Day 51
Chennai, India
Kelly and I woke up early one last time; it was the last day in India. :( We wanted to be off the boat early and back on the boat early to avoid the lines. We also decided to wear our saris The staff loved it at breakfast. They served us like queens, asking if we wanted more juice, coffee, cereal, anything. It was wonderful.
As soon as we got off the boat it was a different story. The Indians just stared at us as we walked to the gate. That is not the reaction we had anticipated.
We grabbed a rickshaw and told him to take us to Pondi Bazaar. Surprisingly, he did. Not surprisingly, he took us to his friend's shop. They were really nice though. They opened up the shop early just for us. They helped us try on several different things before we found the perfect ones. Unfortunately, as we were leaving the monsoon rain started. It was pouring. The shopkeeper was so shocked that we didn't have umbrellas, and he offered to let us borrow his. We knew that our rickshaw driver would be waiting outside his shop, so we took the umbrella.
Most of the shops and kiosks were still setting up as we walked down the street. We had to plan where we were going to cross because the streets easily turned into rivers. We only got about a block before we decided that this really wasn't where we wanted to be: out in the rain, in a sari, with no shops open. So we walked back to return the umbrella and get in the rickshaw.
We asked him to take us to Spencer's mall, but he insisted on taking us to a different shop on the way. It turned out well because Kelly was able to get scarves for all her friends. Since we had accomplished that, there was no need to go to Spencer's, which left more time for us to eat lunch at the Taj and get henna tattoos.
The driver took us to the Taj hotel and waited while we ate a scrumptious lunch. This time we remembered dessert. Each of us walked away from the buffet tables with at least four desserts. They had cheese cake, chocolate crème brulee, apple tarts, raspberry cream puffs and four different flavors of ice cream with several toppings. Well, there was more than that, but these are the things we picked up. I discovered that grape and chocolate ice cream go very well together. Kelly found out how good honey tastes on ice cream.
We paid our bill and headed outside to go get henna tattoos Our driver thought it was hilarious that we wanted them now, since we would go back to Pondi Bazaar to get them. There was so much traffic to get there. It was incredible. We had to turn around and take detours two or three times.
By the time we got there I regretted not using the bathroom at the Taj. Our henna artists did not have a bathroom. They sat on stools in a park. I had to go across the street to find a public bathroom. Toilets in India are much different than in most other parts of the world. They are Turkish style. That means that they are simply a hole in the ground that you squat over. Now, I have no problem popping a squat, just ask Kalen. They did have one western-style toilet, but hovering over those things is a hard enough task as it is. And did I mention that I was in a sari?
A sari is a long, long piece of fabric that you wrap around yourself several times. You are supposed to wear a special skirt/petticoat underneath, but I didn't have that. I was wearing shorts. A skirt would have made the task much easier because I could have just lifted everything up and been fine. As it was, I had to untuck all the fabric and pull my pants down without letting anything touch the nasty ground.
I think girls have to deal with so many more problems than guys do.
Anyway, I got through it. My sari did not look as good, perhaps, but I was only getting a henna tattoo. I crossed the street, weaving through the cars, back over to where Kelly and the tattoo artists were sitting. Hers was already looking amazing. I haggled over a price, and started mine too.
As I was sitting down, a girl was leaving. Kelly told me she was from California, here for her sister's wedding. The girl had told Kelly how lucky her sister was because she was having a love-marriage. She had been dating this guy and they fell in love. Normally, parents won't let couples get married unless it is arranged, but her parents had agreed. I can't imagine living that way. Even with all the advancements India has made in women's rights, they still arrange marriages. I wonder if the daughter from California will be able to marry whomever she chooses.
We congratulated the bride and the sister, and they left. Several other women came by while we were getting our tattoos. They always commented, saying how beautiful the tattoo was. Several of the women asked me where I got my sari. Apparently I made a good choice. But what can I say, I know what looks good.
Now we faced the hard part: getting home with our purchases without touching the henna covering our hands. We were smart enough to only have one hand done, but we would still have to get out all of our customs forms and go through security. Our driver was very helpful and carried our bags back to the rickshaw.
Traffic on the way to the ship was just as horrendous. Worse actually. There was a political demonstration going on on the main street that led to the ship. We had to take more detours. While we were stopped in one place, a guy walked over the rickshaw and shook my hand. When he walked back over to his friends they all clapped him on the back and congratulated him. Further evidence of my celeb status.
One of our detours took us through what our driver called “the tsunami people.” It was a slum where people displaced by the tsunami were still living. I had gone to a lecture where they told us we probably wouldn't see any evidence of the tsunami. And here, three years later, was an entire neighborhood of people who had lost their homes. I was shocked that they still didn't have a home built. Relief seemed to come so fast in Malaysia. It didn't seem to bring them down, however. They were having a good time for the demonstration. People smiled at us and children were playing on a mini ferris wheel.
We finally made it back to the gate where there was just one more small problem. The rickshaw driver wanted us to pay 1000 rupees each. We didn't have that much. We thought he had said 100 each earlier in the day. The misunderstanding was that it would be 100 rupees each for every place he took us. Well, we had spent all our money. We explained to him that we hadn't anticipated it being that much, but he was still pretty upset. We gave him all of the money we had left, which amounted to about 1000 rupees. I told him to give us his address, which he had said he would to earlier, and we would send him the money. I gave him a piece of paper and my giraffe pen from South Africa to write it down.
He then drove us up to the customs office. As we got out, He asked if he could have the giraffe pen. I gave it to him, and we continued to apologize and assure him that we would send him the money. But he told us not to worry about the money. Just write a letter.
Chennai, India
Kelly and I woke up early one last time; it was the last day in India. :( We wanted to be off the boat early and back on the boat early to avoid the lines. We also decided to wear our saris The staff loved it at breakfast. They served us like queens, asking if we wanted more juice, coffee, cereal, anything. It was wonderful.
As soon as we got off the boat it was a different story. The Indians just stared at us as we walked to the gate. That is not the reaction we had anticipated.
We grabbed a rickshaw and told him to take us to Pondi Bazaar. Surprisingly, he did. Not surprisingly, he took us to his friend's shop. They were really nice though. They opened up the shop early just for us. They helped us try on several different things before we found the perfect ones. Unfortunately, as we were leaving the monsoon rain started. It was pouring. The shopkeeper was so shocked that we didn't have umbrellas, and he offered to let us borrow his. We knew that our rickshaw driver would be waiting outside his shop, so we took the umbrella.
Most of the shops and kiosks were still setting up as we walked down the street. We had to plan where we were going to cross because the streets easily turned into rivers. We only got about a block before we decided that this really wasn't where we wanted to be: out in the rain, in a sari, with no shops open. So we walked back to return the umbrella and get in the rickshaw.
We asked him to take us to Spencer's mall, but he insisted on taking us to a different shop on the way. It turned out well because Kelly was able to get scarves for all her friends. Since we had accomplished that, there was no need to go to Spencer's, which left more time for us to eat lunch at the Taj and get henna tattoos.
The driver took us to the Taj hotel and waited while we ate a scrumptious lunch. This time we remembered dessert. Each of us walked away from the buffet tables with at least four desserts. They had cheese cake, chocolate crème brulee, apple tarts, raspberry cream puffs and four different flavors of ice cream with several toppings. Well, there was more than that, but these are the things we picked up. I discovered that grape and chocolate ice cream go very well together. Kelly found out how good honey tastes on ice cream.
We paid our bill and headed outside to go get henna tattoos Our driver thought it was hilarious that we wanted them now, since we would go back to Pondi Bazaar to get them. There was so much traffic to get there. It was incredible. We had to turn around and take detours two or three times.
By the time we got there I regretted not using the bathroom at the Taj. Our henna artists did not have a bathroom. They sat on stools in a park. I had to go across the street to find a public bathroom. Toilets in India are much different than in most other parts of the world. They are Turkish style. That means that they are simply a hole in the ground that you squat over. Now, I have no problem popping a squat, just ask Kalen. They did have one western-style toilet, but hovering over those things is a hard enough task as it is. And did I mention that I was in a sari?
A sari is a long, long piece of fabric that you wrap around yourself several times. You are supposed to wear a special skirt/petticoat underneath, but I didn't have that. I was wearing shorts. A skirt would have made the task much easier because I could have just lifted everything up and been fine. As it was, I had to untuck all the fabric and pull my pants down without letting anything touch the nasty ground.
I think girls have to deal with so many more problems than guys do.
Anyway, I got through it. My sari did not look as good, perhaps, but I was only getting a henna tattoo. I crossed the street, weaving through the cars, back over to where Kelly and the tattoo artists were sitting. Hers was already looking amazing. I haggled over a price, and started mine too.
As I was sitting down, a girl was leaving. Kelly told me she was from California, here for her sister's wedding. The girl had told Kelly how lucky her sister was because she was having a love-marriage. She had been dating this guy and they fell in love. Normally, parents won't let couples get married unless it is arranged, but her parents had agreed. I can't imagine living that way. Even with all the advancements India has made in women's rights, they still arrange marriages. I wonder if the daughter from California will be able to marry whomever she chooses.We congratulated the bride and the sister, and they left. Several other women came by while we were getting our tattoos. They always commented, saying how beautiful the tattoo was. Several of the women asked me where I got my sari. Apparently I made a good choice. But what can I say, I know what looks good.
Now we faced the hard part: getting home with our purchases without touching the henna covering our hands. We were smart enough to only have one hand done, but we would still have to get out all of our customs forms and go through security. Our driver was very helpful and carried our bags back to the rickshaw.
Traffic on the way to the ship was just as horrendous. Worse actually. There was a political demonstration going on on the main street that led to the ship. We had to take more detours. While we were stopped in one place, a guy walked over the rickshaw and shook my hand. When he walked back over to his friends they all clapped him on the back and congratulated him. Further evidence of my celeb status.One of our detours took us through what our driver called “the tsunami people.” It was a slum where people displaced by the tsunami were still living. I had gone to a lecture where they told us we probably wouldn't see any evidence of the tsunami. And here, three years later, was an entire neighborhood of people who had lost their homes. I was shocked that they still didn't have a home built. Relief seemed to come so fast in Malaysia. It didn't seem to bring them down, however. They were having a good time for the demonstration. People smiled at us and children were playing on a mini ferris wheel.
We finally made it back to the gate where there was just one more small problem. The rickshaw driver wanted us to pay 1000 rupees each. We didn't have that much. We thought he had said 100 each earlier in the day. The misunderstanding was that it would be 100 rupees each for every place he took us. Well, we had spent all our money. We explained to him that we hadn't anticipated it being that much, but he was still pretty upset. We gave him all of the money we had left, which amounted to about 1000 rupees. I told him to give us his address, which he had said he would to earlier, and we would send him the money. I gave him a piece of paper and my giraffe pen from South Africa to write it down.
He then drove us up to the customs office. As we got out, He asked if he could have the giraffe pen. I gave it to him, and we continued to apologize and assure him that we would send him the money. But he told us not to worry about the money. Just write a letter.
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