Indians often use this gesture with children as a sign of affection."  From a useful page that answers several questions about Indian culture and practices.

"Kendra names Mumbai, Pinch-Cheek City. Because everywhere she and Cleo go they get an affectionate, but very firm, pinch on the cheek. Indians love children, as staunchly as the British frown upon them."  Not much of an explanation for the practice, but an interesting read.

"Travel with two young blond children attracts a lot of attention. This is in general not meant in an unfriendly way, but at times it would get a bit annoying for the kids. What was really a nuisance is everybody trying to pinch the kids in the cheek. “NO PINCHING” were English words Frank and Marit learned really quickly. Mum and dad would support this by warning of the attacks and by pinching back if necessary. The kids also didn’t like posing for photographs."  The pattern continues, foreigners taking kids to India who file this under ANNOYANCES. 

"If I pinch your cheek and that hurts you, I won't question WHY it hurts you and try to convince you that it shouldn't, that it's silly, will I? I'll just accept that it does hurt you (or perhaps even offend you), and perhaps will try not to do it again. "  This is no explanation at all, and takes us close enough to Godwin's Law that I will give up.

Therefore, I leave it to you, my dear readers who have far more knowledge about India than I to explain this annoying practice to me in the comments.   As I have learned (and still get reminded frequently) that in India, you have to take all things in stride.   Maybe a compromise will be to tolerate pinches that do not bruise and get upset about a practice far worse: strangers that put my kids hands in their mouths, especially Max because he sucks his thumb. 

Maybe the solution is to buy some T-shirts for the kdis that say "enna thodaathE!"