Tag Archives: Bangalore

India Reality

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Britt and I have both witnessed and observed such a wide variety of culture in India that, sometimes, the heart gets dizzy and outweighs the brain.  This is our last day in Chennai, and we are headed for London.  Maggie, one of my sick, I mean six sisters, would be loving to see the Royal Wedding. I won’t. She will also appreciate, I think, and as a practicing and well respected nurse, the difference between witnessing and observing.

Witnessing and observing are wildly different concepts.  We witness children playing in dirt and feel sorry for them.  We observe the look beyond their eyes and know they are, for some unfathomable reason, happy.

Sadly,here, the adult males don’t take too handsomely to white intruders.   During this stay, I guess I always had children to protect me.  This morning, I was saying my last goodbyes, or high fives to my cricket friends, when they started yelling, “go go go!”  I had my wallet in my pocket and was taking one last picture of my friends when several men approached me with disdain in their eyes.  Fortunately, I am much better at running than cricket.

You witness people participating in sports, their work, everyday life, but you observe their behavior while looking into their eyes.  It’s the first time I’ve been scared in India.  Unfortunately, the adult males, even with smiles and howdy doo’s on their faces don’t care for the white man.  I observed it from the very beginning, and tried to sway their attitude, but it’s hard to do that to a billion people.

Many of the adult males didn’t appreciate my laughter and smiles.  I could understand that and even reserved it when walking the streets.  However, I couldn’t contain it when playing with those children.

All they could do was witness me.  If they looked beyond my eyes, they would stop and say, “okay, this is a mere idiot just having fun in a country he knows nothing about.  Let’s not steal from him or kill him.”

I’m not dead, just still learning,

Ben

Disconnected in India

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Gannon’s Blog, 2 thousand and something:

Decided to take a walk and get water and a sandwich.

Elevator was out of commission.

Chose to take the fire exit.

Alarm went off….not kidding.

Ran away from security who didn’t recognize me.

Happy ending:  Found water

This just gets better each day.

How are you?

(The power goes off 8 or 9 times a day here in India, therefore I am commonly disconnected from any network system . For those of you who are following this site, I am doing my best to keep it updated, but this hotel restricts me from certain days of usage)

Still alive,

Ben and Britt

Indiana Prose

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My nephew, Pat, remarked upon my India blog imagining me as Indiana Jones.  Interestingly, it’s a keen observation, aside from a few details.  Instead of wearing a fedora, I adorn myself with an Adidas cap.  Rather than utilizing boots, I run from cars and motorcycles with cheap fabric tennis shoes.  I don’t have a whip, just a leather belt to keep my pants up, and if necessary, use it to fend off the monkeys which smile at me just prior to attacking.

Doctor Jones and I do have one thing in common.  We are both heroes.  Indiana discovered the Ark of the Covenant, Crystal Skulls,  sacred stones, Christ’s Chalice and Jewish Directors.  Although not accomplishing any of those tasks, my heroic capacity supersedes Indiana on one level.  I never witnessed him, NOT ONCE, cross a street in India.  If you recall the 80’s video game Frogger, my wife and I are living it on an hourly basis.  Dodging cars, rickshaws, buses, motor bikes and Hare Krishnas while holding my wife’s hand detonates everything Indiana Jones did for fictional society.

Keep us in your prayers.

Benmeat Josniffafish Gannonjob (That’s my new Indian name)

India part 3…I think

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Without trying to be funny, Britt and I are witnessing the evolution of man, woman, and culture here in India.  This country is simply Harlem without the vim and vigor.  They just toss in a few Temples and Palaces here and there like salt and pepper and expect you to say “ahhh”.

On the way to the Iskon Temple this morning, I stopped by a terrifying amusement park.  It is called, “Taxi Drivers, Motorcycles, Pedestrians and You can’t Take a Picture Land”.  Fortunately, no one carries guns in Bangalore, or I would have a cap popped in my ass like the ending of Butch and Sundance or the Godfather.

While attempting to catch a picture for anyone who cares, whistles would blare, Temples would shake, and Hare Krishna would slap me across the face.  It was a lot like growing up with 12 older siblings.

The Temple was glorious.  Prior to witnessing the Temple without my shoes, which my cab driver forced me to leave in the car, the one hour of chanting as the only white person being stared at in this line was a bit unnerving.  The line to enter the Temple was just like waiting for an extremely depressing Disneyland ride.  It would be called, “Bare Feet and the Wild Walk.” Yet, the five minutes of observing the Temple and almost being arrested for taking a picture within was well worth it.

Being accused of demoralizing India from some of my friends and enemies, I wish to say a few words.  The people here are great; I respect their culture, some of their attitudes, and most of their driving skills. Further respect should be paid to the magnificent country of India. If I had it, I’d dispose of a Slumdog Billion dollars not to have to drive a car in this beautiful nation.  I would have perished the first day if I had done so.

Ben

India Part 2 : Electric Boogaloo

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The greatest thing about being in India is not being able to watch the Seattle Mariners lose.  The second item I love about India is that they find it pretentious when Americans tip them.  Therefore, if you witnessed my previous blog, I am the most pretentious human staying in India.

My wife, Britt, and I strolled about the streets last night tripping amongst the rubble.  We enjoyed ourselves thoroughly for several reasons.  Each person seems to be extremely nice, the weather is far more attractive than Seattle, and we were not hit by a car or motorcycle.  Far more dangerous is yours truly.  I must learn, much like driving on the left side of the road, that it is appropriate and courteous to walk on the left side of anything.  I’ve bumped into more Indians than Custer.

I have no idea what time it is or what day it is.  Most of the people who read my drivel are probably asleep.  I’m now off to find some monkeys even though I’ve been told they are wonderfully dangerous.  If I don’t leave an additional India blog, you may assume I am in a hospital in Hong Kong as they do not have terrific health care here.

Ben

India Part I: City of Boiled Beans

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Greetings and palpitations from Bangalore, India. This literally means “city of boiled beans”.  I am not joking about that one.  After 23 hours on a plane, (I had the Jimmy Leg for at least 20 of those hours), Britt and I are in our 5 star hotel which is the equivalent to a Fife Econo Lodge. Perhaps the range has elevated to 20 stars in this fifth world country.

We’ve been here 14 hours and I already despise curry.  My shoes, socks, shirt, pants, pillow, and Britt’s hair are all infested with the smell of curry.  I’d rather be in Russia where people don’t smile.  It honestly reminds me of the Bronx Ghetto area, with the exception that people who steal from you maintain a bright smile on their faces.  I was told not to wear my wedding ring because I may get my finger chopped off.  If any of you are willing to visit during this two week stay, I would be wildly grateful.

Honestly, I feel very sorry for these people.  I have been tipping 100 Rupees to each employee in the hotel (that means two dollars to you and me).

I hope all of you are well and I can eat a cow in two weeks with one of you.

Ben

P.S.  They claim English to be their second language.  I don’t understand one word.