Just a hour or so outside of Bangalore, near the waters of the Cauvery River, the sprawl and dust and noise of Bangalore’s traffic subsides and a different, older India emerges. My eyes and camera soak in the welcome green hues, and I briefly wonder about this back-breaking work — whether done in antebellum South Carolina or 21st century India –  that I know so little about. While the information content is not high, this entry in Wikipedia contains an aerial photo of rice paddies in Karnataka state (where I am): rice paddy. There were just four students, myself and three Indian families who stopped here on our way to Mysore, and we walked along the mud retainers between each section of paddy, and the Kannada speakers spoke a bit with the planters.

Arielle looking at a positive TB stain with microbiologist during a tour of John Hopkin’s Sagar Apollo Private Hospital.

This is Bangalore…

And this is Bangalore…

These are two sides of the exact same street.  I am not kidding.  I did not move.  I only photographed left, then right.

sunset from stone hill, much like Atlanta’s stone mountain (swapping the confederate generals carving for a hindu temple, on the left.)

a tree that reminded me of a fractal.

does this look artsy or poor-quality?  you decide!

In the middle of the noise and haze of hectic bangalore is a 300acre oasis of calm and beauty called the Lalbagh Botanical Gardens. For seven rupees, you can walk the gardens, and climb atop a 350 year old silk cottonwood tree that has become my favorite tree in the entire world.

After our break because of Monday’s “bundh,” today’s busy schedule was somethat tiring for me. We split into two groups to visit 2 different charitable hospitals. These visits will be contrasted with visits to state-run hospitals and private specialty hospitals later in the program. The charitable hopsital I visited was called Sri Sathya Sai Institute of Higher Medicines. It is was built in 1999 by the donations of followers of Sai Baba, and the hospital was absolutely stunning. It is a hospital for neuroscience and surgery and cardiology and surgery. The Institute looks more like a temple palace or an impressive federal building than a charitable hospital. There are perfectly manicured lawns, the perimeter bordered by a fence, and on one side many hopeful waiting patients look inward. No patient at this hospital pays anything, but patients are served on a first come, first served basis, with a few exceptions made for children and young mothers. Some people will wait a few weeks or months for an appointment (they can return home, then come back on appointment day), and the waiting list for surgery is up to a year. But, no one who needs the type of care they provide (cardiology and neuroscience) is turned away, and the doctors come from across India, UK and a few from the US to work in a well-functioning charitable hopsital. Nurses, however are harder to keep on staff, a problem acutely felt in clinics and hospitals across India. This is because of the enormous pay difference between working in India and abroad. The United States and parts of Europe currently have nursing shortages, and so many trained Indian nurses can emigrate to the US or Europe and earn 10 times as more.

Our visit to Sri Sathya Sai was interesting, but it was harder to get any information beyond the official “hospital tour guide approved” answers. Our tour guide was also a follower of Sai Baba, and Sai Baba’s photos were everywhere, waiting rooms, offices, operating rooms. The photos are depicted him in his trademark black afro and orange robes, but a different pose in nearly every picture.
I will post a photo of this Temple of Medicine tomorrow…adi

Hi Everyone! I am waving to you with my Mehindi-decorated hand. On Saturday I went “visiting” to a few different homes, and was lucky enough to join a party of some female IHP students and their homestay ’sisters’ and ‘mothers’ who hired a Mehindi artist to come to their living room. One of the young women was going to her school’s “Prom” (she was 13, though, so not like Prom in the US), and it was going to be her first time wearing a sari! She was having henna tattooed on her hands and feet, and so we all joined in the fun! My palm is decorated in the “India” style, whild the back of my hand and wrist are decorated in the Arabic style, much like the Henna tattoo I got on my arms and feet from my Muslim homestay sisters in Zanzibar to celebrate Eid. The artist here was so cute…she would turn our hands over and over, saying “India…Arabia!” and her eyes would light up at the possibility that we could hold two worlds in one hand.

I am waving “Hi” because I would like to thank everyone for leaving messages on my site! It is very delightful to check and read a quick line from someone…please keep it up! Much love to everyone…adi

Strings of flowers are sewn together by India’s lower classes and castes and sold in beautiful strands, which are used to decorate alters, autorickshaws, temples, women’s hair, doorways…i see them everywhere! This is one market where you can buy the flowers in bulk for stringing or in prepared strands.  There are roses in every color, marigolds, jasmine, and many flowers I am too ignorant to recognize.

Yesterday I went to a festival and feast at the home of one the families hosting an IHP student. The festival was in honor of a god who visited the home/neighborhood at this time every year. I was told this particular goddess was celebrated because among other powers she could prevent or eradicate (I was unsure) certain diseases, such as measles. In the photo above you can see a handful of guests enjoying their lunch feast. We are eating under a beautiful colorful tent set up on the roof patio of this home. There were also these colorful tents in front of the house and along the road. I heard they were expecting 200 guests, but I have no idea if that is accurate. These long tables in the photo are typical of tables rented for weddings and feasts. They are just wide enough to accomodate a disposable (but completely biodegradable!) plate made from dried leaves sewn together. I love these plates! If they were widely available, I would be known as the Leaf Plate Hostess!

Before the feast I went with Leo and his family to the temple (Leo was raised Catholic, which is much more predominant in Southern India than Northern India), which was around the corner. At the temple offerings were being made to the God, such as coconuts, flowers, jaggery (a type of sugar/sweet treat) and a chicken sacrificed on-site. There was also a gaggle of children who crowded around me, smiling and all asking “What is your name?!” One girl about 15 years old spoke English and she was excited to be my temporary cultural guide to the temple, although some of our Q and A was typical of my explorations here:
me: and what is this? [pointing to what is clearly an offering.]
girl: it is an offering.
me: yes, I see, but what is it made of?
girl: it is made for God.
me: okay. why is there a hole in the center?
nearby adult: this is a hole.
me: but what is it for?
adult: the hole? oh, it is cultural. [adds side-to-side head bob, neither ‘yes’ or ‘no’.]

Back at the house there was such a warm, loving and lively atmosphere. I ate delicious food, including coconut chapatis, which I had not tasted yet, but were so lightly sweet, I could have eaten 100! Then I played with some children, and even held a beautiful 6 month olf baby while her mother and father feasted. They felt totally comfortable plopping her into my arms, having her passed around. Needless to say, between delicious food and indulging in ‘baby-worship’ I had a delightful day.

I get this text message at least once a day…sometimes twice.