Tea picking in Kerala

Tea is picked here in a way that I had not seen before. In Darjeeling, for instance, where they grow and process a finer brand of tea, all the picking is done by hand—just the first three leaves. Here in Kerala they use a tool not unlike a small two handled hedge trimmer with an attachment to collect the leaves.

Naturally, there are more stems and larger tough leaves picked and thrown into the mix than if picked by hand. But this is all sifted out later at the factory. They pick a lot more volume this way, but the quality of the tea suffers. Most of this tea is used to produce commercial grade powder for restaurants. Some is exported.

It's a beautiful sight to see acre upon acre of manicured tea bushes—dark green with the sun glinting off every leaf. It's very quiet around these parts except for the friendly chatter of the pickers.

Waiting for the day

This is the shoe shiner's buddy.

Life is never wasted with being in a hurry in India. It's a great thing.

"Peace. It does not mean to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble or hard work. It means to be in the midst of those things and still be calm in your heart." [Unknown Source]

Shoe shiner at the Y

This man has been shining shoes just outside the gate of the YMCA Hostel in Delhi for many years. Always in the same spot by the tree. Out of the sun and a bit sheltered from the weather. He always has a quick and ready smile. One or two friends usually hang out there with him in the early morning, bringing on the day with happy conversation.

He's in the same spot every morning. I doubt that he pays any license fees for being in that spot on the sidewalk. There must be some unwritten code that tells his shoe-shining buddies this is his claim.

Somebody's grandmother

Could this be the lop-sided-truck-unloader's grandmother? Maybe. She seems happy, so everything must have turned out alright at the truck depot.

Check out that sweet smile. God makes beautiful people doesn't he?

Lop-sided loads

On our way to Agra to see the Taj Mahal. A three hour drive on some of the best roads in India. It only took us five hours because of fog and various other not uncommon road conditions. (If you ever travel in India, you'll be happier and less stressed if you leave any concept of timeliness back at home.)

Along the way our hired car had a puncture, which was only discovered after weaving down the road (also not an uncommon experience) for a few miles looking for a tea shop. When this truck loaded with tires came along, we had things to do elsewhere. Definitely not lingering anywhere near the car! The load was roped onto the truck. Sort of.

I wonder who the lucky fellow was that had to untie the first rope? I wonder which side of the truck he was standing? I wonder if he's still unloading trucks? I wonder what kind of accident insurance he had? I wonder if his mama knows where he is?

Evening snacks in Delhi

One of the greatest things about India is the food. So much of it is awefully tempting. So much of it needs to be avoided by the average Western stomach. And it's always colorful.

Every few feet along the city sidewalk vendors with snack foods galore set out their wares. Roasted peanuts in the shell; roasted channa, lentils, or peas whose flavor is enhanced with a little squeezed lime juice; potato chips; puffed rice; even sweet snacks such as peanut brittle.

Early evening is the best time. Folks are on their way back home, or just out for a stroll. They'll stop for a few rupees worth of something to get them through til dinner.

It's a wonderful place to be.

How to climb an elephant in sock feet

Here are some things I learned about how to climb up onto a 51 year old elephant in sock feet. (That would be my sock feet, not the elephant's. I didn't think of bringing any socks for him. Besides, I didn't have room enough in my suitcase. Even for the socks.)

1. You first have to abandon all sense of pride or self-worth.
2. Although you're instructed to remove your shoes, keep your socks on. (We had just spotted a cobra not 100 yards away. Socks may help in case of attack. Depends how long you've been wearing them.)
3. If you have enough friends around, it makes the whole task of getting up there just a little bit easier. (You have to trust that they have no ulterior motives when they handle your body in unusual ways.)
4. To help you climb up, you're not allowed to use the rope that you see around the beast's neck. (I believe that rule was established on the spot, just for me, to provide more joy for my friends.)
5. The elephant is very intelligent because it understands (although it cannot speak) Malayalam. (That came as a real surprise to me. I've only seen an elephant respond to English commands, albeit a somewhat spicy variety at times. Not even I, as a semi intelligent human being, have the slightest understanding of Malayalam, nor can I conceive of anyone else understanding it. Further proof that I had to leave my ego with my shoes in the bush.)
6. The mahout will shout the appropriate commands to the elephant, telling it to lift its leg into such a position that allows you to imagine there might be a sort of stairway there. (It's actually hard to imagine, but that's what they told me. Don't take too long at this stage because there are now several tons of body mass suspended on just three legs instead of four, and if the beast happens to lose its balance, you know which ways it's going to fall!)
7. To help you climb this thing, first you have to hang onto its earlobe, then as you progress, the top of its ear. (I hurt for the poor beast as I thought of 190 pounds of pretty dead weight suspended on its ear. Earings would have helped with the footing.)
8. Elephants do not wear earings.
9. Once you're up past the top of the ear, there's nothing but two large smooth bumps on the top of its head to grab on to in order to pull yourself up the rest of the way. (And at this stage your friends can't reach you any more, so you're on your own.)
10. Once you're comfortably settled onto the elephant's shoulders you are now permitted to hang onto the rope. (That's a good feeling.)
11. There are no seat belts.
12. Do not wear tight pants. (Unless you want to have two half pairs going home. You're practically doing the splits up there.)
13. Hold on tight and try to remain loose. (Because with each step it takes, your new elevated seat on the beast's shoulders disappears beneath you one side at a time.)
14. It would make the whole process a lot easier if you weren't laughing so hard, so try to concentrate and keep a straight face. (Besides, I failed to notice the elephant laughing. Also a good feeling.)
15. Once you're up there, you feel like a king. (Despite the sock feet and laughter coming up from the commoners below.)
16. Once you dismount (that means slide down) the elephant, run fast. (You have a very large beast with a sore ear behind you.)

Something wrong with this wiring

I admit I don't know a lot about things electrical, but it seems to me there's something wrong with these power lines. Not an uncommon site, where the easiest and cheapest way to get power to your house is to tap off the main lines. A quick greasing of the palm keeps the nasty rule enforcers away.

Then there's the city

We came across this sight in the city of Vijayawada, Andhra Pradesh. It's not a very pretty city (that's a serious understatement) but it's where I was born so we spent a few days there. This boneyard laundry was situated across the street from the police station. The officers at the gate told us these were all vehicles from accidents with law suits still unsettled. I guess the legal system works slowly here. Meanwhile, it makes a good place for the local dhobi to hang his laundry to dry. Notice the "No Parking" sign painted on the front of the burned out bus.

More smiles in the village

I think it's the people that I enjoy the most when I come to India. Especially out in the rural areas. Friendly, hospitable, and always happy to see us. Their contentment with what we consider so little has much to teach us in the west.

Where did it go?

The time, I mean. I thought yesterday was the day after Christmas. But alas, it wasn't. And now I'm almost at the end of my visit to India. Okay, I'll try to add some pictures and a few comments in the next few days. Promise.

Here's a start: In a village near Green Valley in Karnataka state. Smiles abound when I showed this old man his picture in my digital camera.