21 January 2010. I fell asleep wondering if the cab Brent had reserved would show up, since, allegedly nothing happens early in Indian culture. The alarm went off at 3:30 a.m. (LM accidentally set it to Nashville time). We left the flat at 4:45 and nearly tripped over the security men sleeping in the courtyard between the residents' cars. We were appalled.
"They get to sleep on cots," Melinda whispered (in other words, they would be sleeping on the street if not on a comfortable cot).
I was already growing attached to Sing-gee, who hovered over us like a kindly father and watched over the children when they played downstairs. Like soldiers, he and his partner opened the gate as the building residents came and went . . . and he served as the (singing) priest of the small shrine in the courtyard (more on that in another post). They jumped up from their sleep to help cram our bags into the waiting cab across the street. The driver was asleep on the back seat, as many taxi drivers live in their cabs.
When we entered the walled compound, the first thing we saw was a giant, colorful flying . . . some creature . . . all of us must have been so taken back that none of the six sets of pictures captured it! There would be hundreds bizarre statues and murals on the massive grounds. Once we got out of the bus and rolled our bags to our garden rooms, we had seen the beautiful and garrish side of this place.
The room. Upon first glance we saw a large, open space that would work fine for the kids, white tile floors, two twin beds, a couch, desk, two end tables, a short turquoise fridge. The small, wall mounted, flat screen TV (despite nothing in English), two ceiling fans and an AC unit with remote control seemed luxurious. Romantic push-out windows made the cool winter breeze feel exotic, but by dusk we realized that they also let in flies, mosquitoes and geckos.
I am not usually a neat-freak or germ-o-phobe but upon closer inspection, "not clean" was a huge understatement. Lynn Marie and I quickly assessed that the threadbare bed sheets were hung to dry outdoors and they had suspicious red marks all over them. I will admit that I do have some texture issues, and the blankets could have been in an American Revolution movie (scratchy TB carrying wool). Everything was so dusty that we wondered if it had been years since anyone had stayed there. We immediately tried to lower our expectation of "resort." Not wanting to show our ethnocentrism, we walked to a nearby store and bought all-purpose cleaner to wipe everything down. After all, we would be caring for ten children in our bedroom,
To summarize the RESORT part of the week, the last count of my bites was 48, including those found on my "elf" ears on the last morning. Curiously, I have ZERO bites anywhere else on my body, so we assume they bit me as I slept. This really took me back to girl scout camp in the Texas Piney Woods. Lynn Marie had less than five bites on her entire body, but I'm not bitter. Asha had as many as I did, though they didn't show much under her dark brown skin. She called us the "Oowie twins." How could I complain about that? After all, we hadn't come for a vacation, but to minister to the WMF Asia team by providing a fun and meaningful time for their children while the adults had their meetings. Those memories will be shared in the next chronicle.
"They get to sleep on cots," Melinda whispered (in other words, they would be sleeping on the street if not on a comfortable cot).
I was already growing attached to Sing-gee, who hovered over us like a kindly father and watched over the children when they played downstairs. Like soldiers, he and his partner opened the gate as the building residents came and went . . . and he served as the (singing) priest of the small shrine in the courtyard (more on that in another post). They jumped up from their sleep to help cram our bags into the waiting cab across the street. The driver was asleep on the back seat, as many taxi drivers live in their cabs.
Security! Once in the airport, it was a little embarrassing to be motioned to the front of the long security line like dignitaries. We had no idea why, and no one acted angry. Women and men were divided into different queues for security checks. Each person entered a curtained area to be scanned and patted down by very respectful person of their gender. On the other side of the terminal we met up with the other teams from Nepal and Thailand. Mostly in English we visited with new brothers and sisters, so our waiting time flew by quickly. It was so nice to have people in the know to lead us from taxi to terminal to bus to plane, etc. Our domestic flight gave no opportunity to complain (i.e. padded seats, bathrooms, jet engines) and I appreciated the couple of hours of quiet, to prepare for the rigors of the children's retreat we were about to lead.
Once we arrived in Chennai, we found our way to the large tour bus that that would carry us through the city to the beach resort where we would stay. Melinda had flown down to help make arrangements and we knew that the Bay of Bengal was too rough to safely swim in. We also heard that we would not be using the swimming pool. However, the pictures of the rooms looked simple but nice, and she described the grounds like this: to us they would look like abandoned medieval ruins, but most Indian people it would feel like Disneyworld. That was fine, because I already felt a little guilty that we were spending five days on the beach. After an enjoyable, windy, warm bus ride through the city, we abruptly turned into the Golden Beach Resort. . . the "Last Resort" we would come to say.
When we entered the walled compound, the first thing we saw was a giant, colorful flying . . . some creature . . . all of us must have been so taken back that none of the six sets of pictures captured it! There would be hundreds bizarre statues and murals on the massive grounds. Once we got out of the bus and rolled our bags to our garden rooms, we had seen the beautiful and garrish side of this place.
The room. Upon first glance we saw a large, open space that would work fine for the kids, white tile floors, two twin beds, a couch, desk, two end tables, a short turquoise fridge. The small, wall mounted, flat screen TV (despite nothing in English), two ceiling fans and an AC unit with remote control seemed luxurious. Romantic push-out windows made the cool winter breeze feel exotic, but by dusk we realized that they also let in flies, mosquitoes and geckos.
I am not usually a neat-freak or germ-o-phobe but upon closer inspection, "not clean" was a huge understatement. Lynn Marie and I quickly assessed that the threadbare bed sheets were hung to dry outdoors and they had suspicious red marks all over them. I will admit that I do have some texture issues, and the blankets could have been in an American Revolution movie (scratchy TB carrying wool). Everything was so dusty that we wondered if it had been years since anyone had stayed there. We immediately tried to lower our expectation of "resort." Not wanting to show our ethnocentrism, we walked to a nearby store and bought all-purpose cleaner to wipe everything down. After all, we would be caring for ten children in our bedroom,
The bathroom. I'll start with the positives. There was a somewhat western toilet; however, toilet paper was like GOLD around there. The shower was simply a curtain across the floor. The shower head worked, but the down low faucet and bucket seemed more functional. Above eye level on the outside wall, there was a slatted, open window without a screen. It let in every sound and thus, it let OUT every sound. Too late, we would realize that everyone else had screens over their slats. The mini water heater overhead had a switch to flip. My first shower was cold (not a bad thing) but LM discovered that BLUE was hot and enjoyed a warm one. Towels were also a precious commodity. We didn't get more than one and had no washcloths or hand towels, tissues or paper towels. Thankfully, we brought a roll of reusable cloth "handy wipes" for the kids and voila, we were back in business! The roll of fabric (think table cloth sized dishcloth) would be dipped in a bucket of water on the front porch to wash our feet entering the room each time.
Light switches. Once again, we were totally baffled by the multitudinous switches on every wall and could never remember which did what. Most didn't work at all. It would make a good sitcom to watch us cut the power entirely off or switch on Hindi TV or cut the power to every plug . . . this happened daily, hourly! We were sure the fridge and phone and AC were broken. The phone rang and rang, yet we couldn't get anyone to answer our calls. Then we assumed they were ignoring the room with the demanding western women . . . we would flag down every young man who came near our room.
"Our phone is not working."
"We have no water (no, not refilled bottles without sealed lids)"
"Could we please have toilet paper . . . towels . . . a BROOM?" (no broomsick, just long branches tied together like a whisk). We even offered to pay a lady sweeping the sidewalk, but she just shook her head when we waved Rupees and motioned her to come inside.
"Our phone is not working."
"We have no water (no, not refilled bottles without sealed lids)"
"Could we please have toilet paper . . . towels . . . a BROOM?" (no broomsick, just long branches tied together like a whisk). We even offered to pay a lady sweeping the sidewalk, but she just shook her head when we waved Rupees and motioned her to come inside.
Be Positive. The doorbell had the sweetest chirping sound. The refrigerator actually got cold when we discovered the right switch. The light bulbs were compact flourescent (though the staff seemed miffed that we wished for all of them to work). We finally got a new phone--it was broken--but still, no answer when we called for assistance . . . EVER.
Private time. When I finally had time to journal a day or two later, I wrote: "Just finished a cup of Nescafe with two sugars to kill the taste. It's delivered each morning at 7:00, but don't get the wrong idea about where we are--it's a cross between Gilligan's Island and Camp Arnold for Girl Scouts. Mosquito nets would have been a good idea, because they completely ate my face the first night. I woke up to about ten flat, dark purple dots across my cheekbones--they don't really itch but they don't easily cover, either. No one else seems to have a bite. Last night I tried to cover my head with my Sari Bari blanket, but it was hard to breathe unless I held it up like a tent (not good for sleeping). I put bug cream on my face, so I only saw one little new one on my neck. Glad to have our $8.50 each malaria pills--I will try to buy 14 more at the chemist shop when we get back to Kolkata."
The food. We were a little worried about eating in Chennai because we wouldn't have much control over the menu. Even the staffers were expecting it to be awful. The hotel staff planned our meals and served us in a special dining room. Especially LM had big concerns about her history of stomach problems with American food. She never got sick--way to pray, partners--and was such a good sport, never complaining or expecting special treatment. We had great bananas, apples and huge tangerines almost every day. We just added a few protein bars, dry cereal and peanut butter to fill in the gaps. We were able to enjoy something of each meal, though it was not my preferred style. Our Bengali and Nepali friends didn't like the saucy, spicy screaming taste either.
Each morning, breakfast was at 9:00. I enjoyed the big, rectangle-shaped white toast with red jam and butter with a flat thin egg "patty." I kept putting a cake "donut" on my plate, expecting something sweet . . . nope, never. I wasn't sad to say goodbye to the lunches or dinners . . . everything had sauce the consistency of chili and it was starch-city with all the nan, rice and puffed bread . . . then "BEEF" (assuming that non-Hindus would crave it they kept pushing it on us). We were sad to pass up fruit plates and raw veggies but followed Dr. Brent's advice. I did love the little spicy fried green beans and chicken "bones", which thrilled our pushy buffet host .The best were little strawberry ice cream cups, so soothing to our screaming palates and our yellow stained fingers (when in Rome . . . ).
Each morning, breakfast was at 9:00. I enjoyed the big, rectangle-shaped white toast with red jam and butter with a flat thin egg "patty." I kept putting a cake "donut" on my plate, expecting something sweet . . . nope, never. I wasn't sad to say goodbye to the lunches or dinners . . . everything had sauce the consistency of chili and it was starch-city with all the nan, rice and puffed bread . . . then "BEEF" (assuming that non-Hindus would crave it they kept pushing it on us). We were sad to pass up fruit plates and raw veggies but followed Dr. Brent's advice. I did love the little spicy fried green beans and chicken "bones", which thrilled our pushy buffet host .The best were little strawberry ice cream cups, so soothing to our screaming palates and our yellow stained fingers (when in Rome . . . ).
Excursion. Our last full day offered us the longest block of free time. I didn't want to spend it setting up for another kid's session or collapsing for a quick nap so I joined the group at an amusement park that adjoined the resort.
We had free tickets to get in, but it was quite an ordeal to walk there, stand in line, trade the tickets for entry passes, get our bags searched for cameras (10 rupees/20 cents) to take photos in the park. Oh Brother, even in India.
The whole resort looked like a set from "Survivor" or a run down Six Flags over India. The whole resort had the craziest statues and structures, almost in ruins from lack of maintenance, yet magnificent in dramatic effect. It was obvious that at one time, these grounds were luxurious. At the park there were some pretty fun rides between stretches of closed ones. They wouldn't turn on a ride until a line formed, so it was hard to know what to do next. They had the standard log ride and ferris wheel and we chose to ignore the unregulated feel of the place. It was so much fun to ride the kids' rides with Anna since Brent and Melinda didn't do "round and round". Asha, on the other hand, had her fill after one or two rides and would not consider boarding the ferris wheel with her family. "As I said before, I am riding NOTHING" she lisped, so I stayed behind with her. Too bad for us, they said the view of all the murals and gods was wonderful!
We had free tickets to get in, but it was quite an ordeal to walk there, stand in line, trade the tickets for entry passes, get our bags searched for cameras (10 rupees/20 cents) to take photos in the park. Oh Brother, even in India.
The whole resort looked like a set from "Survivor" or a run down Six Flags over India. The whole resort had the craziest statues and structures, almost in ruins from lack of maintenance, yet magnificent in dramatic effect. It was obvious that at one time, these grounds were luxurious. At the park there were some pretty fun rides between stretches of closed ones. They wouldn't turn on a ride until a line formed, so it was hard to know what to do next. They had the standard log ride and ferris wheel and we chose to ignore the unregulated feel of the place. It was so much fun to ride the kids' rides with Anna since Brent and Melinda didn't do "round and round". Asha, on the other hand, had her fill after one or two rides and would not consider boarding the ferris wheel with her family. "As I said before, I am riding NOTHING" she lisped, so I stayed behind with her. Too bad for us, they said the view of all the murals and gods was wonderful!
After all the winter heat we could take, we walked to a Gelatorium and enjoyed a fabulous chocolate speciale gelato in the air conditioning (until the power went out). I probably downed two to four 2-liter bottles of water each day, yet my feet stayed swollen from the heat and sodium. That didn't keep us from walking on the beach later that afternoon. Remember, this was a beach resort.
It was nice to feel fine GOLDEN sand on our bare feet, but our walks required constant watchfulness to avoid tons of trash all over the beach (no trash cans). The Bay of Bengal (Indian Ocean) was grey-black with very strong currents. The Indian women were fully clothed in their long saris, not one female wore a swimsuit; however, we saw several men's rear ends as they peed in the ocean, dropped their longhi skirts to poop in the green dune grass or lifted them up to rinse off the sand and salt. . . but the skies and waves were so beautiful and relaxing that we just laughed at each collision with culture.
It was nice to feel fine GOLDEN sand on our bare feet, but our walks required constant watchfulness to avoid tons of trash all over the beach (no trash cans). The Bay of Bengal (Indian Ocean) was grey-black with very strong currents. The Indian women were fully clothed in their long saris, not one female wore a swimsuit; however, we saw several men's rear ends as they peed in the ocean, dropped their longhi skirts to poop in the green dune grass or lifted them up to rinse off the sand and salt. . . but the skies and waves were so beautiful and relaxing that we just laughed at each collision with culture.
Checkout. The last morning I wrote: "Last day in Chennai. Last night I was so glad to see 10:00 on my clock as I turned off the light, for I've come to dread sleeping the last two nights. My face has been eaten by mosquitoes--the final count seems to be 43-- 39 on my face and 4 on my neck. I've slept lightly every night, a twilight sleep, and last night was harder because it was so hot (LM freezes if the AC is on because it blows directly on her) and my Sari Bari now smells like DEET. Jumped right up in the early hours at the thought that I wouldn't have to sleep in this bed again! The pillowcase pulled back a little and I saw thatbthe rock-hard pillow was moldy green . . . enough! I enjoyed a bucket bath with warm water now that I know the trick."
Actually, we hated to say goodbye to the lovely green manicured spaces, the palm trees, pods and coconuts; the ladies in saris sweeping the drives and sidewalks with reed brooms; the bizarre statues of robots, Khan-like soldiers, flying cows (that is what was at the entrance gate), giant elephants, dinosaurs, chariots and various gods (including Jesus); the colorful laundry hanging to dry (I was right, our towels were dried on clothes lines, no wonder they were a little crunchy . . . but not the sheets. They were laid out to dry on the grassy area outside our window. The red dots? Mosquito blood. Guhl . . .
To summarize the RESORT part of the week, the last count of my bites was 48, including those found on my "elf" ears on the last morning. Curiously, I have ZERO bites anywhere else on my body, so we assume they bit me as I slept. This really took me back to girl scout camp in the Texas Piney Woods. Lynn Marie had less than five bites on her entire body, but I'm not bitter. Asha had as many as I did, though they didn't show much under her dark brown skin. She called us the "Oowie twins." How could I complain about that? After all, we hadn't come for a vacation, but to minister to the WMF Asia team by providing a fun and meaningful time for their children while the adults had their meetings. Those memories will be shared in the next chronicle.
Love, "Dotty"
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