January 23, 2004
Rather than slowly easing my stomach into South Indian
faire, I dove straight into a big banana leaf of Masala Vada curry complete
with plain rice. It was 9:00 p.m. on my
first full day in the former British enclave of Chennai (Madras) and, frankly, I was pooped. Bursting like large sausages in my old Teva
sandals, my swollen blistered feet selected the first ‘veg’ restaurant outside
my basic (but clean) hotel. Ganesh and I
arrived in the Mylapore district of Chennai at 1:00 a.m. the same day via San Francisco, Frankfurt
and a bulbous black & white Mercedes taxi from yesteryear. Aside from the
momentary panic occurring every time my bike is not the first thing on the
baggage conveyor belt, the journey went without so much as a hiccup or even a
burp.
A monsoon of disconnected thoughts entertained me on the 16
km dusty drive to the New Woodlands Hotel:
India is as stimulating as it was 10 years ago; Should I be concerned
with the signs requesting, ‘Please wear
helmet while driving?;’ The blood sugar level of my taxi driver is clearly plummeting;
What is that constant screeching noise? Is that oncoming bus going to kill
us? Should I have trained more for this
ride?; How the hell am I going to find my way out this urban sprawl?; Where and
when will I hook-up with Marcus, my cycling mate?
As excited as my mind was over the impending journey and
drive into town, I felt an intense calm sweep over me, as if I were arriving
home. Right about then, I was jolted out
of my incense-infused haze straight into room 1436.
Lost in time by hours if not days, I awoke a few hours later
to the not-so-faint strum of the Sitar. Although Ganesh was assembled and ready
to ride by dawn, I opted to walk, making my way through the maze of cellular
service plans offered on TTK Road
and High Triplicane. As numerous and
complicated as any PPO plan back home, I took the recommendation of a friendly
Indian gentleman and purchased the semi-comprehensive pre-paid plan complete
with SIMS, SMS, MMS, STD, ISD and other acronyms I hope I never catch. One interesting side note to anyone intending
to purchase an Indian plan, you will need a passport size photo, your Visa and
first born.
Outside of the technology world, the remainder of my unguided, and
largely aimless, walking tour of downtown was spent developing a healthy
appetite inside ‘old’ India
and the beauty that still remains. Now,
I know most people would not classify the stench, filthy streets and abject
poverty as beautiful by anyone’s embellished definition of the word; but I’m an
anomaly. What I ‘see’ is another world
-- marked by a rich culture, vibrant saris, proud people and their friendly
smiles. Besides that, the spicy Masala Vada
curry is the best in the world!
Nighty-night. Tomorrow, I ride
solo to meet Marcus in Mamallapuram.
I hope this blog finds family, friends and donors happy and well. During this writing, we received another generous donation to CAF bringing us to $9,040, just shy of $10,000! Thank you all for your help!
PS Sorry for the funky font
