ABDF

Sunday, July 20, 2008

Hi everybody!

Well, I have to admit that this past week has been one of little action, as far as projects are concerned. Current projects are in place and being worked on, and little new has come up on the horizon. That’s OK, as most of the ABDFs’ current funds are now committed one way or another. Until we get in some more money, I can’t commit to anything major. Plus with projects sometimes you just have to let things ferment a little.

Nor has anything very interesting been happening in town or the District. All is placid for the moment. Perhaps it’s the heat; we’re smack-dab in the height of the hot season, and it can be downright enervating at times. Even in the relative cool of early morning it is seldom below 87 degrees. Or at least that’s the coolest I’ve seen my thermometer-thingy go lately.

When I got here in late February, it hovered around 80-82 where I keep the thermometer-thingy, which is inside my bedroom. It occasionally got down to 79 degrees at night. Everyone kept commenting on how nice a cool it was. Made me laugh, having just left the cold California winter, which is nothing compared to winter elsewhere. To me it felt quite warm, and I would sweat at night while I slept. I have described trying to sleep here in an earlier dispatch.

Now, however, I look fondly back at those 82 degree highs, and long for this October when things “cool” down again. After it got really hot, there were one or two rare nights when we had the cooler weather, and I was very surprised; sleep came easily and my bed sheet and pillow remained dry all night long. Back home, if it was more than, say 78 in the room, I was sleepless at night. Now if it’s 85 I can do it. How the body adapts! I look forward to later this year, when I can loftily dismiss the weather, saying “Oh it’s so nice and cool today.”

Monday, July 21, 2008 (the next day)

It’s evening now. It’s been overcast all day but ooo-wee! so hot and the air so close. As I sit typing, I can see flashes of lightening in the sky. No rain I’m sure, but the sky seems to be letting off some of the excess energy that’s been building, the clouds being trapped between the heat of the sun above and the heat from the ground below.

I spent much of the day with “the kids” at Synergy. First we had class, and then I helped them with some emails. After we had a small birthday lunch for a friend. The lunch was, of course, rice and curry.

I recently came across a shop in Kattankudy that sells couscous. Hurrah! A welcome break from rice and pasta. No one here knows what it is; I suspect that the shopkeeper has it for Muslim customers who have worked in the Middle East and North Africa. Anyway, I eat it a lot back home, and there is so much you can with it. So I’m very happy. And perhaps the next time I eat lunch with the Synergy kids, I will make couscous and have them try it.

I also indulged in one of my favorite Batti activities: I got a shave.

In the West, it used to be that men went to the barber and got a straight razor shave, complete with hot towels and all that. I’m sure my older readers will remember this. Nowadays it is a very expensive luxury. Once Melissa and I found a place where they will do it the old-fashioned way, and they wanted to charge $65!

Well here in Batti you get the same thing for 80 rupees or about 75 cents. Well almost the same thing; they don’t have the hot water for the towels. Instead you get patted down with a washcloth soaked in scalding hot water kept in a thermos. But everything else is the same.

I get shaved at a local landmark, the Imperial Saloon, right on Trinco Road, in the middle of things. To be honest, I think they meant Salon, but well, you see all sorts of spelling mistakes on signage here. So it is now Saloon. The structure is vaguely Taj Mahal-esque. When you walk in the place is all bright colors, colored lights, chintzy bric-a-brac, loud Tamil movie music, plastic flowers, and metallic garlands similar to the kinds we put on Christmas trees. In other words: ghetto fabulous. It’s glorious in its tackiness.

I have one guy, named Illojen, who I always go to. He’s only in his twenties, but has shaved a million faces. He’s very good; never a nick or cut or anything. I finally got him to stop calling me Sir, as it makes me uncomfortable, and now he greets me with “Hi Ben.” The job he does is amazing; my face feels like baby skin. I always give him an excessive (by local standards) tip. Normally the shave is 80 rupees, and the scalp massage another 50. I give him 300 for the experience. Yep, $3 for 20 minutes or so of total bliss. He’s poor, so I figure that not only will he take good care of me, but it helps him out without it being a handout.

First he squirts water on my face, and wipes it with a clean tissue. Then he applies the shaving cream with a brush. He brushes vigorously, which I guess makes all the facial hair stand straight. Then he gives me a rough shave, always using a fresh razor. He then reapplies the cream, and does a detailed close shave. After this he uses his fingers to spread a little water above and behind my ears and the nape of my neck. The razor is used to on these areas, giving even uncut hair a clean look.

Illojen then returns his attention back to my face. He wipes my whole face down with the boiling hot washcloth I mentioned above. The he applies a stinging aftershave, but before it can really bite he uses his thumbs and forefingers to massage the area. After this comes a series of creams and unguents, which one at a time are massaged over my whole face, including at one point, my eyelids. The eyelid massage can be an unsettling experience at first, but after a couple of times you get used to it. Assuming my face isn’t already bright red from sunburn, it is made so by all the massaging. I think that both staff and patrons get a kick out of me turning so very red.

If I get a haircut (another 80 rupees; Illojen does what I ask and is pretty good), it happens at this point.

Then comes the scalp massage. Illojen pours a lot of herbal tomic onto my head, more than you would imagine does the job. As he begins to rub the oil in, he blows into it, producing a very cold, tingling sensation. He has very strong hands and years of experience, so the massage is exquisite. After multiple bouts of oil and massage, I’m pretty blissed-out; if I were a cat I would be purring loudly. The oils are absorbed by the hair and scalp, leaving everything soft and supple.

Lastly, as part of the shave, not the head massage, there is a brief massaging of the shoulders and upper arms. Some of the barbers will even suddenly crack your neck once or twice; I find the experience alarming, and made it clear I don’t want a readjustment.

After all this, I pay up, pour myself out of the chair, and slink outside to go to my next errand. On occasion I go right home and take a nap.

I have to admit to you right here and now: I’m an addict. I’ve become a 3 dollar shave junkie. I try to control myself and only go twice a week, but it’s to the point where as soon as the first dab of having cream is put on my face and I smell that smell, all the tension drains out of my body. I could so easily go every day. I’d really like to.

I first went to Imperial, and submitted myself to Illojen’s expertise, during the tsunami times and ever since then a safety razor over the bathroom sink has seemed a mockery. It’s one of the things I most look forward to when I’m not here, and it’s one of the very first things I do when I get here.

I know all this sounds silly, but it really is something you only understand if you experience it; the smell of the oils and unguents, the loud Tamil movie music, the scritch-scratch feel of the blade, the bright colors and lights, the cool of the hair oil, all of it combines to produce a unique experience.

Tuesday, July 22, 2008 (next day)

It was another hot day today. It’s evening again and there are large clouds in the sky and strong breezes. This sometimes means rain, which would bring relief from the heat and humidity. I hope we manage to get a nice heavy downpour.

Today I had to take my motorcycle to the mechanic. The roads here are in such bad condition that the connection for my horn came loose. This made driving dangerous, as there really are no traffic rules, except that you drive on the left (opposite of the States) and what I call the Rule of the Horn.

Without the horn, traffic would slip from controlled chaos into complete chaos. If you are on the road and you hear a horn behind you, you drift to the left (if you can) and let the guy pass you. You honk as you approach every intersection, to let other people know you’re coming through. You honk at every blind or even vaguely-blind curve and turn, to let oncoming traffic know you’re coming. You even honk outside of driveways, just in case someone is pulling out. You honk at pedestrians trying to cross the street, you honk when you want to pass someone. Driving here requires a finger on the horn’s button at all times. This is why I needed to get my horn re-connected.

As it was, it took the guy about 2 minutes and cost 50 rupees, which is slightly less than 50 cents. What a deal!

I’ve gotten to a comfort level with the bike where I enjoy riding it. Sharp turns are sometimes still tricky, and I have yet to go through Kattankudy, which has the most crowded streets around, but my confidence is now high, but not to the point of foolhardiness. I’ve even had people riding with me, and it’s almost as easy to carry two as it is just me.

I’ve even conquered Kallady Bridge. Kallady Bridge is the bridge between Batti and its southern environs. The main road crosses the big lagoon on it, providing the only real north/south artery for the District. Actually I’m surprised that all through the conflict the LTTE never tried to destroy it; if that were to happen, all transport up and down the coast would be halted.

At any rate, the bridge itself is only slightly wider than one of our highway lanes, and is used by traffic coming from both directions. You can only imagine the chaos that sometimes ensues. The police on either end stop large vehicle traffic to allow flow from the opposite direction. They do this alternately. But bicycle, motorcycle, and tuk-tuk traffic flows unimpeded both ways. Everyone tries to squeeze past and around everyone else, including whatever big trucks or buses happen to be crossing. Often the gap between your leg and an oncoming bus is less than a foot; it can be harrowing unless you’re used to it, or have nerves of steel, or best of all, both. Surprisingly, I’ve never seen an accident on the bridge. I suspect that everyone is being reckless, yes, but also super defensive in their driving at the same time.

So you can imagine my trepidation the first time I was about to cross the bridge. But it turned out not to be as scary as I had assumed it would be. I realized that to be truly successful if, for example, you’re trying to squeeze between a slow cyclist on your left and an oncoming truck on you’re right, you can’t concentrate on either of them. You have to focus on the gap between, honk your horn, and aim your attention there. If you look at either obstacle, cyclist or truck, that’s when you begin to waver and loose control. “Mind the gap!” as a friend once said to me, although in a different context. Mind the gap indeed.

Well, as I’ve said, not much has been happening lately. So I suppose I should stop rambling and get this dispatch out.

xoxoxoxoxoxo

B.