Found an interesting video on YouTube.

Crossing the roads is like that.   I have done it a number of times holding Max or Abby or a bunch of bags.  Not fun, but no other way to get across.

I upgraded my mobile phone on Friday to a new model (Motorola SLVR L9) that supports GPRS data connections.  This provides us with Internet access at home.   It works at speeds comparable to the modem connections I thought were slow 15 years ago.  But it is a connection.    Hopefully this will allow me to post more than I have been.   It will be a couple more months until BSNL (the government phone company) gets us setup with a high speed connection.

I have received some feedback that you would like me to post more about what is going on with Amy and the kids.   I will post more, especially about Abby and Max, since they can't form a coherent objection to my posts.  As for Joshua and Sarah, I defer to the old adage that "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all".  In short, they are not too happy here.   Especially Sarah.   I am truly realizing how much of her 11 year old outlook is based on friends, especially some very good friends she left back in Arizona.   From her perspective I have taken her away from everything important and taken her to a place that has absolutely nothing to offer her.  She is not interested in adventure or cultural experiences and does not appreciate the lessons in gratitude and service we are hoping for.   For Sarah, and to a bit lesser extent Joshua, India is nothing more than a bad experience that can't end soon enough.

Amy and I are trying really hard on our new tactic of making it seem more like home.   We are trying to make home more enjoyable and give them more positive experiences.  This means we are not pushing them to try Indian food or other experiences.  We just want them to be comfortable at home and school.   We know that this is a prerequisite to appreciating India and/or enjoying the experience.  

We did foresee this as a risk, and some of you may wonder how I could be oblivious to this being the biggest problem we would encounter.  Truth is I did think this would be our biggest problem.   I thought we would be over it by now.   We are each in our own way trying to make our way through this.   I know that each of the kids will look back and appreciate their time here.  For some it may be many years from now.   Even for me the career risks and opportunities are far from certain.   I have no promise of any promotion or advance as a result of this, I expect the benefits to be ammortized over the rest of my career, hoping for opportunities opening up somewhere in the future as a result of this.   I really hope the kids will look back on this episode of their lives and say "I really hated it at first, but I am really glad we did it." 

I know that I have many supporters who will read this and want to help make it better.   I appreciate your willingness to go to great effort on our behalf.   I am not writing this as an appeal for help, just a desire to share the various challenges and experiences of our time in India.

Thanks,

Shawn

One final note.   Some have requested our mailing address, it is:

No. 11 Sea Cliff Conclave
III Drive
Akkarai, ECR, Chennai 600 119
INDIA

My email is shawnswaner AT gmail dot com

It has been a while since I posted.   I spent a long week in the US, working in Los Angeles.   My last afternoon there was spent frantically filling my suitcases with things that are impossible to get in India.   7 bricks of Tillamook, wet-wipes, a new charger for my cordless drill and saw (to replace the one I fried by accidently plugging it into a 220v outlet), soup, weather strip, caulking and a multi-meter.

That was 8 days ago.  While I was away Amy and the kids were suffering through the latest round of Murphy's Law nightmare.   We have been here for about 75 days and it seems there have been 75 disasters or problems to deal with.   The latest happened on Friday as I was leaving the US.   The city power (called "EB Power", EB stands for Electrical Board) failed.   The generator was turned on and major problems ensued.   One third of the house went dark.   Equipment in the rest of the house started going up in smoke.   Over the next 72 hours the casualty list would total the following:

• Washing Machine - Dead.
• Microwave - Dead
• Power Cord/Brick for Josh's laptop - Dead
• Amy's Printer - Dead
• Speakers for my PC - Dead
• Fan in Josh's bathroom - Dead

 A number of lights also died.   Most of the items listed above were destroyed when we plugged them in not realizing there was a problem.   On Sunday night the lights in some parts of the house were dim, barely on.  In other parts the lights were brighter then they ever had been, the ceiling fans spinning madly as if they were about to tear themselves out of their sockets.

Sometime during the night we smelled the smoke of burning electrical wires and everything went dark.  At the time we were on generator power, the EB power had failed sometime before.   The next morning i called the landlord and was very emphatic that these problems needed to be fixed immediately or we would be leaving, regardless of the terms of the lease.   I wasn't angry or rude, but Josh remarked after that I "gave Reginald the beatdown".   It worked.  The next day a group of electicians showed up.  In addition to the normal losers who would show up without tools, stand around scratching themselves then leave, he sent a guy who was obviously "the man".   He had a box full of tools, carefully checked out each part of the electrical system, then gathered the rest around and issued instructions.   They pulled out and replaced meters of wires inside the walls, and meticulously tested each circuit.

At one point there was an argument outside the front door.  I went out and asked for a translation (which is one of the more futile requests to make in this country.  All you get is a very short synopsis that is mostly a suggestion from the translator to what you should say in response).   In short, the 2 electricians from the generator company were leaving, saying that the generator was working fine.   The main electrician was saying that it wasn't.   At that time we were on generator power.  I had bought a multi-meter while in the US.  I turned around and plugged it into the outlet by the front door.

It should read 220 volts.   The generator electricians don't understand much english, but the seemed to understand "Don't go, fix generator", or they could read the obvious anger on the faces of me and the master electrician.

Some hours later we had the generator fixed.  The problem is that 2 of the 3 circuits were getting crossed in the house, creating 330volts on some circuits and 65-100 volts on others.   Both conditions are very bad for electronics.    The generator had a similar problem in that one of the circuits wasn't properly grounded.

For good measure the EB sent out three men to redo the connection from our house wiring to the power pole on the street.   They were explaining how they would have to come back later in the week when the EB power went out.   They had a short conversation and decided that since the power was out they could do the work now.    I asked one of them how they knew the power wouldn't come back on.   He replied that he didn't think it would, but "that would be bad".

The EB man climbed the pole barefoot with a stick in is mouth.  Tied to the stick was a rope that he tied around the pole so that he could stand on the stick.   He then wrapped the rest of the rope around the pole and around his waist, leaning back to tension the line.

He then disconnected the wires connecting our house to each of the three circuits and replaced them by wrapping them with new aluminum wires, the wires were only new in this use, the other EB man stripped a scrap of wire to recycle the aluminum wire.  

That was 5 days ago.  Since all this activity the electricity has worked flawlessly.   Hopefully we are past that hurdle and ready for the inevitable next problem.  We have been without a washing machine for a week, that is the next goal, to get the repair man out to have a look at it.   We are running out of clean clothes....

A year ago tonight I was with Harish in Kolkata riding around on his motorcycle watching fireworks. Tonight I rode to the airport under the flickering light of continual fireworks.  The city is lit up with strings of lights. The abundance of lights and decorations reminds me of the small towns I grew up in or maybe a movie memory of a 1950's Christmas where they went all out on lights and decorations. 

Diwali is like Christmas and American Independance Day wrapped together. Lights, treats, gifts and fireworks.  It is a magical time and next year I need to stay put and enjoy it.

You can buy cheap (in both senses of the word) and huge fireworks everywhere here. They are on the scale approaching what a small town would buy in the US for their 4th of July Extravaganza.  It is another "India Moment" to see a 6 year old clutching a roman candle big enough to earn a felony conviction in the US.  Worse is when you see the kids crowding around these explosives with a book of matches.

Needless to say we had our fun as well. A certain 13 year old pyromaniac in our family has been loving it.  And I am just crazy enough to indulge him with 50lbs of rockets and firecrackers.

Our driver is insistent that good Christians shouldn't celebrate Diwali. I couldn't even begin to explain the religious background of the holiday, but I am not going to pass up such a good reason to be cheerful, eat sweets, hand out gifts and light fireworks.

I am on my way back to the US for a week. For most of the last 8 weeks we have been in India I have been looking forward to this trip, but the actual leaving was as hard and unwelcome as leaving home in years past for business trips. I guess home really is where the heart is.

From Kuala Lumpor -- Happy Diwali,

Shawn

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.